A visit to Lat Sahib's HeadQuarters

As I focussed my camera to take a picture of the Governor's House(Raj Bhavan) formerly called Government House, I chuckled inwardly at my poor Pahari imitation of the name from the Raj era- Lat Saab-ek-haveli..

The rising mists of the Monsoon set the perfect stage for this symbol of ancient majesty
Green is the new Purple!-the Monsoon green Deodar and Oak trees flanking the building, stand tall as the royal sentinels..
The architecture style is called Victorian Gothic domestic style, but to my vivid imagination, the front facade of the building looked like royal chess pieces laid out in this sprawling 220 acres lush green space. The police in their khakis completed the picture as the bored pawns, policing the handful of tourists.

The foundation stone of the Nainital Government House, modeled after Buckingham Palace, was laid on April 27, 1897, and the building was completed in March 1900. If memory serves right, the scaffolding and the repair work is a constant feature here, maintaining a century old building in a moisture rich atmosphere is a tall order.
Inside the building, water has seeped through the cracks and crevices of time, slowly staining the walls black and turning wooden floors mouldy. The combined effect of the constant temperature changes and the occasional dramatic hailstorms has shattered the old glass windows and glass houses. The almost shrunk bows with missing arrows, and the rusted muskets no more look menacing however the decorative animal head mounts do look menacing in this picture of slow decay and death.

The repair work has been underway since the last three years and certain parts of the building are closed for public viewing, the whole upper storey is out of bounds for tourists. The entrance foyer, ballroom, the dining space, the visitor's parlor are open for viewing. Most of the old paintings hanging on the walls have been treated and restored, the copper artefacts and the elephant tusks in the front foyer gleam eerily under the light of the grand chandeliers, the piano is kept dusted and tuned, the ballroom floor is still bouncy courtesy the springs embedded between the wooden floor boards. The guide usually makes the heftiest person in the group to jump so that the others can feel the bouncy floors. I believe this is a daily performance for the empty chairs now sitting around the ballroom!

Interestingly there is a certain vanity in all the present day repair work, the guide tells you proudly that the new renovation is modelled to replicate the current look of the Buckingham palace. The wallpaper and the carpets are same as the ones adorning the British royalty and are imported all the way from England. This 'good' part of the building is not open for general public viewing and you need to have some 'good contacts' to witness the current day luxury befitting the 'de-jure' head of the state.

Stepping out of the building is a slight relief as the stale mouldy air inside gets overbearing after a while(true only for the public section).
The well kept garden is truly inviting with multicoloured shrubs of hydrangea in full blossom. The uninterrupted expanse of green surrounding the property is a true testament to British idea of leisure, wooded pathways with trailing climbers, ornate lampposts, resting benches under the trees, stairways cutting across hill slopes.

And then there is the Golf course, an 18 hole golf course spread
over an area of 50 acres, at an altitude of 6500-6580 feet above sea level. Set in a lush and pristine hilly terrain surrounded by mixed forests, the changing elevation and thin mountain air(your ball travels longer here) make it a connoisseur's delight . The golf course has an underground tunnel to channel water to the lowest part of the course, a marvel of engineering skills of 1920's.















Apart from the touristy stuff, we also stood for a while standing and admiring the engineering details of one of the big drainage channels (nalas) constructed in the premise to allow for easy drainage of rain water. The frequent landslides in Nainital prompted the Britisher civil engineers to set up an elaborate system of drainage channels to save the hills from the ravages of heavy downpour. The rains of last year and flooding in neighbouring SukhaTaal brought the spotlight back on the neglected nalas- the lifeline of the hills..The 'Nala's' are again topical and trending courtesy high profile HighCourt orders but the real life picture hasn't changed much..

Also in close vicinity of the Raj Bhavan are the most prestigious boarding schools of Nainital. Founded during the British rule, each of these schools has a hundred year old rich history and many young lives have graduated from these hallowed portals to real world.
As we drove past the gates of my Alma Mater, I was flooded with fond memories of walking to Government grounds for school picnics. It was a magical place then.. and it is an equally magical place for me even today..!

Coming Home-II

Nainital, India:

After a very long time-almost 7 years I came home to the Monsoons in Nainital..

While growing up, these were the magical days of rising fog, green ferns, wild flowers, random waterfalls, brown snails & slugs, yellow raincoats, duckback rainboots, rainy-day holiday. This was also the season fraught with the perils of landslides, roadblocks, cloudbursts, waterborne diseases, fungi growth and damp smells. Every Monsoon season a wild river would usurp an adjoining village; a cloudburst would wipe off a complete village; landslides would trap unprepared travellers, but I guess we had accepted these risks as part of nature’s plan.

And then last year happened, days of heavy rains, large-scale destructions, thousands of deaths. However to call it nature’s fury would be naïve, last year was a man-made disaster in equal measure. We became victims of short sighted, half-baked development projects-Tehri dam, large-scale residential construction in eco-sensitive zones, greedy commercialization of religious pilgrimage and absence of any backup plans for a natural disaster.

I saw the ravages of last year and the current onslaught of the rains as we drove along the twisted-turning hilly road from Haldwani to Nainital.  We passed by broken roads, partially blocked roads and impatient people. Despite the sight of the lush green, the general air of apathy agitated me. The critical part of me could not shake off the thought: “Things seem to move backward here..”. Is it just the realist part of me questioning the status quo or am I enamored with the developed world and so critical of my modest pahad?

California, Nevada, Pacific Northwest USA:

California Coast: Brown hills with ridges sculpted by the whimsical winds and patches of stunted trees hurdled together in trenches. The restlessly beautiful waters, the splash of colors at sunset, the joy of taking the less-travelled secret hidden roads and discovering small cozy houses or lavish large ranches in the hills.

Nevada: Brown barren mounds of dusty hills, some had random single English letters etched upon them. This barren monotony was occasionally interrupted by pockets of sudden greens and flowing streams

Sequoia National park:Dusty brown hills with withered brown vegetation, sightings of burnt tinder and warnings of forest fires. Then after you climb 3000ft above sea level, the landscape changes completely, the hills became verdant green. These hills are home to some of the tallest trees in the world- Sequoia trees. You also find the sun at its playful best here, playing hide and seek with you and staging multiple ‘sun-sets’ as you climb down the hill.

Pacific northwest coast:Dark blue hills at a distance separated from land by water bodies, floating white clouds over the hills, tourists flocking with camera's to capture the colorful totems of the Red Indians along the waterfront..

When I drove along the US west coast soaking in the beauty, I was completely at peace, not a bit agitated by anything. The only distraction was the question of where to stop and eat (so many choices) first world problem!

It’s a familiar story you leave a loved one behind to meet new people. You see the idiosyncrasies and struggles of the old world in sharp contrast to the convenience and simplicity of living in the new world. You come back to the old world, only to find it encumbered in the old struggles. You look into the shriveled face of the loved one, the sunken cheeks smiling a shy toothy smile to welcome you.. You try to muster the humility to embrace him with the same warmth without the arrogance of judgment but it’s a labored effort.. Its not how it should be..

Then magically from somewhere the white Monsoon fog descends upon the hills, it hides everything from sight- everything visible to judgmental eyes- it conceals all the colors in its white embrace; the only sound is the falling rain. I stand at my balcony, stretch out my hands to feel the raindrops and in that moment of complete peace, I am finally home to the Monsoons in Nainital..