a self-guided walk through shimla, the british raj’s summer capital

1864. The British Crown was now directly in control of the Indian subcontinent. Five years had passed since they had squashed the Indian Mutiny. It had been a tough fight lasting nearly two years and two months, but they’d won in the end.

Summers in their new capital, Calcutta, were, however, brutal. Oh, how they longed for the grey overcast days back home, bathed in gentle drizzle.

Since the 1820s, the earlier British East India Company officers stationed in India had been escaping from the sun-baked plains to a hamlet in the middle hills of the Himalayas during such summers. The hamlet, comprising some 50 houses, was called Shayamala after a local Hindu goddess.

India’s new rulers decided to make this association more permanent. They renamed the hamlet ‘Shimla,’ and set up the British Raj’s ‘Summer Capital’ on its seven hills.

Every year, just before the sweltering heat clamped down on the Gangetic plains, the entire administrative machinery would move here, replete with traders, restaurateurs, and socialites. Once the heat cooled down, and snow started to peck its slopes, they would all move back again south-eastwards.

A mini-Britain was created in Shimla’s hills. Timber-strapped Tudor houses, soaring neo-Gothic churches, grand town halls, and a theatre for concerts and plays. On the Ridge, which offered rather splendid views, a bandstand was thrown in where military bands could play music and the gentry could indulge in leisurely strolls. Not too shabby now, perhaps they whispered to each other in relief.

Though it is now 77 years since the British have left, their summer capital’s remnants still dot Shimla, and more so on its main commercial pedestrian artery—Mall Road.

Here is a self-guided walk on what to watch out for should you ever be in the vicinity, with suggestions for eating and staying dating back to the colonial days. Take your time and savour its charms. After all, Shimla was always for the long haul. ❤

PS. Take the lift up to Mall Road, and on exiting the lift turn left towards Christ Church.

Continue reading

exploring sri lanka’s coastal towns: from galle to trincomalee

Indian Ocean from the Galle Fort ramparts just after sunset.

Indian Ocean from the Galle Fort ramparts just after sunset.

For a country whose length and width are merely 435 kilometres and 240 kilometres respectively, Sri Lanka, the tear-drop-shaped Buddhist island in the Indian Ocean has a remarkable variety of coastal towns.

Starting at windswept Galle with its Dutch colonial vibes in the south-west, next in line is the cosmopolitan financial capital Colombo. Then on to Negombo, the sunny Catholic fishing town in the west, to Jaffna in the north which till recently was completely out of bounds to all and sundry. And finally, Trincomalee in the north-east steeped in ancient Tamil culture against the backdrop of surf-worthy waves.

Come along and explore with me Sri Lanka’s five coastal gems, their unique heritages, and what not to miss. ❤

Table of Contents:

Continue reading

the road less travelled: delft island

Forty kilometres off the northern coast of Sri Lanka, is its farthest island—Delft.

It is an unusual name to come across for a tropical island in the Indian Ocean. After all, there is not much in common between the bleached island and the picture postcard region in Netherlands where white glazed pottery with blue decorations have been historically made. The 18th Century Dutch colonial rulers obviously felt differently; for them it was a perfect fit for their new home. Perhaps a gentle reminder of their roots in faraway lands.

Remote and sparsely populated, Delft is the largest island in the Palk Strait which separates Sri Lanka from the Indian subcontinent. Eight kilometres wide and 5.5 kilometres long, it is not just its name which is out of the ordinary. Delft Island used to be a coral reef in the distant past as revealed by the petrified coral chunks strewn on its emerald green beaches. Sans any streams, potable water is limited to catchment areas for surface water and a few pockets of ground water.

Despite these challenges, 1,300 Tamil Christian and Hindu families call the island their home today; their houses clustered around compounds in the north. Empty, windswept scrublands meanwhile stretch out in the south, right up to the rugged charred coastline. Continue reading