Himachal > Hill Stations > Manali

Manali For many people, Manali equates to marijuana. In the 70’s and 80’s, it was the hotbed of hippidom. Now, of course, it is so many other things.

Let me confess something. I have never been to Manali. But, and here comes the catch, I can tell you all about it. Because, I am an oddity in Delhi as far as Manali goes. Every one, almost everyone, I know has been to this picturesque, concrete, dopey, honeymoonish, family-ish hilltown for a holiday. And everyone has a different tale to tell. A young girl I know went with a bunch of her friends and they did find good marijuana as the gods promised. A young couple I know went, not quite for a honeymoon, but somewhat that, and came back complaining of the crowds. A marwari businessman I know went with his family and they ‘did everything’, even rafting (wearing saris). A river rafter I know made several thousand dollars when he took a group of foreigners on a trek. An Australian heli skier I know lived there for several years and took the likes of ABBA and European royalty on his ‘copters and down the slopes. His wife goes into fits describing the honeymooners posing for pictures. And there is this wishy-washy image of Israelis living here permanently, as Germans – having psychedelic experiences deep in the woods. They are something of a community. And no, outsiders are not welcome. (Are we reminded of Leo Di Caprio in Beach?)

What everybody agrees on is that Manali is incredibly pretty. No matter the ugly concrete structures, no matter the blaring horns and car music in alternate doses, no matter the video parlours. The mountains are so close, the meadows are so green, the orchards so laden, the valley so spread out – you are a little stumped. Unlike other ‘hillstations’, Manali is not colonial. It does not have the crumbling charm of Shimla or Mussoorie; it stands for itself. Very close to Rohtang Pass and Solang Nala, ideal for paragliding, perfect for river running – and the river gives it an extra dimension, the Beas is an angry, gushing river, the kind that may have caused nature worship. Oh, and Manali is where you station yourself before treks, skiing and safaris in the region.

Manali is overdeveloped and overcrowded, there are hundreds of hotels and guesthouses, from the very cheap to the very expensive, but it is still quaint, still characteristic, and still attractive. There are Israeli restaurants, German bakeries, Tibetan momos, pashmina shawls and, but of course, this is where the Manali to Leh experience begins.

Incidentally, don’t forget to buy some of the locally made pickles, jams and juices – I have tried them. ‘Yum’ is the word.

Dalhousie
Not many people go to Dalhousie. And that’s just what is so disarming about it: in many ways. For one, this little ‘hillstation’ that was always a stepsister to Shimla, has not had the kind of crass commercialism some of the better known hillstations of India have had. There aren’t so many video parlours, or ice-cream shops, or flashy cars, and not so many people. The forests are still dense, and the British houses have been left much as they were. Spending a few days in Dalhousie can be quite relaxing.

Old Punjabi families still have their ‘summer homes’ in Dalhousie and it is their descendants who often take their friends over for a ‘break’. Most of these homes are built in the old colonial style and are extremely charming. Of course, there is a certain flow of plains people, and then there are those who wish to trek in the Chamba region and find their way from Dalhousie.

Interestingly, the two main roads in the town are known as Garam Sarak (Hot Road) and Thandi Sarak (Cold Road), simply because one receives a lot of sunshine and the other does not. Another fact of life at Dalhousie is its large migrant Tibetan population – who add their own colours and ways to the place. The chain hotels have not come to Dalhousie and the options to stay are not as elaborate.

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