Ranikhet Still Station

Ranikhet is a sleepy hill station where even leopards take their own sweet time to move out of your way, says Mahesh Tharani

Ranikhet as seen from Majkhali with a view of the Himalayas in the backdrop

I am lounging around at Ranikhet Club and looking at most of the 300-kilometres of the Himalayas that can be seen from most places in Ranikhet. At 1,829 metres above sea level, I can see the snow on the tips of the Himalayan Mountains. Banderpunch (6,316 metres), Kedar Dome (6,830 metres), the three prongs of Trishul and the five peaks of Panchchuli are gleaming a golden yellow, which gets softer as the sun sets. Gold becomes mellow yellow and I get up, bored. It has been two months since I stepped foot in Ranikhet and these sights don't excite me anymore. It's the transformation of colours once the sun sets behind the mountains and the moon shimmers on the ice-capped peaks, that has caught my eye recently.

I walk from the porch, towards the Billiard Room and spot a new family at the club. In Ranikhet most faces become familiar in a week or two at most. I walk towards the television they are watching. The lady appears bored of the cricket and the children look like they would prefer watching something else.

"Where are you from?" I ask.

"Delhi," the man replies, looking a little startled, as if surprised to see someone else there.

"Have you come to Ranikhet for the first time?" I ask, ignoring his glance.

"No. We come here every year," he replies.

I am flummoxed that they are watching television when the porch offers more entertainment with the sun exhibiting all the shades of yellow, orange and red.

"Are you a local?" asks the man, not taking his eyes off the television set.

"No," I say, "I have been here for two months… living with a friend."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he says.

I rumble a 'splendid' under my breath, wondering if that's the case why’s he watching cricket on television.

"We've come here every year for the past fifteen," he informs.

"How come only people from Delhi visit this town?" I ask expecting him to know the answer.

"Not too many people know about Ranikhet. I think it's best left that way, otherwise we would have another Nainital on our hands," he says.

Bhalu Dam, an artificial dam 3.2 kms from Ranikhet Pic: Akshay Shah

I agree with him. He continues, "The people haven't commercialised the place with shopping areas and the lake is nowhere close to the main town, I guess that's what detracts people from visiting Ranikhet."

I agree to this point as well and get on to trivial issues about the benefits of having only one temple of note situated outside the main area and the town having shops which only offer the bare daily requirements of the locals. Fifteen minutes later I go back out on to the porch and watch the snow capped mountains gleam in the moonlight. A soft blue has descended and as the night grows, the colours change to deeper shades of blue, indigo and violet.

I get back to where I sat previously and Akshay, my host, comes out after his game of billiards with his cousins. On most days Akshay and his cousins are the only people in this relic of a club, built during the times of the British Raj. It still retains its Old World charm with wood panelling skirting the walls and a watering hole which is a favourite with locals and guests. The bartenders do not need to be told what you need after you've ordered your first drink.

A local woman in traditional Kumaoni attire. Pic: Akshay Shah

We have to leave but the show would continue after a short break in which we drive home and have dinner. We approach the 100-year-old house on the winding road lit by the car's headlights. Akshay suddenly slams on the brakes and calls for my attention. He flicks on the headlights to a high beam and my eyes light up to the leopard lounging on the road.

We're ten feet away. The leopard lazily gets on its feet, looks at us and starts walking away from us and towards the house. Akshay eases off the brake and goes towards the big cat, which begins trotting and breaks into a run. It stops, looks back, its eyes shining in the light of the headlight and then canters away graciously. We're stunned and amazed. My mouth is open while Akshay looks more relaxed since he has seen many leopards around his town.

The next morning the routine continues, meeting the same people, talking about the same things and planning the evening. I participate convivially though I know the routine by heart by now. In a place where every second lasts a minute and the only sounds that one can hear are of birds chirping, I am not surprised that the only skyscrapers are tall Australian pines.

Kumaon Regiment Centre (KRC) is the sole active zone in Ranikhet. In its grounds youngsters play sport and the Kumaon Regiment marches. Ranikhet has been the headquarters of KRC ever since Lord Mayo, viceroy of India from 1869-72 was enchanted by this town and planned on shifting the summer capital of India from Shimla to Ranikhet. Unfortunately (or fortunately for Ranikhet) before realising his dream he was killed during a visit to the Andamans. The summer capital stayed put in Shimla but the Kumaon Regiment made the hill station its headquarters.

The view of the clubhouse. Pic: Akshay Shah

Ranikhet basks in its quietude. The noise levels are low and the roads are lined with rhododendron, deodar and elms. There aren't any touts trying to fish money out of your pocket and walking on the road is a regular feature since there are very few cars traversing them. Rappelling and rock climbing is possible everywhere and every walk is a walk through nature.

And so time passes and it is time to leave Ranikhet after meandering for two months in the ravines and mounds around the town. Though I have spent so much of time doing nothing, I still can't define this hill station. It isn't the proverbial run of the mill sort nor is it a ghost town. It doesn't have any specific tourist spots while every spot is a tourist spot. It's possible to see the mountains from wherever you choose to stand. Every season is a tourist season, the summers spellbinding for the colours of the mountains, the monsoons for the colourful wild flowers and the winters for the white blanket of snow. To top it all there are always the black spots of the elusive leopard to spot.