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It’s funny how you can visit the same place several times and experience it so differently each time. Changes in the destination are probably inevitable, given the passage of time and its often cruel impact on whatever it touches. The difference in experience is more pronounced especially when you compare it from childhood to adulthood. As children everything appears as the biggest, the brightest, the most beautiful or the most terrifying; superlatives define everything. When you revisit the same places or experiences as adults you’re often surprised. That gigantic palace is actually quite small and ordinary, the ice-cream that tasted like frozen ecstasy is actually headache-inducing frozen sweetness and you wonder how the shabby looking scarecrow invoked such terror in you. I visited Ranikhet when I was five years old and I have some vivid memories: Of slopes so green that they made you ache and flowers with iridescent butterflies hovering over them. One of them fluttered onto my unsuspecting thumb, its feathery touch startling me into shrieks of juvenile terror! A musty smelling room at the Army Mess filled with stuffed beasts and mounted antlers that could shred you to pieces. My father making me pose for the camera, with my trembling hand inside the gaping mouth of a savage bear, while I continuously asked, “Does it bite, does it bite…?”
I looked forward to revisiting Ranikhet at the end of last year with a few of my friends. I actually didn’t expect much out of the trip except for a good time with fun people, away from the routine of work and the city. I knew Ranikhet was still untouched and pristine, but my experience at the hill stations I studied at and grew up in, however special in my memory, had been marred by the rapid commercialization that had taken place at so many. Besides, if you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. So I went with the expectation of a nice weekend in a different place and nothing more.
The train journey was routine enough, the getting off at Ramnagar before the crack of dawn bitterly cold and the hassling with pushy cabbies tiresome. I was sleepy, cold and wanted a bed instead of a bumpy cab. Setting out in my grouchy state I was sure I was going to remain in that frame of mind for the rest of the ride. Fortunately, something changed. I have a different set of vivid memories from this trip.
The drive up to Ranikhet took us through Corbett National Park and we didn’t see any exotic wildlife as expected, but a sambar grazing at the roadside attracted us enough to stop next to him. He looked up and walked over confidently, thrust his head in through the driver’s window and looked at us. He obviously enjoyed our cries of delight and posed willingly for the cameras, nibbling at the steering wheel and nudging the driver. Watching him thrust his fuzzy head into the car evoked memories of “Does it bite?” I wasn’t that same five-year old, but the delight was the same, if not more!
After leaving the friendly sambar behind, my mood was definitely better. The drive was scenic and as we wound through the mountains I started feeling more elated. We stopped at a dhaba for the ubiquitous chai and pakoras, warming our hands and rear ends at the fire. I glanced at the dhaba and noticed a banner decorating the back wall. It proudly advertised a nondescript brand of men’s underwear, bringing a smile to my face – commercialization! We continued our journey, graced by the imposing snow-capped mountains and the crisp clear air. Our arrival in Ranikhet was marked by the appearance of men dressed in army fatigues and messes and canteens dotting the landscape. We continued till the golf course, bronzed by the sharp mountain sun, with tall pine and eucalyptus trees swaying in the breeze. As we approached the Windsor Lodge, I could feel myself getting more excited! It was a compact property with comfortable wooded interiors, a lovely sitting area with fantastic views and warm red candles and gold spray painted pinecones decorating the entrance, in anticipation of Christmas in a few days. The festive touches increased my elation as Christmas always reminds me of childhood and all the excitement surrounding it.
After settling into our comfortable rooms we went down to lunch, our appetites considerably enhanced by the invigorating mountain air. Sated, we set off for a post lunch stroll through the golf course and pine tree dotted slopes. It was pleasant and the sun bathed everything in a rich golden-brown hue like treacle, good enough to eat! After numerous photographs of the mountains, the trees and all of us in inane poses we headed back. We met Bumpy, the shaggy black dog, along the way, as he marked his territory at every second step, and a bird that I mentally termed as the ‘Elvis birdy’ because of its cocky puff!
We returned to the guesthouse for a strange combination of coffee and popcorn and a deliciously pink and gold sunset, viewed from the roof. As the air became colder, we piled on a few more layers, played a curiously addictive puzzle game while having a drink and then decided to head out for dinner. We went to West View Hotel, which had recently been visited by two of the group on an earlier visit.
Looking forward to their promises of a charming meal, we were quite disappointed when we reached there to find out that they only took prior reservations. It was quite an anti climax, especially after we seated ourselves in a quaint dining room with a wood fireplace and floral wallpaper.
Our appetites remained hearty and we tanked up at a local eatery with uninspiring food, but I realized that everything tastes good in the mountains! After returning to the guesthouse, we admired the lit-up Christmas tree in the center of the lobby, which further enhanced the festive ambience. After ‘oohing’ and ‘ahing’ excitedly, we went back out to the sitting area. Instead of the golden sunshine, the area was now bathed in the reddish glow of a crackling bonfire. We nursed drinks in our gloved hands, gazed out into the inky darkness peppered with the occasional twinkling light from a neighboring house, debated the haunted look of a distant dilapidated building and enjoyed the star filled sky, a rare sight in the city. It made me realize all of a sudden that Ranikhet was just as enchanting as when I was a kid.
The red coals faded away gradually and we went up to our rooms, sinking into a comfortable deep slumber, a reward after a wonderfully full day. Only one of us woke up to appreciate the sunrise. Returning ruddy faced and proud of his first hand
experience, he showed the sleepy group his masterpieces – pictures of the first rays hitting the mountains in a magnificent display of color. We spent the rest of the half-day we had there soaking in the sun and gazing at a soaring eagle, while feeding our healthy appetites with a hearty breakfast and an even heartier lunch later. As we packed our bags and clambered back into the taxi, I looked around, reluctant to leave. I had achieved what I sought out of my weekend in Ranikhet – a fun weekend with friends away from my routine in the city. However, my reluctance had a lot more to do with leaving a place where I had actually managed to feel some of the emotions I had experienced as a child. We become fussy and cynical as we grow older. Nothing much has changed about Ranikhet, which is why it softens you, forcing you to relax and delight in its charming beauty – enjoying it in the same way you would as a child.
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