Once upon a time there was a piece of land up on the hills of the eastern Himalayas known as independent Sikkim. This was before the British arrived in India. One part of this hill-state was believed to have "holy and energetic powers" by a certain lama from Pemayangste Monastery of the region. The lama was called Dorje Rinzing. During one of his visits to this particular hill spot he decided to lay down his shrine right at the top. The local people named this area after the holy man and called it Dorje Ling - the "abode of Dorje (the lama)" or the "abode of the Dorje the thunderbolt".
Soon after the British established their headquarters or seat of government in Calcutta, they began to scout around for an elevated location with a cool climate to nurse their sick and wounded. They persuaded the Chogyal (King) of Sikkim to gift them this parcel of land on which lama Dorje Rinzing had built his shrine. They merged this bit of land with the province of Bengal. The shrine was subsequently shifted down to Ging Monastery in Bhutia Basti where it stands till today, but the place continued to carry the name bestowed upon it by the locals. It was the British who anglicised it to Darjeeling and called the hilltop Observatory Hill.
This then is the origin of Darjeeling - many things to many people, from a holy land to a beautiful hill station, to a place which pays humble obeisance to the mighty Goddess - the Kanchenjunga - through the prayers and worship of the local populace!
My undying love affair with Darjeeling started long ago when I spent my childhood in its bosom. The time spent living in Darjeeling was a happy one for this youngster who did not have a care in the world in those halcyon years. Everything that Darjeeling could give was cherished and nurtured with childish zeal. Those were formative and impressionable years for me and, not surprisingly, the lure of the little hill station got absorbed into my blood stream for good. The love only got reinforced every time I went back, which was quite regularly for years to come.
Having settled down in the concrete jungle of the National Capital Region on my own volition and with eyes wide open, there is scant excuse to regret the decision. But being a Delhi-ite has in no way dimmed the memory of that wonderful place in the distant hills of W.Bengal. Living far away has its limitations and to me nothing could be more limiting than being unable to go back to Darjeeling regularly, like it was possible in my years in Kolkata. A family trip for a week in 1982 was the last that we managed and it seemed destined to remain so. Or so I thought!
After a gap of a full 29 years, Kumi and I went back to beloved Darjeeling in end-April this year. People who heard of our plans questioned our wisdom in deciding to do so. Amazingly, folks living in Siliguri, a stepping stone from the hill station (3 hours drive), were the most shocked at our alleged foolishness. They said nothing works there any more. It is dirty & filthy, full of concrete structures, full of shacks, hotels have been shut down, there is water shortage, electricity outages, the local people are hostile and rude etc etc etc. They said that Darjeeling has changed. It is not the same any more. So much so that, having committed ourselves we were in a real dilemma on the eve of our scheduled arrival in Darjeeling. To cancel and lose a lot of money or go? In the end we decided to press on and leave everything to our luck.
Thank God that we did, for we had a wonderful four days at the top! Kumi and I were not on a journey of discovery of Darjeeling. We have been to that hill station many times. We wanted simply to relive the experience of 1982. We were looking forward primarily to spending quality time in the same hotel, located in such sylvan surroundings, where we had such a memorable holiday long ago. We did not need to venture beyond the Observatory Hill, the Chowrasta, the Mall Road, Birch Hill Road, Keventer's and Glenary's. The lovely lawns and terraces of the hotel itself were attractions enough for lazing and whiling away the time!
The hospitality of the hotel itself is a high! The fabulous meals (included in the tariff) are simply a gourmet’s delight. The service is so polished that it makes one feel like a celebrity all the time. Even the cup of tea and the sandwiches & cakes served at 4.00pm every day in the parlour, seemed to assume special taste and flavours in the homely ambience of a warm décor, a roaring fire and congenial company! And what to say of the candlelight dinners every evening? Just a dream!
Kumi and I spent a lot of time in strolling along the serene and beautiful Mall Road around the Observatory Hill. After the walk in snowfall in Canada, it was a different kind of ethereal feeling to walk about in a pure, cool mountain mist! The interplay of mist and sunshine on the hills was magical. We would often stop by the railing just to watch the fog rolling in from the valley. It was something special to be able to gaze at the mountains and know that we were looking at Sikkim, Bhutan, Nepal and even Tibet in the far distance.
