JOIN USAdorning the Lesser Himalayas, the unspoilt town of Darjeeling has natural treasures that appeal to the senses, writes Chitra Ramaswamy .
It is late afternoon when we reach Siliguri from Kolkata by road. The change in landscape and weather are dramatic as we begin the ascent from Siliguri on NH 55 to Darjeeling, The Land of Thunderbolt, our holiday destination. Everything around us looks green, and we smell the pine in the air. Within the hour, as we snake our way through narrow, bumpy and steeply inclined roads, hugging umpteen hairpin drives, dusk envelops us. Except for silhouettes of dense tall patches of trees, there is nothing much we see.
All of three hours and one final purge up a near-vertical incline through a slim alleyway, viola, our car comes to a screeching halt at Sterling Resorts, Ghoom, where we are booked. For us ex-Delhi-ites who have lost touch with the city and its winter for over two decades, Darjeeling is freezing! But only just. A tongue-blistering steaming bowl of soup does the trick before we tuck ourselves under heavy blankets and soon fall into a well of blissful slumber.
Our holiday begins in true style the following morning when we wake up to a leisurely breakfast before heading out to the town centre. The range of snow-kissed peaks of the majestic Kanchenjunga is everywhere around us as it dominates the town’s skyline. Hordes of vehicles zip through the narrow and winding Hill Cart Road, which is a segment of NH 55. In spite of the frenetic pace of vehicular traffic, life of the natives, we notice, is fairly laidback.
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Rolling meadows and tea estates, deep, dense forests of evergreens, oaks, pines, cedar and deodars, endless varieties of fragrant blossoms, towering ranges, tumbling waterfalls, stunning vistas, friendly natives — Darjeeling has them all! Surprisingly, in a country where cricket has become religion and Sachin its demi-god, we see a couple of kids wield not the willow but enjoying a game of badminton on the streets. Even more surprising, they tell us they want to become Padukones and Nehwals! This desire for the pursuit of a non-cricketing sport comes as a whiff of fresh air. We wish these kids good luck and continue on our tour of the city.
We foot 8 km and more, exploring the throbbing centre of Darjeeling — the Chowrasta and its vicinity that includes the Observatory Hill, the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, the Padmaja Naidu Zoological Park with fascinating wildlife, the sprawling Llyod Botanical Garden and the Natural History Museum displaying Himalayan fauna. As we walk through its lanes and bylanes, it is palpable that the Queen of Hills yet retains some of the charms of the British Raj, whether in its mansions and buildings or in the bakeries and cafes. We spend a few hours in Chowrasta, a large asphalted area with its array of shops, restaurants and sights with pigeon-feeding and pony-riding activities seemingly popular. The shops-ridden alleyways leading to Chowrasta present a veritable Disneyland of colours.
Insider-outsider
Our trip to the Mall the following day begins on a slightly sour note. As we move to park our vehicle in the parking lot, we have some altercation with the local drivers who are unhappy about allowing baaharwale (outsiders) from using their parking space. Their logic appears ridiculous to me as I believe I’m still Indian and very much an andharwali on this count, to use their terminology! The Mall is ablaze with colour from shops that vend an assortment of wares from souvenirs to clothes and jewellery. We bite into some vegetarian momos here, draining them with an aromatic cup of tea and tap and churn the Buddhist singing bowls before buying a couple of them as souvenirs. Yet another surprise that the hill station throws up is the absence of dahi or lassi in most of its eateries, whereas ice-creams are freely available! And for us, South Indians, a meal is barely complete without lassi, if not curd rice.
An hour’s drive from our resort takes us to Gangamaiya Falls and Rock Garden, where we spend an entire day. The ambience here is paradoxically as serene and as it is spectacularly beautiful, attracting visitors in droves. The drive is rather steep and the road is bad in stretches. Music is everywhere, matching rhythm to the symphony of the cascading waterfalls, amidst abundant greenery and artistically landscaped gardens. It’s a day well spent in the twin sites, soaking in the pristine mountain surrounds through every pore. Perhaps, one would wonder if I have gone bonkers when I say that the highlight of the day’s trip is the availability of buttermilk in 200 ml tetra packs!
Our visit to Tiger Hills for a view of sunrise over the distant snow-capped peaks is disappointing. Though we wait patiently for over an hour, we do not get to see the giant rise and shine, thanks to the mist that plays spoilsport. As if to make up for this missed opportunity, the journey to Batasia Loop on Darjeeling’s famous toy train with it twists and 360-degree turn is fascinating. There is a steady, perceptible drop in atmospheric temperature as the train reaches Ghoom, the highest point of its journey at 7,407 feet.
The train chugs away very close to the village dwellings, belching thick black smoke as it trundles along the curvaceous tracks, flanked by a variety of trees and rolling tea plantations. It halts at the war memorial dedicated to the soldiers of Darjeeling. We wind the day visiting the 15-foot Maitreya Buddha at the Ghoom Monastery, the small Ava Art Gallery displaying intricate embroidery works of the late Ava Devi and the pagoda-style Dhirdham Temple modelled on Kathmandu’s Pashupatinath Temple.It is Chowrasta again on our last day in Darjeeling. We spend a few hours here sipping cuppas of the town’s famed brew with its characteristic muscatel flavour in a medley of blends — Black, Green, White and Oolong — and watch the world go by. Lunch is at the landmark Keventer’s. We bid farewell to Darjeeling with a visit to the Tibetan Refugee Centre, the Bhutia Busty Monastery, a 20-minute walk from Chowrasta and the sparkling white, 28.5m-high Peace Pagoda, with its fine sandstone sculptures narrating the life of the Buddha.