My Kingdom for a Signpost in Shimla

Back when the British ran India, one summer the guy in charge turned to his mate and said "It's bloody hot here in Delhi, lets move". Actually, since they were British, he probably said "Old chap, I say it is frightfully hot here. What say we relocate to cooler climes.". Either way, for the five or six summer months, when Delhi is almost uninhabitable the entire government relocated to the town of Shilma. Located in the foothills of the Himalayas north of Delhi, it is cool year round and was the most important, if not the most famous of the hill stations.
In order to reach Shimla, the first step is to take a train to Kalka, which is a town located right where the Himalayas flatten out to the Ganges plain. Raj had booked me a seat on the express train, which is the pride of the Indian train system and it was just like travelling in Europe (with more slums whizzing by). There was great air conditioning, food and tea served often and fold down tables. I could get used to travelling like this. Outside, once we cleared the town limits of Delhi, it was not much different to what we had been seeing over the last two weeks and so I concentrated on my crosswords for much of the journey.

Once the train arrived in Kalka, I switched trains to the Himalayan Queen, a toy train that would take me the 96 kilometers to Shimla. Because there are a number of mountain ridges to cross, the narrow gauge train is only six carriages long, passed through 102 tunnels and takes about five hours to over the distance. Sitting in the train, I was in a group of seven seats with a family of five and some random Indian guy. I was sharing a tiny bench seat with a teenage Indian girl and had to spend the time with only one and a half butt cheeks on the seat. Even like this we had shoulders and thighs pressed together and if we sat any closer, I am pretty sure that under Indian law we would have been married.

There was one event that happened on the train ride, which I relate to you, not as a comment on Indians, but simply to show how different the culture is to the one in which I live. While we were stopped at a station three quarters of the way up the hill, I was standing in the doorway when a large yellow dog and a small black puppy came up begging for food. Both looked very malnourished, especially the puppy. The girls I was sitting with eating lunch and threw a piece of bread out the window for the dogs. The puppy tried to get in to get some and the bigger dog bit it to get it out of the way. Now I am not quite sure how, but the bite clearly crushed the skull of the puppy and it immediately went down, twitched and went still as a pool of blood poured out. Now, if this were a group of teenage girls in the US or Australia, I am sure that there would have been screaming and crying. The older Indian girl, however, just gave me a look that said "what are you going to do?" and went on with lunch and the conversation with her family. Now I am not a dog guy, but I was a little weirded out by this but they didn't blink. I just don't understand people that are compassionate enough to feed stray dogs but then don't blink at death. Maybe it is a cultural thing or a product of a Hindu upbringing, but clearly the attitude to death here is much different to the western world.

Ascending the mountains, we had a magnificent view for the entire time (note here that you really want to sit on the right hand side of the train as you go up). Eventually another sister joined us, creating a mass tangle of arms and legs and so I decided to spend most of my time standing at the open door looking out across the valleys. As we climbed the vegetation changed from a fairly tropical forest to one dominated by pine and eucalyptus trees, with grassy undergrowth and I felt much like I was travelling outside Perth. After a while, as we got up near 2000 meters in altitude, I felt something that I hadn't felt in nearly a month, cold. The cool air blowing across my face was just wonderful and while there was still plenty of pollution at this altitude, the sky was truly blue above me for the first time in India.

Arriving in Shimla, which is at 2300 meters above sea level and right at sunset, I had a magnificent view of the valleys on both sides of the mountain ridge. Even though Shimla is the capital of the state of Himachal Pradesh, it really is a tourist town, though mostly Indian tourists; I only saw one group of white tourists and they were on a train journey and not really here for the town. Since it is so hilly there are no bikes, and, for some reason, and quite possibly the only place in India, no auto or cycle rickshaws. The government has also banned cars from the streets downtown and so there is a wonderful silence and a complete lack of touts makes it a very nice place to hang out. There are also great tourist information booths run by the government and so I was able to quickly buy my bus ticket to Amritsar the day after next and find a nice hotel for $12 per night. Having a nice dinner (my first proper meal in three days) and a couple of beers while watching the cricket, I turned in early and slept like a baby, the kind of sleep that is only possible when it is cold.

Since Shimla was effectively the capital of India for six months a year for nearly a century, the British erected a number of Victorian style buildings, that now house the post office and various government buildings. The most magnificent of these is the Viceregal lodge, which is located about 4.5 km from downtown and is basically a large, Scottish style castle. It now houses the Indian Institute for Advanced Studies (PhDs in social sciences have deep thoughts about education, race and gender in Indian society), but the grounds and several rooms are open to tourists. The grounds are maintained in immaculate condition and I can see how it would be easy to come up with groundbreaking theories in such beautiful surroundings, if you could stop yourself looking out the window. Inside the entire place is clad in Burmese teak and retains the original furniture. The one thing that has been taken are all the weapons that were mounted on the walls, though the settings remain and it is quite and amusing sight. It was in this building that the partition of India and Pakistan was signed and much work was done in the lead up to Indian independence in 1947.

Walking back into town and managing to avoid the throngs of monkeys, I saw my first Ghandi statue in India (and a golden one at that). Right next to this the bright yellow Christ Church, the second biggest Christian church in India and once the focus of religious worship for the ruling class. It is quite a nice church, with stained glass windows and memorial stones placed for dozens of viceroys and British generals.

In mid afternoon I decided to try and find the main Hindu temple in town, Jakhu, dedicated (aptly enough) to the monkey god and located on the top of the hill behind town and this brings me to my one complaint about Shimla, the complete lack of signs. Nothing is signed. No roads. No sights. Nothing. They give you free maps that show one main road, but it branches about five times. Fortunately enough people, the locals are really good about pointing you in the right direction most of the time. Unfortunately, Jakhu Temple is locate far enough outside of town that there are no locals on the way and there are at least half a dozen turns to take but the maps all show one road. After walking for a good hour and twenty minutes I gave up, but didn't really mind. Almost the whole time I was walking through green forests, with trees dripping moss and ferns. With a complete lack of traffic and the monkeys staying in the trees it was a really peaceful walk and the kind of afternoon that left me refreshed and ready to head out on the next leg of my journey, Amritsar.

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Part of trip: The Big One

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