The one regret was that we were unable to see the snow range from town. The sky did not clear enough to reveal the majesty of the Kanchenjunga even once. We did venture to Tiger Hill, where after a disappointing hour, the mountain goddess condescended to show herself, very briefly, at sunrise! And what a sight that was! A once-in-a-lifetime experience!
Of course Darjeeling has changed! The area just below the Planters' Club has become the taxi stand. The Capital Cinema, which was a landmark for our home is no more, although the clock tower remains. The Rink Cinema is now a shopping mall. A lot of open spaces have been filled up - like the Victoria Park which used to be my playground and which was there even in 1982. A flea market has sprung up on Nehru Road. There are a lot more buildings on the hillsides than what I remembered from the past.
But this was only to be expected! Darjeeling has not deteriorated any more than any of the hill stations in the North. We were given horror pictures of the place. We know very well that the long-drawn Gorkhaland agitation has had its toll on the hill station. But what Kumi and I saw and felt was an experience of a different kind altogether.
With whomsoever we came into contact – and I am talking about the local hill people - was helpful, polite (not at all sullen) and willing to go the extra mile for our benefit or comfort. For instance, the three drivers that ferried us from place to place were sheer assets to have alongside.
The street cleaners were on the job morning and afternoon. In fact Kumi remarked that if only the Delhi roads were cleaned as thoroughly and regularly, the city would improve vastly in everybody’s view! The old favourites like Keventer’s and Glenary’s are still going strong and serve yummy ham sandwiches, shakes and other delights. The Planter’s Club looked good – at least from the outside. Chowrasta was clean and always full of people including a fare share of foreigners! We should know because we spent a lot of time there – just sitting and watching the small world of the hills go by. The hotels were almost filled to capacity, which was surprising! After all it was very much the off-season in Darjeeling!
In the end, I would say that our visit to what the Brits had dubbed the ”Queen of the Hills” was well worth the time and money spent. I think it is futile to compare the place with what it was 50 years ago. It is no worse than any other hill station and it has an unparalled scenic beauty which only the eastern Himalayas can provide. It is therefore well worth the while to back one’s desire to visit Darjeeling and not to pay too much attention to what people say about the place. There is no dearth of prophets of doom!
I cannot help but end my little narrative with what was perhaps the high point of the holiday for me personally. On arrival at the hotel, I made my way to the reception to check in. As I was talking to the manager, a foreigner lady ( to me British from the way she spoke) came and welcomed me. I was a bit taken aback because I could not figure out who she was! Later on I discovered that she was the Executive Director of the hotel – and indeed a British lady by the name of Elizabeth Clarke! Anyway, what puzzled me then and amused me later were her actual words of welcome. Even as I was talking to the manager she came, shook my hand and said “welcome to India”! See what I mean?
It only remains for me to add that, before landing up at Darjeeling, we had spent 2 days in my niece’s place in Siliguri. Siliguri is a big city now, the second biggest in W.Bengal. Needless to say it was beyond recognition. This is not really surprising because I was visiting the place after 29 years! Siliguri is now like any other B class city in India with its share of hotels, restaurants, shopping malls, multi-plexes, fast-food chains, ice-cream parlours, beauty parlours, et al!
However, the drive around the Terai on our second day of stay was truly memorable and highly nostalgic. We drove through the beloved Simulbari Tea Estate where, over the years, I had spent months together in fun-filled holidays, either with the extended family or with my own friends or both!
We drove over the Rakti river which used to be a must-visit for most of us, especially in the hours between breakfast and lunch in the good old Simulbari days. This was where one could get into the water and brave the challenges of the thigh-deep but extremely fast-flowing river!
We discovered a new road to Kurseong which has been driven through the Rhohini Tea Estate which is just adjacent to Simulbari! We also drove through old familiar areas of Marionbari, Panighata, Tirrihana, etc, all replete with fond memories. We crossed the Balason river several times bringing back memories of picnics with mangoes and beer chilled in the river bed!
