Shimla | Himachal Pradesh

I continue From here: A Democracy in a Designated Enclosure

1 July 2026

After a disturbed night's sleep—with the driver switching on the lights every now and then, and the bus making several stops for food and toilet breaks—we reached Shimla at around 5:30 a.m. The town was still asleep. As soon as we got off at the bus stand, we noticed a local bus ready to take passengers to the town centre. It turned out to be a blessing, costing us just ₹13 instead of an expensive taxi ride.

From the old bus stand, where we were dropped, we walked about a kilometre to our hostel. Since it was fully booked, we had to wait until 1 p.m. to check in. The staff, however, kindly allowed us to leave our bags and freshen up in the common washrooms.

I was a bit disappointed by the view from our hostel. It revealed just how drastically the city had expanded and how relentlessly we continue to exploit nature. The seemingly endless array of houses and buildings was a stark reminder of humanity's unchecked growth—an act that ultimately invites devastating consequences upon itself.

After freshening up, I set out in search of my morning tea—a quest I find myself undertaking in every new place I visit. It has become more of an adventure than a necessity. Surprisingly, Shimla wakes up rather late. There was no sign of a chai ki tapri anywhere. Eventually, I found a small tea stall near the mandi (market).

Jeeps loaded with vegetables from Chandigarh and the plains had just arrived, and labourers were busy unloading them. The owner of the tea stall told me that he opens his shop at around 1 a.m., when the jeeps begin arriving. The tea wasn't particularly memorable, but it was certainly better than nothing. I sat there watching the labourers at work and listening to fragments of their conversations.

Most transactions were happening in cash, a reminder that India's push towards digital payments does not necessarily benefit everyone equally. For daily wage labourers and small traders, cash remains immediate, practical, and essential.

Back at the hostel, Divyesh and I played a few rounds of Encore in the reception area. By then, Harry and Puneeth—two trekkers I had connected with through the trek WhatsApp group—had arrived. Harry had booked the same hostel after discussing our trekking plans with us. We met them at the restaurant on the second floor.

Harry is originally from Punjab but is now settled in the UK and has become a British citizen. His mother and brother still live in Delhi. Puneeth, his friend, had an excellent sense of humour. The four of us bonded almost instantly. As we shared breakfast, conversations flowed effortlessly and jokes began flying across the table. It felt as though we had known each other for years. Such easy familiarity between strangers is rare.

At 1 p.m., we were finally allotted our dormitory beds. After settling in, I walked to Mall Road, to try the Himachali thali at Himalayan Rasoi. Puneeth joined me.

The Mandyali Dham thali was exceptional. It consisted of Madra (yoghurt-based chickpeas), Sepu Badi (lentil dumplings in spinach gravy), Kaddu Khatta (sweet and sour pumpkin), Kadhi, Mah Dal (black lentils), and a pumpkin-and-dry-fruit dessert.

The spicy buttermilk, called Rehru, was particularly refreshing. The only drawback was that the food was noticeably salty. Looking back, I sometimes wonder whether it contributed to the rise in my blood pressure during the trek.

After lunch, we returned to the hostel for some rest. In the evening, we headed back to Mall Road, walked along the Ridge, visited the Town Hall, and browsed through the book festival taking place there. We also returned to Himalayan Rasoi to try Siddu, both the sweet and savoury versions. Personally, I wasn't particularly fond of it.

After watching the sunset from the Ridge, we made our way back to the hostel and called it a day.

2 July 2026

I woke up around 6 a.m. the following morning and stepped out for tea. Puneeth joined me, and together we returned to the mandi. Much like the previous morning, we stood watching the organised chaos unfold as vegetables were being unloaded.

There was something strangely moving about the routine. The monotony of everyday life—how deeply I have disliked it, and how hard I struggled to escape it. Watching those scenes reminded me of my own midlife crisis and the long, difficult journey towards becoming the person I wanted to be.

Could I ever fully express the hardships I endured simply to live life on my own terms? I often narrate that journey as though it were a pleasant fairy tale. Perhaps I shouldn't. Doing so would diminish the sacrifices and perseverance that made it possible.

We then walked to the Ridge, where locals were out jogging or enjoying their morning walks. On our way back, I freshened up and had breakfast at Justbaked by Tripti. Their sandwiches and walnut pies are absolutely to die for.

Later that morning, we met Prama and Neel, who had arrived to join the same trek. Prama struck me as an exceptionally warm and genuine person. Her openness was evident in the way she interacted with everyone without prejudice. Neel, on the other hand, initially appeared reserved. He spoke only when necessary and otherwise remained quietly observant, often with a smile that could easily be mistaken for a smirk. As I got to know him better through the day, I realised he was simply thoughtful and introspective. It took me quite some time to realise that the two of them were a newly married couple.

Together, we decided to hike up to the Jakhu Hanuman Temple. The climb was steep and served as good practice for the trek ahead. The hill was full of monkeys. One of them snatched Prama's spectacles and only returned them after a nearby shopkeeper bribed it with roasted Bengal gram.

After visiting the temple, Harry, Puneeth and I stopped at a café near the summit called Café Under the Tree. Nestled among tall pine trees, it felt almost like a treehouse. I ordered a cup of sea buckthorn tea, which turned out to be excellent.

Back in town, we had lunch at another restaurant serving Himachali cuisine. We tried yet another Himachali thali, and once again the food was excellent. 

The food was unlimited, and the server remarked that we probably wouldn't ask for extra anyway as the food is extremely rich. In response, Harry ordered another round of some of the curries. To finish all the curries, I had to eat more rice than I wanted. The next day, while suffering from a severe stomach upset, Harry confessed that he had ordered the extra curries simply because of the server's comment. I found that reaction rather immature.

After the satisfying meal, we walked towards the old castle, only to find it closed.

Harry then began what turned into an extensive shopping expedition at a pharmacy. The shopkeeper enthusiastically recommended every conceivable item one might need for a trek, and Harry seemed happy to buy them all. Puneeth and I teased him about his growing collection of supplies. Harry simply smiled and continued shopping.

He struck me as someone who liked to be thoroughly prepared before undertaking anything. Being underprepared would probably give him sleepless nights. I used to be somewhat similar. However, years of solo backpacking and gradually embracing minimalism have changed my outlook considerably.

After the pharmacy, we stopped at my favourite café in Shimla—Honey Hut. Sitting outside with cups of coffee, we watched the endless stream of people passing along Mall Road.

Later that evening, we returned to the hostel and spent some time talking on the terrace.

While we were there, I received a call from my cousin Prashanth. He informed me that another cousin, Aneesh, had fallen seriously ill. The exact diagnosis was still unclear, but there appeared to be a severe liver infection. Prashanth asked whether I could accompany him on a visit to the hospital, but I was hundreds of kilometres away. Feeling helpless, I called my sister in Mysore and informed her of the situation.

Back in the dormitory, Prama and Neel were there as well. We chatted for a while before I decided to turn in early. The trek would begin the following day.

To Be Continued...