It is a hot and humid morning as we try to make ourselves comfortable in the big taxi that accommodates six people. After two decades I am vacationing with my parents, for my son and husband it’s the first time to travel together. The drive turns out mostly uneventful and except for the lone tea break, we complete the journey in one three-hour shot. About a couple of hours, the heat loosens up and breaths come easy as the environment turns green, and trees line the mountains. Even with non-stop proliferation, there are yet mountains completely uninhabited, green and serene, in- between the hush of the big mountain towns and cities.
As we reach closer to the town, monkeys appear on the sidewalks swinging on the trees or munching down snacks left by locals. My son is both amused and scared and looks in awe at the spectacle now facing him. Seeing animals roaming freely on streets has shocked his American sensibilities as he tries to adjust in a world on the opposite side of the globe. For me the monkeys evoke childhood memories of trips to the hills and tales of bananas’ being snatched.
The road to Shimla is paved with smoothness as the highway stretches new and large, unbelievable in its modern make. Flagrant new bridges come up on the way that would make the transport even more modern and quicker. The last journey twenty-five years ago had taken us six hours while this one took three.
The ease of travel doesn’t end there. The mall road has become a no drill accessible area where two elevators placed in succession land you in the sweet spot at the entry of a well laid out local market on the mall road. Reminiscence of the last time we huffed and puffed our way to the mall road, climbing at least a few hundred stairs in over two hours made this elevator enabled ascent and descent even more sweet. The shops are modernized, and chocolate chai is served in earthenware, posters of Ronaldo and Messi line the floor wares sold by hawkers. In the throes of modernity, the old HPMC juice shop still stands selling chocolates made by women. Oddly the old open ice staking rink is missing and in its wake several buildings cover up the scene.
The president’s summer house has opened up last year and is open for viewing. The staff is courteous and transports everyone in golf carts to the two-hundred-year-old building. The tour is laden with stories of Presidents of India, old and new.
While I revel in the serene beauty of Shimla the first day, the second day lands some disappointment as I witness the changing face of Kufri. The high mountain trekking has taken the place of the lounging yak rides and zoo visits of the dying resort that was once a place of excitement and wonder. My son is of course more interested in the new cars and the adventure parks that have now replaced the old jaunts. It’s not the same essence but the beauty of Shimla remains the same, with the Hanuman murti looking from the mountain above.
It takes a few minutes to sink in but as with everything the essence of time cannot be undermined. In the evening clouds overcast the sky and roam about the same height as us, covering us with their cool wetness. Some things change for the better and some for the worse, yet the beauty of mountains stands tall and as exhilarating as ever.
Priyanka Goyal Mansata 