The Terai remains a beautiful segment of North Bengal in spite of the ravages of the Gorkhaland activism. The tea plantations, the gurgling rivers and the backdrop of the blue hills of the lesser Himalayas, together make a very attractive picture which needs to be savoured.
Soon after the British established their headquarters or seat of government in Calcutta, they began to scout around for an elevated location with a cool climate to nurse their sick and wounded. They persuaded the Chogyal (King) of Sikkim to gift them this parcel of land on which lama Dorje Rinzing had built his shrine. They merged this bit of land with the province of Bengal. The shrine was subsequently shifted down to Ging Monastery in Bhutia Basti where it stands till today, but the place continued to carry the name bestowed upon it by the locals. It was the British who anglicised it to Darjeeling and called the hilltop Observatory Hill.
This then is the origin of Darjeeling - many things to many people, from a holy land to a beautiful hill station, to a place which pays humble obeisance to the mighty Goddess - the Kanchenjunga - through the prayers and worship of the local populace!
My undying love affair with Darjeeling started long ago when I spent my childhood in its bosom. The time spent living in Darjeeling was a happy one for this youngster who did not have a care in the world in those halcyon years. Everything that Darjeeling could give was cherished and nurtured with childish zeal. Those were formative and impressionable years for me and, not surprisingly, the lure of the little hill station got absorbed into my blood stream for good. The love only got reinforced every time I went back, which was quite regularly for years to come.
Having settled down in the concrete jungle of the National Capital Region on my own volition and with eyes wide open, there is scant excuse to regret the decision. But being a Delhi-ite has in no way dimmed the memory of that wonderful place in the distant hills of W.Bengal. Living far away has its limitations and to me nothing could be more limiting than being unable to go back to Darjeeling regularly, like it was possible in my years in Kolkata. A family trip for a week in 1982 was the last that we managed and it seemed destined to remain so. Or so I thought!
After a gap of a full 29 years, Kumi and I went back to beloved Darjeeling in end-April this year. People who heard of our plans questioned our wisdom in deciding to do so. Amazingly, folks living in Siliguri, a stepping stone from the hill station (3 hours drive), were the most shocked at our alleged foolishness. They said nothing works there any more. It is dirty & filthy, full of concrete structures, full of shacks, hotels have been shut down, there is water shortage, electricity outages, the local people are hostile and rude etc etc etc. They said that Darjeeling has changed. It is not the same any more. So much so that, having committed ourselves we were in a real dilemma on the eve of our scheduled arrival in Darjeeling. To cancel and lose a lot of money or go? In the end we decided to press on and leave everything to our luck.
Thank God that we did, for we had a wonderful four days at the top! Kumi and I were not on a journey of discovery of Darjeeling. We have been to that hill station many times. We wanted simply to relive the experience of 1982. We were looking forward primarily to spending quality time in the same hotel, located in such sylvan surroundings, where we had such a memorable holiday long ago. We did not need to venture beyond the Observatory Hill, the Chowrasta, the Mall Road, Birch Hill Road, Keventer's and Glenary's. The lovely lawns and terraces of the hotel itself were attractions enough for lazing and whiling away the time!
The hospitality of the hotel itself is a high! The fabulous meals (included in the tariff) are simply a gourmet’s delight. The service is so polished that it makes one feel like a celebrity all the time. Even the cup of tea and the sandwiches & cakes served at 4.00pm every day in the parlour, seemed to assume special taste and flavours in the homely ambience of a warm décor, a roaring fire and congenial company! And what to say of the candlelight dinners every evening? Just a dream!
Kumi and I spent a lot of time in strolling along the serene and beautiful Mall Road around the Observatory Hill. After the walk in snowfall in Canada, it was a different kind of ethereal feeling to walk about in a pure, cool mountain mist! The interplay of mist and sunshine on the hills was magical. We would often stop by the railing just to watch the fog rolling in from the valley. It was something special to be able to gaze at the mountains and know that we were looking at Sikkim, Bhutan, Nepal and even Tibet in the far distance.
The one regret was that we were unable to see the snow range from town. The sky did not clear enough to reveal the majesty of the Kanchenjunga even once. We did venture to Tiger Hill, where after a disappointing hour, the mountain goddess condescended to show herself, very briefly, at sunrise! And what a sight that was! A once-in-a-lifetime experience!
