Dadi’s haveli and her alsi pinnis at Hoshiarpur

Visits to grandparents’ houses, especially during the summer vacations, seemed an integral part of our culture. It was an annual ritual, especially for those growing up in the 60s and 70s, even 80s. Such excursions to Hoshiarpur where my grandparents lived were a treasured ritual for us, too. While my parents worked in Shimla, our roots lay in this vibrant town, renowned for its spiritual heritage and educational excellence.

From the 1960s to the 80s, our journey unfolded like a storybook — first by narrow gauge train to Kalka, then a night-long steam locomotive ride to Hoshiarpur. Holdalls in hand, soot-kissed cheeks, and eager hearts marked our voyage. Early mornings brought us to Bahadarpur in a rickshaw or a tonga, past Swarn Talkies and the majestic Ghantaghar.

At the heart of it all stood our grandparents’ grand haveli — echoing with warmth, dadi’s story-telling sessions, and laughter. We roamed its many rooms, marvelled at Dadu's gramophone and at a well inside the haveli, which was an architectural marvel channelling water through hidden walls to the kitchen and bathroom.

The marketplace brimmed with nostalgia — artisans making bronze artefacts; melt-in-your-mouth peda and rabri from the famous Madan Halwai's hatti were a delight to look forward to every visit. My grandmother's alsi laddoos and pinnis still remain unmatched.

These memories, steeped in love and tradition, are timeless treasures etched upon my mind.

Smriti Rana, Shimla