The night had played host to thunder, lightning and rain. Morning saw the sun peeping through scattered clouds. Today would be a walk from Jandrighat Palace. We chose to drive one way and walk back the 3 km distance from the palace to the GPO Chowk. Once at the palace, we waited at the gates for the resident chowkidar who we requested for a quick tour.  

Located on the edge of a mountain with a breathtaking view of Dalhousie, the Palace, originally part of the erstwhile state of Chamba, is now an official Government residence and often has local politicos and big-wigs staying there. Despite having managed to get into the grounds due to a partly open gate, the caretakers seemed unhappy at having us outsiders wandering around. A short, sharp shower enabled us to wait in the verandah and take a few pictures and observe the hunting trophies and old pictures on the walls. The other claim to fame that the Palace can make – portions of the movie “1942, A Love Story” was shot here. 

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Post the shower we were quietly but firmly ushered out of the grounds. Not that I was too bothered. The mist and the quiet, deserted road beckoned us. Passing a little tea-shop the world seemed to be ours and ours alone. A mostly level walk (again!) bought us to a little spring called Subhash Ki Baoli.  

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Though now it looks like anything but that. It’s only a pipe jutting out of the hillside, with a trickle of water falling into a cemented pool, while a raised ledge around it is further surrounded by benches on a marble floor. Tourist vehicles congregate at the bottom of the steps leading up to the spring, with their boom boxes thumping out Himesh Reshammiya. And to think, way back in 1937, when Netaji Subhash Bose was in jail and was suspected to be suffering from TB, he was sent by the British to Dalhousie to recuperate. He would take the walk from the main chowk to the spring every single day and return after drinking the water from it.  

I frankly doubt if any one of us would be foolhardy enough to do what he did in this day and age. The place, too, could have been simple and peaceful. Instead, the tacky benches, the dirty looking spring and its water, the muddy floor and the hordes of tourists do nothing to preserve its sanctity. Peace returned as we walked back on and reached the town centre again. Lunch today was at Kwality’s restaurant. The same Kwality’s that we all know about and have grown up with. The wood paneled interiors, old–fashioned fans and the menu draw throngs of visitors and we were no exception. Post lunch, child had to be bribed with his daily video-game fix and a pony ride back to Silverton while I cooled my heels and then huffed and puffed my way back uphill.  

In the evening, I went for a short walk to the “garam sarak” to check out a place called Crag’s. The Cottage at Crag’s where my parents would spend their vacations 50 odd years ago. My parents used to stay in the cottages during their summer vacations. The place is now in a run-down condition but seems popular with foreigners. Of course, it was rather nice to meet and reminisce with the owner about days gone by. On the way back, a short visit to St. Francis’ Church could have been nice but with the swarms of tourists milling around, I beat a hasty retreat.   

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Day Three

This was the long awaited trip to Khajjiar. Do I really need to say anything about its Swizerland-ish appearance here? Be warned that if you are hiring cabs in Dalhousie, you are virtually at the mercy of the local taxi union’s pre-fixed rates. This irritant aside, the drive is through a thickly forested road that twists downhill, and one can get tantalising glimpses of a green carpet far below the mountain. At this moment, the dark rain clouds threatened to spoil our day. It was so dark that it seemed like twilight. Our sharp descent however, enabled us to leave the clouds behind and suddenly the lush, emerald-green carpet of Khajjiar was below our feet.  

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Despite the vastness of the meadow and the dense deodhar forests surrounding it, which gave the place a look straight out of our childhood fairytale books, the place stank of pony droppings and the grassy ground didn’t appear too clean up close. A clutch of eating joints on one side of the meadow, were a little distance away from a little overbridge that led on to a pond in the centre of the saucer-shaped meadow. Up close, the whole place was noisy, smelly and dirty. The Khajji Nag temple after which the place is named lay deserted and was full of flies. Open drains behind and around the buildings and loud mouthed touristy types made us cut short our visit. Abandoning plans for lunch at the Kwality’s branch at Khajjiar, we munched our way through packets of chips and biscuits in the car.  

Now the town of Chamba beckoned. As we traveled further down hill in to the valley of the Ravi river, where the town is located, the hillsides grew browner and rockier. The weather also grew warmer. We drove past a tiny ledge jutting out of the mountain-side, with a forlorn looking Shiva temple. Looking beyond and across the mountains in the distance, albeit now covered by monsoon clouds, was a little gap between the craggy ranges where we were told nestled the mighty Mount Kailash. Never have I wished so much for x-ray vision as I did right then!  

Chamba was a curious mix of the old and the new. Capital of the former princely state, it nestles deep in a valley and is known for its annual Minjar Fair. Today, as flying visitors, we could only take in the Lakshmi Narayan Temple and the State Museum. The approach to the temple was through a maze of narrow alleys and gallies which didn’t smell too good but we persevered up the short climb. Built in the typical pahadi-style (is that a genre?), the main temple building was surrounded by smaller versions of itself, scattered around a stone paved courtyard, each one dedicated to a different deity. The floor was hot enough to burn the soles of our feet, so we stuck to the carpeted pathways created across it.

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On the way out of the temple complex we came across a little shop fully equipped with Sony play-station machines hooked up to large 29 inch flat screen TVs with stereophonic sound effects blaring out of the speakers, offering a full thirty minutes of play time for a princely sum of ten rupees. So while a young man was gainfully employed in using his thumbs and fingers on the gaming console, I wandered off to the State Museum.  

Walking past tiny jewellery shops and kaarkhaanas engaged in creating artifacts and statues covered with gold foil, I resisted the urge to stop and check out things. The Chamba Museum is a comprehensive and impressive documentation of what the state is famous for, and showcases bits of its history. Things to marvel over included intricately carved wooden doors, Chamba rumaals intricately embroidered with incredibly detailed scenes from royal life of yore, costumes, footwear, jewellery and even a metallic coat of armour which may have been a silent witness to many wars.  

Leaving Chamba and the heat behind, we drove parallel to the Ravi river. Our driver proudly pointed the shooting locations of the movies “Taal” and “Gaddar” to us. Having been suitably briefed by our host, we stopped at a relatively safe spot where we could walk down and perch on the rocks and dangle our feet in the cold waters of the river.

Further downstream, the Chamera dam made a breathtaking sight from the road high above.  

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(Ritu Chugh is a Delhi based media and communications professional. She always loved to travel but has lately discovered that writing about her travels is as exciting and enjoyable as the experience itself. She owes a big thank you to her teenage son, Shaashwat, for being a wonderful travel companion and for making her believe that she can climb life’s mountains without losing her breath)

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