Driving cross-country is always such a stimulating experience because of the glimpse that you get of the real India, Incredible India! For me, the drive from Delhi to Almora, in the young state of Uttarakhand, is a veritable process of discovery. Wide-eyed, I take in all the sights, much like a rustic does when she visits Mumbai. Passing through one town after another, this part of the map comes alive like no geography book can – Noida (in UP, but very much wannabe Delhi), Ghaziabad (typically UP), Hapur (one of the largest granaries of the country), Moradabad (represented in Parliament by former cricket captain, Mohammad Azharuddin, the town is well-known for its brassware), Garh Mukteshwar, the River Ganga, Rampur (think knives!), dark green mango orchards, village boys splashing around in a tree-shaded stream at Bilaspur, Rudrapur (Sikh refugees have done so well here that the town has been renamed Uddham Singh Nagar), Pantnagar (its large industrial estate boasts of a Nano factory and it has its own airport), the thick forests of Corbett land, the twin towns of Haldwani (where the first train arrived from Lucknow in 1884) and Kathgodam (should be given the cleanest railway station award)...!

We stop for an aloo paratha and egg bhurji breakfast at Tadka restaurant in Gajraula. It has a large parking lot and clean toilets. A little later, we halt to buy crisp, light green guavas, flecked with red. The young boy selling them ensures that we don’t have high blood pressure before smearing the pieces with salt! All the youngsters on this stretch look bright and intelligent whether they are hawking fruit, weed chairs, laundry boxes and muras or waiting cheerfully at tables in dhaabas. Most of them in the Moradabad district are enterprising Muslim boys and I wonder why politicians are so stupid to take away their sense of achievement by offering them minority quotas.

Is it the nip in the air or the sheer excitement of a holiday that makes us stop again for a hearty lunch at Atithi, in Haldwani? Hot rotis, aalu gobi, peeli daal and a cool pudina raita are polished off in no time.

Call of the mountains
When we reach Kathgodam, named so because it was a timber depot in British times, we know we are at the foothills of Kumaon. As the mountains rise before us, the road begins its winding route to the heights, passing by lakes and quaint villages dotted with pretty pista green, strawberry pink and vanilla-coloured houses. One of these cottages, perched in solitary beauty on one of the peaks, I am told, is what appeared as Rekha and Hrithik Roshan’s house in Krrish: quite appropriate that, as Hrithik is a child of nature in the film. Statues of Hanuman and temple spires rise from amongst the pine and deodhar trees, while Abhishek Bachchan and IDEA compete with Shakti Bhog Aata for billboard space.

After circling several ranges, ablaze with scarlet, magenta, mauve, yellow and white flowers, and populated with mischievous monkeys, we enter the town of Almora. To those used to the glamour of Mussoorie, Shimla or neighbouring Nainital, Almora might appear as a poor country cousin – but you soon realise that this is its intrinsic charm. Older than these hill stations, unlike them, Almora was not built by the British. It was established in 1563 by a Hindu king, Balo Kalyan Chand, and the British took it over only in 1815. Because Almora is not too hot on the tourist map, it has escaped the marauding mobs and retained much of its original character.

We leave the market area of the town behind and proceed on the Almora- Binsar Road to Kaparkhan, where a friend has built a charming pinewood cottage. Surrounded by pine and oak trees, the cottage overlooks a valley beyond which stand other Himalayan peaks, like sturdy sentinels guarding our borders. There is a smoky haze in the evening so the peaks are not too distinct. But we wake up in the morning to a clear blue sky and a magnificent view of the snow-capped Nandadevi, Nandakot and Trishul mountains. As the sun rises and bathes the slopes with a bright glow it is not just the villages on the slopes that come alive. All of nature bursts forth with life. The trees glitter in different shades of green while the birds nestling in them begin to chirp. The chirping soon becomes a loud crescendo with two of the birds sounding distinctly like they are in battle mode. Later, I am told their cacophony is the avian version of saas-bahu dramas. Local folklore says that what the birds are raucously crying is juju bol, while my Bengali aunt gives me the Bengali version. According to her, when one bird (the saas) says ‘Bou kotha kau’ (daughter-in-law speak), the bou retaliates with ‘bou katki’. This noisy exchange continues for several hours!

Entertained with this early morning activity, I too, am activated to go back to Almora town to explore its Mall Road. At first, it looks rather shabby, but I gradually realise that its unpretentious appearance is misleading because it has quite a few gems tucked away in its crumpled folds. For instance, the modest-looking mithai shops that sell the town’s famed baal mithai – delicious, dark brown milk fudge, decorated with tiny white sugar balls. The mithai, I think is named after Baal Jageshwar (or baby Shiva), of whom there is a temple dating back to the 12th century. Legend has it that to save the women, who were attracted to him, from their husbands’ jealous wrath, Shiva cannily converted himself into a child.

Even as I am mulling over the deceptive games of our Gods, I find, quite by serendipity, an outlet for shawls where I get a black Merino with a delicate rust and orange border. Appearances, clearly, are misleading in this town.

