Nainital

It was the day before Christmas, 2016. I had set the alarm for 4 oclock in the
morning. The first thing I did at the sound of the alarm was to jump out of bed,
part the curtains and look outside for signs of fog. Fog in the northern part of
India during winter is not only near opaque, but also extremely dangerous. I was
pleased to observe that there was just a trace of fog and I was able to see the
buildings a hundred metres away. But an hour later when we got into the car to
drive out, the gate at the entrance of our driveway was barely visible. A dense
cover of fog had descended and nothing, just about almost nothing, was visible
anymore. I reversed my car and brought it out onto the road in front of our
house. We started off from home almost blind and with untold trepidation. The
next 200 kilometres was traversed by looking only at the white marking at the
edge of the road for guidance and hoping like hell that I wouldnt crash into a car
ahead of me or a get hit by a car from behind. Progress was slow. We were
almost two hours behind schedule by the time we stopped at the town of
Gajraula on NH-24 for breakfast.
About 40 kilometres into our journey after leaving home, a Maruti Swift shot past
us from behind at a speed that appeared insane under the foggy conditions. Buri
remarked that the driver must have been mad to consider overtaking at such
speed. Less than five minutes later we saw that the car had crashed into the
rear of a 20 ton truck right on the middle lane of the GT Road! I stopped my car
right behind the Swift. The driver and the passengers seemed to be fine. They
had got out of their car and were inspecting the damage. I observed that the
front of the car had been utterly smashed. I drove on.
We entered Delhi after having driven for two and a half hours, a drive that
normally takes an hour and a half. The sky was beginning to brighten although it
was an unpleasant kind of a dull and diffused brightness that seemed to be
everywhere, not just the eastern sky. Visibility continued to be poor. We drove
into Old Delhi, went past the rear of Red Fort and crossed the Yamuna River to
head towards the neighbouring town of Ghaziabad. It was eight in the morning
and the sun was up in the sky looking despondent and pale, badly out of sorts,
struggling hard to make its presence felt. PG Wodehouse might have been
prompted to remark that the sun looked like a jaundiced circle with a secret
sorrow.
We climbed onto NH-24 and stopped at Bikanerwala in the town of Gajraula for
breakfast. The drive became easy only after hitting the Hapur bypass, when the
fog cleared up finally and I was able to press on the accelerator.
We bypassed Moradabad and entered Rampur. A political rally by the Samajwadi
Party was being held in the town and the road was jammed by people and
vehicles displaying the party flag. Although the town is named after the Hindu
god Ram, it is a predominantly Muslim town and women draped in that ungainly
head-to-toe black body bag called burqa were almost everywhere. It took us two
hours to cross the town, something that would have taken 10 minutes on a
normal day. Political rallies in India mean disruption of public life. Bigger the
disruption, greater the perceived impact of the politicians. I wonder if such
perverse mindset can be seen anywhere outside the subcontinent!

We drove towards Suar, en route to Nainital. I was puzzled that a town inhabited
by Muslims should be called Suar the Hindi word for pig! How could the town
possibly have the name of a proscribed animal? It was only when I drove
through the town and read the name written in Hindi that I realised it was Swar,
not Suar that the GPS on my phone had prompted. Swar, of course, means
voice, not pig.
After almost 9 hours of driving through the plains when we exited Swar and
entered the eastern fringe of Jim Corbett, and headed towards Kaladhungi, my
heart began to smile. We were driving through the forest with tall trees on either
side of the road. I could recognise the tall teaks. The sky was a deep blue and
the sun was now shining brightly, having asserted itself after a rather
embarrassing debut in the morning. Through the canopy of trees, sunlight
sneaked in and planted itself in patches on the road. We cruised along towards
Kaladhungi, the sleepy hamlet that served as the gateway to the hills. The road
in front of us was a mosaic of sunlight and shadow, a ribbon of grey speckled
with yellow.

With every bend in the road, we climbed higher and the temperature dropped.
We were almost there in Nainital. The teaks had changed to pines. There was a
nip in the air. And the sweet fragrance of the hills tinged the nostril. It was a
happy feeling.

After checking into our holiday home and after a quick cup of tea, we walked
down to the lake. Nainital was decked up for Christmas like a girl in her bridal
finery. She looked resplendent!
Nainital is a quaint town with just one major road The Mall Road. The Naini
Lake, or Naini Tal, is a kilometre long lake shaped like a kidney bean. If one
toiled hard to imagine, it might look like an eye (Nain). This is where the place
gets its name from. The upper end of the lake is called Mallital and the lower
part is called Tallital. One the edge of the lake at the Mallital end is the temple of
Naina Devi, the towns deity. From Mallital, there are two roads that go towards
Tallital, each along the either banks of the lake. The road on the left is called the
Mall Road, which is the hub of all activity in the town. The road on the right is
not a motorable one. It is a road for walkers and is called Thandi Sadak, or the
cold path.
The area around the Naina Devi temple is surrounded by a market of woollens
and eateries, run by the Tibetans in exile. It is called the Bhotia Market. It is
usually bustling with tourists who throng here as much for the inexpensive
woollen garments as for Tibetan delicacies. We entered an eatery named Hard
Rock (no relation to the famous Hard Rock Caf!) and ordered our favourites
steamed momos and thukpa. The food was delicious and the piping hot thukpa
was the perfect foil to the cold Christmas weather.

Dusk had set in and the bedecked town was beginning to look even more
beautiful. We strolled down Thandi Sadak all the way from Mallital to Tallital,
viewing the town from the opposite bank, the shimmer of the lights on the lakes
water looking absolutely magical.

At Tallital, we crossed over to the Mall Road and began walking back towards
Mallital. The Mall Road was full of people. The festive spirit of Christmas was
evident. Both the Methodist Church and the Cathedral of St Francis of Assisi had
been decorated with lights. A Christmas Carol group walked down Mall Road
singing Joy to the world. I was reminded of the Shillong of my Childhood when
December would mean singing carols. The churches had prepared themselves to
hold the midnight mass.

We had dinner at a restaurant named Machaan on Mall Road, preferring it over

Sakleys Bakery that had been recommended by a friend. The food was delicious
and worth the money. Once dinner was had, we hailed a taxi and took a ride
uphill to our holiday home. From our duplex cottage, the entire town of Nainital
glistened before us. It seemed as if the stars had come down on earth. Was this

what, I wondered, had prompted Gulzar to muse, Jab taare zameen par chalte
hain, aakash zameen ho jaata hai!