Mussoorie. It seems that for all of us, or at least most of us, Mussoorie is a paradise. It is hands down I think one of the most picturesque places I have ever been. When placed into comparison with Banaras, it seems we are on the opposite side of the world.
To begin Mussorrie is cold. It is covered in swirling mist, it is wet, its weather is entirely and totally unpredictable, which is why this place draws me so. At any moment throughout the day one can be caught in a rainstorm that rivals biblical proportions. And while the threat of rain hangs over our head daily, hourly, at any moment the sun can come out to illuminate the valley in the most glorious glow. I think the best way to explain this (I was unfortunately without a camera yesterday) was while walking along the Mall (Mussoorie’s mostly pedestrian thoroughfare) the cold’s parted as the sun began to set and it was as if I were looking a the unfolding of a baroque painting. It seemed as if the valley had become a cauldron as mist and fog and cloud slowly spread and the clouds already stationed in the sky reflected the numinous colors of the setting sun. The sun shot through the clouds in sweeping rays, and everywhere you looked a new composition presented it self—these clouds here are extremely expressive. As golden sun streamed from behind the mountain, the clouds framing a central point, it really looked as if Jesus Christ could at any moment appear. It was wild. And then it rained.
We are staying at the Shiva Continental hotel, which is built into the hillside. We are still doing the requisite 4 hours of Hindi a day, except now Virendra makes a point of forcing us to interact with Hindi speakers, which is great, even though embarrassing. The other day while walkingI stumbled upon Virendraji and Craig holding Hindi practice in a chai shop. I dropped in and thus began our whirlwind adventure back home interacting with local shopkeepers and Mussoorie-ites. Both in broken Hindi spoke to the laundryman, the chaiboy, the phototakingman, the englishwineshopman, the localliquorsellingman, the barber (who I got my first straight razor shave from the next day. AWESOME and my skin is so soft now) thefruitsellingman, etc etc. Each situation that presents itself Virendra thinks up new and fantastic ways to simultaneously embarrass us and teach us Hindi. He is a great teacher, and maybe one of the funniest men I have ever met.
What is amazing about Mussoorie is I immediately feel at home. I feel comfortable and I want to stay here forever. I never thought I would crave the cold weather, but what it really does it makes me cherish things more. Could that sound anymore sentimental? The smells here and the sounds do not accost you instead they complement your memories and form new ones. The place makes me appreciate warmth, and hot tea, and fires, and sweaters, oh and of course puppies, and chocolate, and daffodils, and big hugs from grandma, and kisses from Santa Claus.
But, here you will catch glimpses of life behind glass, with fires and heaters, and warming curries and you really fall in love. Mussoorie is like Europe, like Austria, but way better. It is cheaper. It is filled with Indians. It is filled with Indian food. But hanging about it is a sense of European nostalgia. Also in Mussoorie I can begin to blend in because here there is such intense mixture of cultures: Nepali, Bengali, South India, Tibetan, Chinese, Kashmiri, Afghani, Central Asian. It is an amazing confluence of cultures and it is has taken my heart.
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