Song of the road

After you are done exploring Kasauli on foot, perfect the art of doing nothing

Kasauli is a walker's paradise.As an army cantonmenttown, restrictionsimposed by authoritieshave prevented the town frombeing taken over by modern concretestructures. At 6,400 feet inthe Shivalik Hills, away from family,television, Internet and every otherlife diversion, the potency of thetrip dawned upon us in its invitationto do nothing but lovingly confrontthe bare bones of existence.

Quiet walks through pine, oakand horse-chestnut trees, leisurelylunches and the opportunity tolose ourselves in rapt admirationof old fashioned buildings withgabled roofs and wooden balconieson the Upper andLower Mall the two mainstreets that run rightthrough the town prove tobe the most strenuous activitiesof our time spent here.

With all the usual associationsand activities oftourist travel stripped away,the absence of externaldistraction allows our mindto notice, appreciate andrevel in the small details,the little ironies. For instance,the view of the mountainsat dusk is quite mindboggling.They look intensely blue;the way mountains sometimespaintings.

Vibrant market
At first we assume thatonly dead objects, likethe lofty Christ Church,the oldest church inHimachal Pradesh, havingbeen built in 1853,will be welcoming ofour photographic overtures.But soon it isclear that the mountainfolk are eager to be partof the pictures we make.In the vibrant Kasaulimarket the shoe-sellerinsists his picture betaken with the devi in thebackground. The clothvendorreclining on the pile of materialhe has for sale, twirls his fingersthrough his gelled hair in anattempt to be captured on camerain the most flattering manner possible.The barber who specialises ina product called Ceramic Hair,doles out advice on the best trailsto take.

Gilbert's Trail, past the oldKasauli club, is among the most scenic,eclectic with life and colour. Thesmell of pine hangs in the air, sweetand heavy. Humming birds, flycatchers,minuets and magpies croon liltinglyabove. I stand very still listeningto the brook babble beneath myfeet, watching the picture thebranches make against the fleecyblue sky and for these few minutes,feel completely one with life.

Signs of a kind
As we walk along, we come acrosssigns to leave the crisp, bracingcountryside as we find it. Theyread, " Singapore = fine for littering= clean countryside, India = no fine= countryside clogged with litter,Kasauli = Rs 2500/- for littering, sobeware!"

We hike up to Sanawar Hill. Thishill is as famous for Lawrence'sSchool, a public institution foundedby Sir Henry Lawrence, as it is forthe horse-chestunt lemony blossoms,ivory bell shaped flowers andwild cacti along the way. The climbends, as all good walks ought, witha jolly good meal in Dharampur, atGianiji's famous dhaba that servesgiant helpings of dal makhani andhot-from-the-tandoor rotis.

Then evening descends andstretches before us like an unbrokendesert. We check off our to-dolist. We've taken the walk toMonkey Point the highest lookoutin town, drunk chai with thereal estate-dealer who walks hisSaint Bernard dog up the mall,admired Khushwant Singh's homein this writer's paradise of a town,bought fruit wines and apple-mintgingerjams to take to the folksback home, eaten caramel custardat restaurants as fading as the Raj.All that remains, now that there isnothing left to do, is to plummetforth into an unbroken, unbusyexpanse of time.

When she isn't teaching at StXavier's College, Sonia can be foundbrandishing pen and camera on hertravels around the world.

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