One Sunday night in Mumbai, Rishad Saam Mehta decided he wanted to see winter with snowflakes, frostbites and slippery roads. So 48 hours later, he and a friend drove off. Here's what happened
One Sunday night in Mumbai, Rishad Saam Mehta decided he wanted to see winter with snowflakes, frostbites and slippery roads. So 48 hours later, he and a friend drove off. Here's what happened
"But, but...the basin is missing" I sputtered in shock. However Ramesh Rangana wasn't too perturbed at finding a vital component of the bathroom missing.
Rangana, the deputy manager of Hotel Snow View in Chakrata, smiled.
"I know sir, but", he said again pausing for suspense as if his brain was being directed by Alfred Hitchcock, "I have for you" u2014 another long pause u2014 "two styles of toilets" and he pulled back the curtains to reveal two loos u2014 one western style and the other squat-on-your-haunches Indian style. Side by side!
Needless to say we weren't terribly excited about this basin-commode barter and politely rejected the room and moved into another one.
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Snow white
On a whim, two of us, old college mates, had pointed the nose of the new Toyota Corolla Altis north in an impulsive decision to hunt down some winter. We hit National Highway Number 8 precisely at 4.46 am on a Wednesday morning in Mumbai. It is because of the very enthusiastic engine and the brakes that have an unrelenting bite like that of a Rottweiler that we could munch miles at an astounding rate and make Ajmer, 1150 km away, in one driving day. Of course this came with a price and a grimace as we had to pull into fuel stations every 400-odd kilometers.
The next day we were in Delhi in time for afternoon tea.
Now, on our third night halt, we'd found the cold in Chakrata, a little hill station in Uttarakhand but chances of snow were bleak.
Sitting around the roaring bonfire, shivering in the 8 degree cold, the deputy manager sunk our hopes even lower by informing us that snowfall usually happens only in February.
"But I can offer you some soup, instead," he said brightly.
We accepted Random Ramesh's offer but the soup wasn't doing it for me and out came the Talisker 10-year-old Single Malt.
A few months back at the Talisker distillery on the Isle of Skye in Scotland, the old master distiller had handed me this bottle and told me "Laddie, sip a wee dram when ye are cold and dreary and she will warm the cockles of ye heart."
That cold evening in Chakrata, it definitely did that and also loosened Mr Rangana's tongue. As long as the simple tomato soup was flowing he was like Raju Guide telling us to see this and go there. But as soon as the water of life started to glide down his gullet he turned into a gossipy goose.
Random Secret
"I tell you a shheegret?" he whispered, beckoning us closer conspiratorially. "The LTTE headman Prabhakaran was trained here in Chakrata by the Indian Army."
He could be right because the quaint little 125-year-old cantonment in Chakrata is home to a branch of the army's Special Forces and the rugged Himalayan countryside is an ideal training ground for all kinds of commando courses.
The next morning we continued our quest for some white winter by pushing further north over a range and down into Himachal Pradesh's Pabbar Valley past the riverside towns of Tyuni and Hatkoti. The temperature was down to five degrees but the land around was dry and dull. The snow-capped Greater Himalayan Peaks that we knew were standing tall and proud above the lesser ranges remained hidden behind dense cloud banks.
At Hatkoti, we went left, up a range towards Theog and the Sutlej Valley. Here the stay option was at Khara Pathar which, being at 8,770 feet, would be considerably colder. The Giri Ganga Resort, a HPTDC property, exceeded all expectations. It was lavish with huge cozy rooms. And equipped with a heater too, which my co-traveller Chetan promptly wrapped himself around. It was so bl**dy cold.
But all that bone-chilling cold and obscuring clouds that we'd roundly cursed precipitated into what we'd been hunting for over 2,000 km.
I threw open the curtains to a white landscape the next morning. It had started snowing at around 2 am.
My high-decibel holler of happiness must have resounded across the Pabbar Valley. The land had gone from brown and boring to white and wonderful. This warmed me and shook off all the hesitancy of leaving the toasty warmth of the room even though it was below zero outside. I rushed out towards the reception.
My howl of joy had made the head waiter Satyam Sirbhal leap out of his bed with startling alacrity. He was at the reception heavy-lidded with an aura of slumber like a diesel engine that was still sputtering and trying to start up when I rushed at him like a locomotive. He was grateful of the reception desk between us.
Clumsily staying beyond my clutching distance, he told me that the roads would be iced up and that I should practice utmost caution while driving.
"Right now the car's tyres will feel like ball bearings on glass," he warned.
The Corolla felt a little nervous as we started off from its overnight parking space because the road all around was covered with glass like ice. Once we hit the tracks created by other cars the going was easier. Yet, gentleness was the order of the day. Any sudden changes to speed or direction could send the car in a slide.
u00a0
Gradual acceleration and just a whisper on the brakes was how I had to drive. But then all this going slow and gradual wasn't my idea of fun behind the wheel and so we strapped on the snow chains and showed a little audacity on those white-washed roads because suddenly the grip was back.
From Khara Pathar we decided to go to Thanedar because it definitely would have snowed there too as it is at quite a height. I also wanted to say hello to my very dear friend Mr Prakash Thakur who runs the charming Banjara Orchard Retreat in Thanedar.
Thanedar is my favourite place in the Himalayas and while we swapped stories and sipped the spicy hot soup that Sharmaji, the cook cum manager, had prepared, it continued to snow through the night.
But we woke up to bright blue skies the next day and promptly headed out to the Tani Jubbar Lake which is 8 kms from Thanedar. Though I have been here before, I have never seen it prettier. The lake reflected the bright blue sky and the crunchy and unblemished snow all around. The air was invigorating because it was clean and crispy cold. The Nag Devta temple looked a picture of piety with snow clinging to its slate roof and icicles beginning to form over its sides. And best of all, we were the only ones there.
Standing in the snow covered lawn of the little hotel there, staring out at the icy peaks and drawing warmth from a steaming cup of chai, I felt calm, content and cheerful.
We'd found the winter we'd been hunting for and it had been worth the chase.
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