The Magic of McLeod Ganj: A Journey That Stays with You
I’m sure everyone has had that one experience of being on vacation with your whole combined family, pretty much living the dream every day, and making sure that they left no stone unturned in their vacation spot. It’s those kinds of trips that one is sure never to forget. No matter what, every time they reminisce about those days, a thrill is sure to go through them. How do I know this? I speak from experience. In January, I went on such a trip—to a hillside town in northern India called McLeod Ganj. To say it was memorable would be an understatement. I feel everyone deserves one such experience in their lives – and even if you don’t agree with me, you’ll be sure to change your mind by the end of this article. I won’t use all those persuasive techniques on you – don’t worry. I’m almost positive that I can change your mind by simply narrating my experiences in McLeod Ganj.
It all began on what seemed to be a dull Thursday – all of us bumbling with exhilaration, anticipating the setting sun. Our flight to Delhi, the capital city of India, was scheduled for 8 pm – the most adventurous time of all, if you ask me. It’s the time when ideally, we’d all be finishing up dinner, ready to tuck ourselves into bed. But that wasn’t the case at this time on 9th January, at 8 pm – oh no. Instead, we were all scurrying towards our gate as the final boarding call rang out, clutching our suitcases and hand luggage for dear life. Isn’t it marvelous how easily one can go from doing something as normal as eating dinner at this time – to something as berserk as pigging out on airport pizza and guzzling gallons of soda minutes before their flight?
All of us had prepared ourselves fairly well for the journey ahead of us. Of course, my uncle’s birthday celebration didn’t exactly help us preserve our energy, but we were well-rested, nonetheless. Before we knew it, we were checking into the airport, and loading our bags, headphones, and watches into plastic trays for security check. But the funniest part of all? It hadn’t even registered in our minds until we were seated on the unexpectedly luxurious
airplane – that our journey to the inevitable Himalayan Dhauladhar mountain range had quietly begun.
The flight to Delhi was quite uneventful – everyone had their earphones in, eyes glued to the bright screen in front of them. Our group had been momentarily split up – three out of the nine of us had been seated a few rows behind, but regardless, we still heard several peeps from our youngest fellow traveler (our little Cookie) throughout the flight. Despite our initial plans to nap throughout the flight, the wide assortment of free films and music the airplane offered had enticed us to the point where these plans were easily discarded.
After a two-hour long flight to Delhi, without a spot of sleep – needless to say, we were exhausted. But we couldn’t back down, no. Not when we were only four different methods of transport away from our destination! First up – a metro ride from the spotless metro station in the airport, to New Delhi. This went without any sort of hiccup – although me and my partner-in-crime – Saptak – did spot several queer people boarding the train. At this point, the clock had almost struck midnight, so I’d say it wasn’t usual for people to board the warm, clammy metro bundled up in blankets and several woolen hats. On reaching New Delhi, we hurried off the metro, slinging our many bags over our shoulders, and painstakingly dragging the bulging suitcases over the rough pavement. In the dead of the night, shivering in the icy shroud of mist that had covered Delhi by then – we began walking towards the train station, where we would spend the night.
Our Vande Bharat Express, India’s high-speed train connecting major cities, was at 5 am – so naturally, we needed someplace to stay the night. At that moment, it felt straight out of a horror movie – as we trudged through endless corridors in the station quarters, the peeling walls closing in on us. The rooms were nothing more than a creaky, stiff bed frame and a creepy old cupboard in the corner. With our amazing luck – the window in our room was broken and continued to let in gusts of chilly air as we snuggled up as close as we could on the bed. Those couple of hours were by far the coldest weather I’ve ever experienced. In fact, it was freezing to the point my teeth began to chatter, and it actually hurt to wear a single layer of clothing. Despite the discomfort coursing through us, the day’s exhaustion finally seemed to weigh heavy on our shoulders – and we slowly drifted off into a disturbed, but peaceful slumber. The next morning, we were awakened by the sudden blaring whistle of the train, and an announcement for a train to a small hillside station called Amb-Andhaura, nestled near the Himalayas. On realizing that was our cue to board the train, we hurriedly strapped on a couple more layers of clothes – and a puffer jacket – and hurried off with our baggage towards the station. Although we’d gotten a considerable amount of rest, we could not have been more tired. Just then, as we stood on the railway track in a single file line, unable to move through the thick crowd of early morning commuters, we realized that until then, our trip had been exactly as we’d planned. Not a single thing had been out of place; in simple words, everything was going perfectly. Of course, our night accommodation hadn’t been the best, but it seemed to fit into the vibe of the station just right.
As our train arrived, I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be one of ‘those’ trips – one that I would remember for the rest of my life – a marker of comparison that I’d be relating other future trips with forever. Boy, was I right!
The train seemed to arrive at Amb-Andaura station in no time – perhaps it was the fact that I had slept for a lot of the journey, or that once I woke up, I was just having too much fun with my family. Naturally, our wonderful journey to McLeod Ganj by the Vande Bharat Express seemed to whizz by. But we couldn’t possibly be sad about that – we had reached our destination!
The first thing that hit us the minute we stepped foot off the train at our station, was the frosty, wonderful air. It was such an amazing change of pace from the usual, muggy, hot air of Hyderabad, a city in southern India. To say it was refreshing is saying the very least. Alas, we barely had time for a few selfies at the Amb-Andaura station- for our traveler van had arrived and was awaiting us just outside the railway.
