It was with much sadness that we had to leave this beautiful hill station. I can see why the colonial British loved it so much. They loved the heavenly climate, scented pines, rhododendron forests, green pastures and snow-capped peaks. They dotted it with grand buildings and beautiful mansions. Come summer and the entire government officers, staff, files and cabinets would troop there. It became the summer Hill Station capital of British India.
We thought this elderly gentleman looked so good, there was a sort of pride about him, he looked as if he had seen better days, and now he probably had all his worldly goods in that bag. We felt a bit guilty about sneaking the photo from the carriage.
The return journey was much better, we didn’t have to leave so early and it didn’t seem to take so long. I also covered my mouth and nose when going through the tunnels.
Bronze statue of Mahatma Gandhi
A few yards from Claridges is the house where Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated. Despite the horror of that it is now a lovely tranquil place. It has an excellent state of the art museum which details and propagates the life, work and philosophy of Gandhi, through photographs, artworks, memorabilia, film screenings and seminars. The library contains thousands of books and letters. There are also hundreds of wall and ceiling images depicting Gandhi’s life.
Back in Delhi