Friday 27th April – Clarke’s Hotel

A sunny day dawned and we thought we would step out and explore a bit of Shimla. Destination? Viceregal Lodge!

Old Shimla straddles a ridge at about 2200m, and retains many places and buildings from old Raj days. I expected it to be a small hill station town but this was far from the case. Shimla also gives its name to the whole district, as well as the town which is spread between the adjacent hills. The buildings spill down on either side of the ‘old part’ like scattered bricks in the most chaotic manner. Most project out vertiginously atop concrete stilts, overlooking yet more roofs and narrow streets.

‘The Mall’ is a broad area which runs along the ridge over which Shimla drapes itself. It would have been perambulated by ladies and gentlemen of the Raj, strolling along under parasols, or perhaps being drawn by rickshaw. Nowadays it has been pedestrianised, and you can still stroll along and enjoy views from such places as Scandal Point, the alleged scene of a little impropriety! For us that morning, it was a joy to be able to step out of the hotel without fear of glancing blows from drivers or motorcyclists or the loud jabs of ‘tooting’.

We gradually made our way towards Viceregal Lodge –

the summer seat of government for the British Raj. It was exactly like stepping into a piece of Scotland with the building’s greyish stone walls and extravagantly planted wild borders. It was built for Lord Dufferin (1888) and witnessed the discussions for the Partition of India in 1947. Here resided the British Viceroys, who each served for five years at a time, including Lord Mountbatten at the very end. Inside we took a short tour of the reception rooms, which had a cool feel; all lofty ceilings, elegant tables (including the one around which Partition was discussed) and impressive teak panelling. The gardens were lush and full of contained wildness in the planting.

The whole building had a gracious unfussy air so it wasn’t hard to imagine how grand yet comfortable it would have been to be a visitor all those years ago.

Cadging a ride back from our sister hotel, we were deposited lower down the hill at a two stage lift. It is connects different levels of Shimla for pedestrians. The lifts are only small so we had to queue. It almost made your ears pop going up so swiftly!

In the afternoon we took a look at Christchurch which was constructed around 1857.

It was very simple and airy, its faded cream walls contrasting with the mahogany pews and the bright sunlight pouring in from outside. It must have made the British feel at home as well provide some welcome cool.

After strolling along The Ridge, we explored the market streets of Lower Bazaar and the Mall and did a mean deal on some leggings and a curta. I had been on the look out for something less mundane and ‘travelly’ and unexpectedly we found a tiny little shop stuffed with items. The general code is soft leggings for the ladies with a tunic top and diaphanous scarf. The leggings can be in cotton jersey or in the baggy yoga style, worn with sandals and anklets if you wish! I eventually settled on this:

There was also a veritable festival of shawls, stoles and pashminas for sale in one particular little shop I chanced upon; so many beauty full colours and designs, in reds and golds, or the softer taupes and pretty combinations of neutrals, and all carefully worked. There was also a great variety in texture, from a few slippery artificial items to varying grades of wool, silk and delicate pashmina. I felt like stocking up right there and opening a shop, there were so many beautiful things. Eventually I settled on a couple which have been accompanying us all the way round since.

There was anything and everything for sale in Shimla, items almost tumbling forth from the tiny shop fronts.

Near vertical steps reconnected us from Lower Bazaar to the Mall. Shimla wasn’t so built as ‘piled’ over the hillsides.

The streets were as narrow and chaotic as you can imagine.. also battered and labyrinthine.

Everyone seemed to be either selling something or moving it. Enormous weights were borne along by spindle legged ‘coolies’ (porters), doubtless paid a beggarly few rupees, with the stoicism of human mules. We were aghast. I wondered what happened to their backs as the got older…

Going out for dinner in the evening, by way of a change, I proudly donned my new pink curta and biscuit leggings. But it had got cold, so I had to grab my blanky and swathe myself in that to keep warm. We had chosen a restaurant where there was a good Indian band playing, which also had a beautiful view, but to my embarrassment, everyone there was in western dress because it was considered to be so much more cool. “Oh well” I thought.. “that’ll larn ya’!”