But there is one building whose external character matches what is inside. Almora Kitab Ghar is a smart, contemporary structure in orange, yellow and white. It has stone-clad pillars and a stylish glass front through which you catch sight of a treasure house of books. Almora Kitab Ghar has literature in both English and Hindi. It is the latter that is especially attractive – from Premchand, Ismat Chugtai and Saadat Hasan Manto to Shivani and Qurrat-ul-Ain Haider, you name it and the shop has it. It is difficult deciding what not to buy. To add to your dilemma are the translated classics from Bengali, Tamil and several other languages into Hindi. The shop’s owner, Jaimitra Singh Bisht, is a photographer-mountaineer and son of a senior journalist. He pulls out the books for me while I fumble over the names and I end up spending the better part of the afternoon here, completely mesmerised....

Presence of the past
Kitab Ghar reflects Almora’s rich literary heritage – Manohar Shyam Joshi, who became well-known even in non-literary circles for his TV serials Buniyad and Hum Log, is from Almora. Mrinal Pandey, daughter of Shivani, and a senior journalist and writer in her own right, is a daughter-in-law of Almora. Adman, lyricist and poet Prasoon Joshi spent his early years in this unassuming town. Rabindranath Tagore came here to overcome the grief of losing a child...the list is long.

Walking out of Kitab Ghar, feeling thrilled with my large bag of books, I indulge myself further with a glass of cold lassi, thick, creamy stuff that you have to spoon out. And then, I come upon a post office, dating back to 1905. Unable to resist, I go down a steep flight of steps to buy stamps for a birthday card that has been in my bag from Mumbai! The original, gable-roofed structure has withstood the ravages of time, and you feel transported to an era when it must have played a very crucial role in keeping the citizens of this remote town connected with the rest of India. Today, of course, cell phones have taken over and it is not uncommon to hear a phone beeping from within the gathers of a voluminous ghagra and to see its gnarled, rustic wearer speak confidently to, perhaps, her son who has migrated to a bigger city.

Preserving its heritage, even as growing needs cause new structures to be built, appears to be a priority in this ancient hill-station. The following afternoon, I spend time in a centre for education. A vibrant, stone and wood edifice, more than 100 years old, impeccably maintained, houses the office of its director, Padma Shri Dr Lalit Pandey, while a modern, aesthetically-designed, cream –coloured building, on its left, has rooms for visiting teachers from across Uttarakhand.

The involvement of Almora’s eminent citizens in the activities of the town and their drawing together of lesser-known inhabitants in progressive movements has ensured the development of Almora in a healthy manner. Education, with an emphasis on environment studies, is a priority here. Balwadis and anganwadis, where local women are employed as teachers and helpers, provide pre-primary education to bright-eyed, enthusiastic children as well as serve as centres for community-based activities.

The abode of artistes and gurus
The Uttarakhand Seva Nidhi Paryavaran Shikshan Sansthan is a significant organisation of Almora, working at creating a social movement to improve education, health, socio-economic and environment relations in the hills. Amongst other initiatives, the USNPSS focuses on women’s issues at meetings where reproductive health, nutrition, education and self development are emphasised. Balwadi shikshikas are trained to be community organisers. The results are evident. In a farmer’s home, that I visit, I find all the children doing very well for themselves. The daughter has moved to another town where she is a senior teacher. One of her brothers is in the army, another works for a private airline and the third has just graduated in Science and hopes to join the Indian Navy. The daughter-in-law of the house works in the local balwadi.

Down the years Almora has always been a rather evolved town, attracting intellectuals, spiritual gurus and artistes from various fields. Not surprising then, that RK Pachauri’s recently-released fiction, about self-discovery, is titled Back to Almora. But long before him, a century ago, Swami Vivekananda found the ambience here congenial for meditation and peace and inspired countless followers with his talks on these subjects. In later years, Uday Shankar set up a dance academy that had students like Zohra Sehgal and Guru Dutt on its roster. With the founder member of the Communist Party of India, PC Joshi hailing from Almora, the party’s theatre wing, IPTA also had a presence here with Balraj Sahni building a centre for artistes. A research laboratory, doing studies on sustainable agricultural technology and more, named after Vivekanand, was re-located here from Kolkata. Arun Singh, part of Rajiv Gandhi’s inner coterie, retired to Almora to get away from the quagmire of politics. Adding to its roster of eminent names was Jawaharlal Nehru who spent a jail term in its salubrious climes – could any prisoner have asked for a better place to be incarcerated in?

Not as fortunate as Nehru, all too soon, we find ourselves heading back for the plains, stopping at the same places, in reverse order, trying to savour every moment of the journey to its maximum, and making an additional stop to buy a jar of pure apricot jam and a large bottle of healthy amla juice.

Back in the concrete blocks of Mumbai, far away from the clean, bracing air of the Himalayas, one enduring image stays with me – of a woman, in a colourful sari, balancing a stack of firewood on her head, and walking the pine-shaded paths with greater ease and poise than any beauty contestant strutting the ramp.

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