Travel: Myriad hued mountains

[Frederick [FN] Noronha * फ्रेडरिक नोरोंया]

http://www.thestatesman.net/page.news.php?clid=30&theme=&usrsess=1&id=162701

Travel: Myriad hued mountains

Kasauni in February is resplendent with splashes of colour, especially
the blazing red rhododendron, writes an enchanted Kasturi Basu

Ominous dark clouds rapidly engulfing our hotel and lightning searing
across the vast expanse of impenetrable green on the Kumaon
ranges—this was Kausani when we reached there about four in the
evening after a four-hour journey from Almora. I had a good mind to
turn right back and catch a train to Kolkata.
We entered our room and I could not but sneak a look through the glass
panes. The view outside was breathtaking. The verdant greens
punctuated by clusters of villages suddenly made visible by the
lightning created myriad hues in the mountains. The storm seemed to
shake the very foundation of our hotel and I could not but blame my
father who at that point triumphantly announced that the entire
Himalayan range would be visible once this cloud cover lifted. 'Only
if we live to enjoy it,' I wanted to retort before I crept under the
heaviest quilt I had ever seen. The temperature had dropped a few
degrees suddenly and even in May we were quite happy to slip on our
pullovers before crawling under the quilt.
While nodding off to sleep I remembered the heated discussion among my
parents, which I had watched with trepidation because they invariably
ended in fierce arguments before we had decided that we needed a
break. Place has never been a subject of discussion; father invariably
coaxes, cajoles, and when all else fails bullies us into going to the
hills. It had been Garhwal last time and Kumaon was an easy choice;
Almora, Kausani, Chaukari—the tour was planned in a jiffy.
After months of whirlwind dashes to tourist offices, failed bookings
at the tourist bungalow, fierce debates on whether to carry mufflers
along with woollen caps, we finally landed at the picturesque
Kathgodam station at 5:30 in the morning.
It was a four-hour drive to Almora amidst the lush greenery and the
temperature dipped from pleasant to slightly chilly. Our driver had
doubled up as tour guide to initiate us with equal élan on the
difficulties of the terrain, the places to visit and the specialities
of each —the baal mithai and bronze utensils bazaar of Almora and
candles and the packaged rhododendron syrup of Nainital!
The 'Zero Point' at Binsar was a must-watch he had said before
dropping us at our hotel and sure enough in the evening we swathed
ourselves in woollens and trundled our way up a rather steep climb to
about 7,500 ft through Binsar Reserve Forest. The extremely narrow
road often made the car precariously swerve to the edge though the
entire journey was a priceless treat for the eyes.
Absolute silence except for the occasional shrill cry of an unknown
bird touched us; with every bend the car was deeper into the forest
and the play of darkness and bright sunlight flooding a clearing lent
it an almost eerie aura. The zero point, a clearing with a lone forest
guest house built by the British had a distinctly antique air about
it.
Wild boar and leopard are only too familiar neighbours especially
during the monsoon when no tourists come, or in winters when one is
forced to remain indoors as the area is covered with snow, the
caretaker explained. But come February and the place is resplendent
with splashes of colour, especially the blazing red rhododendron. The
weather and huge diversity of wildlife had turned this into a
favourite retreat for the sahibs.
From Almora with short halts at the 1,000-year-old temple of Baijnath
on the banks of river Gomti and Bageshwar—the confluence of rivers
Sarayu and Gomti—we were once again negotiating the twists and turns
through dense greenery on our way to Kausani.
But nothing had prepared us for the sight on the morning after the
storm. Sharp at four, there was a knock on the door. A hotel boy said
the sky was unusually clear and we scampered up to the terrace to
catch the first rays of the sun. The sky was alight with a thousand
stars and just when the waiting crowd was starting to grow fretful,
the darkness began to decrease till there was a shot of brilliant
orange in the east. And then a curtain seemed to be ripped away before
our eyes and as the manager rattled on the names of the peaks—
Chaukhamba, Nanda Ghunti, Nanda Devi, Trishul, Panchchulli — we gasped
at the spectacle of dazzling white forms across the horizon. But
barely for five minutes, and then they were bathed in the blinding
golden light that forced us to look away!
The Anashakti Ashram, which Gandhiji had built with the backdrop of
the Himalayas and which till today has maintained the pristine ashram
atmosphere, holding public prayer meetings twice a day with its stark
unassuming architecture, blended here perfectly.

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FN: Frederick Noronha
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