Janhavi Prasada’s ‘Nainital: Through Memories, Stories & History’ celebrates a hill town

In ‘Nainital: Through Memories, Stories & History’, Janhavi Prasada attempts an ambitious task: to capture the essence of one of the Himalayas’ most beloved lake towns by blending personal recollections, historical fragments and contemporary observations. The result is a warm, readable volume that offers something for almost every reader, from long-time residents and mountain aficionados to first-time visitors who know the town only through postcards and summer stories.

Prasada’s writing is rooted in affection. She approaches Nainital not as a detached chronicler but as someone who has walked its slopes, watched its moods change with the light and absorbed the quiet rhythms that make the town feel like ‘home’ rather than just a tourist destination. This personal familiarity gives the book an inviting tone. The sketches and maps that accompany the narrative further enrich the experience; they are thoughtfully included and will appeal to readers who enjoy visual cues that help situate a place in memory.

Yet it is precisely because Nainital is a place of layers — of colonial history, ecological fragility, rich birdlife, local folklore, and shifting cultures — that one wishes the book lingered longer in certain corners. The chapters often open doors to engaging themes but move past them quickly, as if wary of overstaying.

The town’s flora and fauna, for instance, appear in evocative glimpses, but the natural world is never explored in the depth one might expect for a region that has inspired generations of naturalists and conservationists. Similarly, local stories and everyday cultural practices are introduced with charm, but just when the narrative begins to build momentum, it veers into another direction.

This is not a flaw so much as a reflection of the book’s chosen form. The author tries to straddle memoir, travelogue, and historical account. The reader senses that there is a vast reservoir of material behind each anecdote, each historical event, and each reminiscence, and this makes the lightly sketched sections feel like teasers. One is left wanting more: from the archives, the lived experiences of locals, the old houses and institutions that shaped the town’s character, and the changing ecology, especially that of the lake, which remains central to the town’s identity.

Still, the book shines in its intent. As the town faces an existential crisis from overtourism, it underscores that Nainital is not merely a hill station framed by cliches of bright yachts and bustling markets, but a living, evolving canvas where memory and landscape are intertwined. Prasada invites readers to look beyond the seasonality of tourism and to consider the quieter rhythms — the school-year cycles, the everyday marketplaces, the shifting neighbourhoods, and the silent transformations wrought by both climate change and development.

For residents or those familiar with the region, the book offers a gentle reminder of what often goes unnoticed: how the town holds stories in its bends and shadows, and how even mundane routines can carry the weight of history. For newcomers, it functions as a welcoming primer, an accessible doorway that sparks curiosity without overwhelming them with dense historical detail.

This is a book of promise. It hints at many directions — environmental, cultural, historical — and touches each with sincerity, even if briefly. There is generosity in its tone and a desire to celebrate the town without romanticising it. And therein lies its charm.

Readers may long for deeper dives into certain subjects, but they will also appreciate the breadth of the canvas and the warmth with which it is painted. For a town that has long straddled nostalgia with change, this is perhaps one way of telling its tale.

— The reviewer is an outdoor enthusiast and climate expert