Spring is here, so are the colours

Ira  Pande

Spring, or Chaitra, is here and there is a decided change in the air. For me, born and nurtured in Kumaon, this is a very special time of year. After the harsh winter is over, the earth bursts into flower and children who have been swaddled in woollies and forbidden from playing in the snow are suddenly liberated. The forests are aflame with rhododendron blooms, their bright red bunches like a bouquet that nature presents us to announce the return of life. Chestnut trees burst into new leaves and the meadows are a carpet of wildflowers. As for the blossoms on the fruit trees -- they cover the entire tree so that scarcely a leaf can be seen. Wild, juicy berries are plucked off and dusted with masala salt to pop into eager mouths that are stained blue.

As a child, we would pick bright flowers off bushes and hedges and go from house to house to decorate the threshold with the pretty blooms. As a reward, we were given a bright silver coin and some sweets and blessed by the householder. I often wondered whether these charming rituals are still observed or whether we have lost them to popular Halloween style bhoots! I was glad to see on Ravish Kumar’s news programme recently that there are still bands of singing children who carry baskets of spring flowers from home to home. Sadly, the villages are being depleted of their residents as more and more hill people migrate to the plains, leaving their old homesteads locked. That is another story and will be addressed separately but today I want to take my readers on a trip through the hills in spring.

This year, we went up to Kumaon with the express intention of savouring the delights of this season and catching the spectacular snow views that are framed against a bright cerulean sky. To say that we were not disappointed would be an understatement for wherever we went, Trishul, Kamet, Nanda Ghunti and the pristine glory of the Nanda Devi mastiff were studded like a diamond tiara on the mountains. They played peekaboo with us, disappearing as we turned one corner only to emerge at the next turn. We had chosen Ranikhet as our base and stayed in a charming old-world hotel almost a century old, which is still furnished with the kind of chairs and beds that are scarcely seen in the posh new hotels now coming up in the hills. Brass four-poster spring beds, deep armchairs and cheery chintz-covered sofas – with bay windows designed to catch every bit of the bright sunshine. 

Ranikhet is the headquarters of the famous Kumaon regiment and the Army has appropriated the best part of the town. The old bungalows with slate roofs and deep verandas have been kept in mint condition as has the forest with oak, beech, pine, chestnut, rhododendron and whatnot. A delightful trekking path from the hotel to the main town and its golf course is thoughtfully provided with benches to rest on. On the upper reaches are two great vantage points, one of them belonged to Lord Mayo who fell in love with its snow-view, while the other is still called Queen’s Meadow after Queen Victoria. The peace and tranquillity that always comes with deep forests is like a soothing balm. Add to that clean mountain air and the Himalayan peaks and orchards around and you get a picture of the Shangri-la we went to. 

Unlike the rest of Kumaon that has been ravaged by development and tourism, the Army has successfully preserved this part of the hills. This is equally true of cantonment areas in Kasauli and Dagshai where the Army has managed to keep the land mafia out and ugly slum-like flats from sprouting. We were fortunate to get in touch with a local historian, Anil Joshi, who teaches at Kumaon University but lives in Ranikhet and is a fund of information. He took us to the areas around Ranikhet that we did not know of. What made this trip to Ranikhet so special was the weather, the snow views and the location. There are so many hidden gems still up in the hills and I hope they remain undiscovered for as long as they can. Also, try and go the hills in spring and autumn and you will come back rejuvenated.

On the long drive from Delhi to the hills and back, we were greeted with the wheat crop ripening nicely and the mango trees laden with blossoms. So here’s hoping we have a bumper crop this year to provide some cheer to our farmers. After their long trek to Mumbai and the exemplary discipline they displayed, there is not a single Indian who is indifferent to the fortitude, dignity and pitiful condition of this humble and indigent Indian. Remember how Gandhiji’s experiences in the indigo fields of Bihar changed his strategy of political protest. There is so much unhappiness and despair for our comatose Opposition to champion and change if only they would step out of their comfort zones and cushioned lives in Delhi. As long as they hold up parliament procedures and yell and scream on television debates, no one will listen to them. Surely, they should be able to see that. If not, they deserve to be defeated roundly in 2019.