Of course Darjeeling has changed! The area just below the Planters' Club has become the taxi stand. The Capital Cinema, which was a landmark for our home is no more, although the clock tower remains. The Rink Cinema is now a shopping mall. A lot of open spaces have been filled up - like the Victoria Park which used to be my playground and which was there even in 1982. A flea market has sprung up on Nehru Road. There are a lot more buildings on the hillsides than what I remembered from the past.
But this was only to be expected! Darjeeling has not deteriorated any more than any of the hill stations in the North. We were given horror pictures of the place. We know very well that the long-drawn Gorkhaland agitation has had its toll on the hill station. But what Kumi and I saw and felt was an experience of a different kind altogether.
With whomsoever we came into contact – and I am talking about the local hill people - was helpful, polite (not at all sullen) and willing to go the extra mile for our benefit or comfort. For instance, the three drivers that ferried us from place to place were sheer assets to have alongside.
The street cleaners were on the job morning and afternoon. In fact Kumi remarked that if only the Delhi roads were cleaned as thoroughly and regularly, the city would improve vastly in everybody’s view! The old favourites like Keventer’s and Glenary’s are still going strong and serve yummy ham sandwiches, shakes and other delights. The Planter’s Club looked good – at least from the outside. Chowrasta was clean and always full of people including a fare share of foreigners! We should know because we spent a lot of time there – just sitting and watching the small world of the hills go by. The hotels were almost filled to capacity, which was surprising! After all it was very much the off-season in Darjeeling!
In the end, I would say that our visit to what the Brits had dubbed the ”Queen of the Hills” was well worth the time and money spent. I think it is futile to compare the place with what it was 50 years ago. It is no worse than any other hill station and it has an unparalled scenic beauty which only the eastern Himalayas can provide. It is therefore well worth the while to back one’s desire to visit Darjeeling and not to pay too much attention to what people say about the place. There is no dearth of prophets of doom!
I cannot help but end my little narrative with what was perhaps the high point of the holiday for me personally. On arrival at the hotel, I made my way to the reception to check in. As I was talking to the manager, a foreigner lady ( to me British from the way she spoke) came and welcomed me. I was a bit taken aback because I could not figure out who she was! Later on I discovered that she was the Executive Director of the hotel – and indeed a British lady by the name of Elizabeth Clarke! Anyway, what puzzled me then and amused me later were her actual words of welcome. Even as I was talking to the manager she came, shook my hand and said “welcome to India”! See what I mean?
It only remains for me to add that, before landing up at Darjeeling, we had spent 2 days in my niece’s place in Siliguri. Siliguri is a big city now, the second biggest in W.Bengal. Needless to say it was beyond recognition. This is not really surprising because I was visiting the place after 29 years! Siliguri is now like any other B class city in India with its share of hotels, restaurants, shopping malls, multi-plexes, fast-food chains, ice-cream parlours, beauty parlours, et al!
However, the drive around the Terai on our second day of stay was truly memorable and highly nostalgic. We drove through the beloved Simulbari Tea Estate where, over the years, I had spent months together in fun-filled holidays, either with the extended family or with my own friends or both!
We drove over the Rakti river which used to be a must-visit for most of us, especially in the hours between breakfast and lunch in the good old Simulbari days. This was where one could get into the water and brave the challenges of the thigh-deep but extremely fast-flowing river!
We discovered a new road to Kurseong which has been driven through the Rhohini Tea Estate which is just adjacent to Simulbari! We also drove through old familiar areas of Marionbari, Panighata, Tirrihana, etc, all replete with fond memories. We crossed the Balason river several times bringing back memories of picnics with mangoes and beer chilled in the river bed!
The Terai remains a beautiful segment of North Bengal in spite of the ravages of the Gorkhaland activism. The tea plantations, the gurgling rivers and the backdrop of the blue hills of the lesser Himalayas, together make a very attractive picture which needs to be savoured.
Brings back pleasant memories of Simulbari & Darj in the summer of 61. Those were the days my friend, we thouht would never end....
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