Our driver was a really talkative – but also a fairly interesting guy. All throughout the trip he told us fascinating stories about the mountains – about his life as a ‘Pahari’ (someone from the hills) and most importantly he sure was a stickler for music in the car. It would be safe to say that he could not drive a minute in the mountains without blasting old-school Bollywood music. What more could we have wanted?
We traveled tirelessly through the day – stopped a couple of times to take pictures and for snack breaks – but for the majority of the time, we laughed and sang together in the van, having the time of our lives. The view was absolutely breathtaking- especially the formidable Dauladhar mountain range, which seemed to run onwards along with us. We reached McLeod ganj at sundown- so naturally the green mountains around us were bathed
in the soft golden glow of the sun.
Our Air BnB- called the “Horizon Villa” was the amalgamation of all of my favorite horror stories. It was straight out of a Stephen King novel, that was for sure. It rested on a high platform, the French-style double doors and windows glimmering in the evening sun. We occupied the first floor entirely; the inside didn’t match the grim exterior- there were warm golden lights and three wonderfully warm bedrooms. And the best part? All three of our families would snuggle up in front of the cozy fireplace every night after a laborious day of traveling- and share spooky tales from our own lives or books we’ve read.
The outside was quite the contrast. There was a constant chill in the air – and the most interesting thing was the long columns of prayer sheets tied to a string that seemed to run on throughout the hill. I found it fascinating that the most number of prayer sheets were hung only in front of our villa. I couldn’t help but wonder if the reason for this was that our villa was haunted. There really was a high chance of it – the Horizon Villa was the last building on the line. The road descended ominously downwards from there and was covered in the dense shrubbery. There was another house beside ours – but it didn’t look like there were any actual living human beings inside that one. Every morning – we’d awake to the endless croaking of dozens of ravens sitting on the railing of that house.
Honestly, the whole trip was just such a rush of excitement – and wonder, that even though I admired the many places we visited, I will never forget the exhilaration of trekking down that road in front of our hotel, the trepidation – the feeling that anything could come upon me from there downwards. Who wouldn’t want to experience that?
That first night we were too exhausted to make the harrowing climb up the mountainside to the mall road – where all of those fascinating Tibetan restaurants were located, so we decided to stay in and let our talented air BnB owner make us the best, most comforting meal I’d ever had. It may have just been fried rice- but I’d give up all the steak in the world for one taste of that very meal again.
Naturally, all of us had a long, dreamless slumber that night- despite our uncontainable excitement about the day to come. We awoke the next morning, all pumped up for the day ahead of us. Every day after that was pretty much the same. Wake up, and treat ourselves to a scrumptious breakfast of parathas, strap on about fifty layers of clothing- and venture bravely higher up the mountain. We saw countless wonders on our trip- from treks through the mountains to see a wonderful waterfall, to a beautiful cozy cafe snuggled in a crook in the mountains- we saw it all. We visited several monasteries- and even the John Baptist church in the hills. Everywhere the icy mist followed us around, shrouding everything in white. We visited monasteries- each one the epitome of serenity, bells tolling in the distance, ginormous stupas surrounding us- with a majestic central figurine of Buddha in each one.
Every part of the trip was as memorable as the other- but there was one thing that I am sure to never forget in my life. Each night, after a long, chilly day of exploring – we would eat our dinner at a Tibetan cafe on Mall Road. Then, we would make our way through the endlessly curving mountain road to our villa through the dark, in the almost unbearable cold. The temperature would drop down to the negatives every day, and we would bundle on a few extra layers of hats, scarves, and gloves. I am still in awe of little Cookie’s Rudolph the Reindeer
hat (I wanted one too!)
As we’d be walking, at one particular point a group of three beautiful mountain dogs would begin to accompany us. Every day, the same routine. The shaggy black one (whom we named Padfoot) would lead, and the other two would be at the back, like bodyguards. They’d lead us to a winding road and leave us, barking a goodbye. Then, we’d continue towards our hotel. The first night, as we were a few meters away from the villa, our glance fell on the insanely clear sky and the halo around the moon – we just needed to get a picture! We began to yell in joy and mill around happily, trying to get in shot for the picture – when suddenly a hush fell over us as a car’s
headlights cut through the dark.
The man stopped just in front of us and rolled his window down slowly. We stared at him questioningly.
“What are you all doing?”
We exchanged puzzled glances, but the man didn’t give us a chance to respond. He shook his head impatiently.
“You shouldn’t be out this late. This place isn’t safe. There are animals.”
We relaxed a bit, thinking he was talking about the stray dogs, but then the man spoke again.
“The bears do come out at this time, and the bear crossing zone is just ahead. It’s not safe- “We didn’t even give him a chance to finish and drive away, for we were already rushing down the road towards our villa in pin-drop silence, genuinely frightened for our lives for once. I’ll never forget that – it truly felt like we were on an adventure. It was everything I’d hoped for on this trip – absolutely thrilling.
This trip wasn’t just any trip- it was an experience. I know for sure that this is the one thing I’m sure to never forget. Everyone longs for a thrill in their life- a bit of wonder, a bit of excitement. What better way to get that than a daring trip with the people you love most?
–Srinika Mukherjee, a tenth-grade student, is a budding author with two published books and a fervent passion for music.
