The Lazy Cherub Enigma: Shimmy up the Mountain to Shimla

September 18, 2015

One thing about being in the mountains of India is the complete lack of Internet access. Cell phones abound but Internet is almost non-existent. I mention this because the experience has had me rethink the concept of connectedness. What happens when you cannot hear from home on a daily basis? What happens when the news of the world is limited to what a local paper decides to print? Who do you become when your tethers are no longer there and now you must drift with uncertainty and resign yourself to just trust in the moment?

Shimla seems as good a place as any to ponder this new way of being. At 2200 meters, this engaging little hill town is strung out along a 12 km ridge of terraced walkways and colonial splendor. No cars are allowed in the main part of town so it is an “ambler’s paradise.” Like many mountain towns, it appears stuck in time. Photographs of the streets and the Scandal Point promenade show little if anything has changed other than the number of people out for an evening stroll. Shimla itself was a sleepy forest glade until a Scottish Civil servant – Charles Kennedy – built a summer home here in 1822. After that, things were never the same again. For starters, Kennedy’s summer home is more like a Scottish Palace – a breathtaking hybrid of Hogwarts and the Tower of London. Surrounded by immaculate gardens, the “Viceregal Lodge” has been the focal point of Indian politics and diplomacy since 1888. It was also clearly meant for summer pleasures of all kinds with tennis courts, secret rooms and halls that whisper who tucked away with who late in the evening after a summer dinner party when Nehru and Mountbatten were in town.

“The center of the empire! A place of philandering and frivolity. A home for the cad, the card, the fortune hunter and the flirt.” Scandal Point got its name for the Sunday procession of women and officers who would walk up and down the tree lined streets stealing glances and breaking hearts. Curzon, Kitchener and Kipling would return again and again to the Shimla and Kipling used the town as his backdrop for “Kim” and “Plain Tales from the Hills.” By the turn of the century, Shimla had become the official summer residence of the Indian Government – a magical mountain wonderland that gave respite from the unrelenting heat. Today, the Viceregal Lodge is the home of the Indian Institute of Advance Studies. Anyone who has held a PhD in sociology, Fine Arts, History or Political Science for 5 yrs. or more can apply to stay at the grand Viceroy Lodge – expenses paid! – and devote the next 3 - 6months to study and writing. The library alone is enough to sell me on the idea of an academic retreat!

All of this pales in comparison to joys of walking the winding pedestrian streets of Shimla. It is a maze of alleyways that you think you could get lost forever in but somehow always end up exactly where you need to be. Places like the Indian Coffee House – an establishment that has remained exactly as it was when it opened 60 years ago. Prices and clientele most definitely are holdovers! Here you drink coffee with regal old men served to you by waiters wearing pristine white uniforms. It all sounds rather pretentious but it’s not. This is a thoroughly local establishment well used and well worn. You sit on chairs worn thin from countless contemplations. Above you spins a tired ceiling fan who’s glory days have long since past. It gyrates slowly and only enough to ensure it is not replaced. The air remains unperturbed by its presence and you become aware that in the heat of the day, it is cooler outside in the sun than it is inside. None of this matters. The comfort comes less from a cool breeze and more from the ambiance. Old men laugh and chatter. Waiters scurry about with trays of coffee in old silver pots. As quick as you use a napkin or a sugar bowl it is whisked away to another table for someone else to use. Nothing about this place would have it pass muster in a hygiene inspection, which is why, in my opinion, it also has the best coffee I have ever tasted. Made the old fashioned way before we cleaned it up and dressed it in impressionable logos.

After many cups of coffee drunk with a healthy dose of nostalgia, it is time to wander into Maria Brothers Antiquarian Book Store. As India’s oldest bookseller it is a bibliophile’s dream and remains as cramped and enticing as it did when Kipling scoured the shelves for Himalayan maps and hand painted Kama Sutras. Serious collectors need only apply – this isn’t a second hand bookstore but a literary museum. A one-stop shop for that original travel log penned by Kitchener or maps hand drawn by Indian Gurkas discovering Tibet for the first time.

Day turns to night. The streets become bereft of humans and give way to hundreds of fat mongrel dogs and mischievous monkeys. The cacophony between the two tells you that a sound sleep is not in the cards at Shimla. Occasionally you drift into a stupor and dream of Hanuman debating the origins of the universe to a canine tribunal. It is enough to keep you sufficiently tethered to the moment and hoping that the moment never ends. Everything is as it should be.

Internet be damned!