Come summer vacation, my memories take me back to 1982 when, as a curious 10-year-old, I made my first sojourn into the Himalayas. June 6 would be the D-Day, so to speak, as my father announced on a sweltering May afternoon, flashing a Himachal Pradesh Tourism-owned hotel’s permit that confirmed our reservation at Manali. Those were the days when there was no internet and hence, no online booking. For the minutes that followed, I was lost in my own thoughts, wondering what a hill station looked like and if it was as beautiful as those in the movies. I was thrilled beyond words, counting down the days every morning until our departure.
We were scheduled to catch the 5.20am Punjab Roadways bus from Jalandhar. On the morning of June 6, we boarded a ramshackle bus, my excitement hitting a high. It was a 14-hour journey with a well-built driver, sporting a flowing beard and a welcoming smile, behind the wheel. This bus was almost a lifeline to that part of Himachal Pradesh; it carried the daily newspapers, and along the way, it was loaded with musk melons and watermelons grown on the sandy riverbanks of the plains. We even picked up a university teacher heading to Kullu to conduct a postgraduate examination.
We finally reached Manali at 7.20pm, and I found myself in a quiet hamlet. A cool breeze blew through the tall Deodar trees, and the distant roar of the Beas added to the magic. I was smitten by its pristine beauty. The place was so peaceful that we could actually hear the sound of our own footsteps on the road as we walked toward our hotel. The next morning revealed the landscape in all its splendour—snow-capped mountains, deeply forested hills, and numerous waterfalls dotting the view. An orchard of apricots and cherries thrived just around the corner, and a quintessential roadside chai wala served hot tea with pakodas. Manali was synonymous with nature’s beauty in its purest form, moving at a pace just a shade slower, allowing us to truly appreciate it.
Fast forward to recent times, when I had the opportunity to visit Manali again. The highway to this popular tourist destination now overflows with traffic, causing kilometre-long jams that are a common occurrence. Gone are the days of Manali being a quiet hamlet in the hills. It has mutated into a bustling small city, complete with big brand outlets and persistent parking woes.
This economic turnaround somehow makes me sad. In our march toward development, we seem to have left behind the very soul of the hills—their innocent charm. Mother Nature’s bounties now compete with concrete structures, and the natural voices of the valley are drowned out by the endless, cacophonous honking of horns. It is time we ponder the paradise we have lost and resolve to resurrect it before it vanishes completely for future generations. gulbaharsidhu@rediffmail.com
The writer is a Jalandhar-based freelance contributor
