Destination Mussoorie

Mussorie by Ganesh Saili

‘Who goes to the hills comes to his mother!’

Not till they were at least a mile up in the sky did the British colonials feel fully refreshed. Finally, the scorching sun and the choking dust of summer was behind them as the breeze soughing through the pines brought back a flood of nostalgia – it was just like home.

The hill station of Mussorie came into being around the 1830s. What began as a small settlement grew into a large hill station. Mussorie was not named after a place in England. The British were content to follow the name given by the hill-folk. Growing in abundance was the Mansur shrub (Coriana nepalensis). You can still see the hardy bushes growing in places where few plants would dare to take a foothold.

Take our house, for instance. It is simply called ‘Trim Lodge’ (with Trim cottage and Trim Ville just below us in quick succession on the same spur). A house in Mussoorie Try as hard as I would, there was no trace of Mr. Trim. Could he have been a friend of Colonel Young, the founder of Mussorie, who came from the Irish county of Trim? From the record room I could only establish that the last European owner was a certain E. A. Cockburn, who left the property to his sister by a will executed in her favour. She passed away soon after the property developed to the Custodian General, who put it on the block.

All over the hills, those hardy pioneers built houses with whatever could be found locally. The lime-kilns of Khattapani produced all the lime and mortar from which the old buildings were built. The rhododendron trees, now lost forever, were used for beans and rafters.

Hotel Mullingar - snow clad Above Trim Lodge, on a flat top ridge is Mullingar – the oldest building in town – its ruinous look buttressing the claim. It was a shooting lodge built by a youthful Captain Young, who lived in Dehradun, raising the Gurkha Batallion after the battle of Nalapani. He spoke fluent Gurkhali and was a hit with his troops. And what is ‘Mullingar’? It’s the name of the town he came from and returned to in his old age, as General Young.

Undeniable nostalgia must have dogged the footsteps of those early visitors as you still find houses with Scottish names – Glenbrook, Gorgehead, Scottsburn and Redburn. The hill–stations were great places for clubs, fancy fairs and dances. Here under the eaves lonely bachelors met grass-widows whose husbands had better things to do in the plains like propping up the affairs of state. Himalaya Club was one such place, established in 1841 with a membership of one hundred and forty-eight.

A cathedral Excellent samples of colonial architecture are the early churches in the hill-station, built for the spiritual needs of those pioneers. What takes one’s breath away is the sheer brilliance of the stained-glass windows. They are living testimony of the days when innocence was a virtue and the Sandman had to wait for another day.