A view of Dalhousie and (right) Kynance House. — Photos by the writer

Set up 150 years ago, Dalhousie was conceived as a retreat for convalescing troops. Not much has changed, but how long will this idyllic town remain unspoilt? As the sesquicentennial celebrations get off to a low-key start, A.J. Philip visits the hill station and talks to old-timers

BEFORE I set out for Dalhousie, I did a Google search on the town named after Lord Dalhousie, whose policies precipitated the First War of Independence, and I found to my amazement a huge list of links. There are as many Dalhousies as there are countries.

The search had to be refined by adding "Himachal Pradesh" to reach the desired sites. "Dalhousie is such a common name that I receive e-mails from people all over the world who mistake the location of my school," explains G.S. Dhillon, who runs Dalhousie Public School, whose premises seem to have been given a professional beauty treatment.

The road from Pathankot was so treacherous and difficult to negotiate that I wondered how 150 years ago, Dr Blemenger of the 49th Native Infantry trekked to Dalhousie in search of a site for a sanatorium for convalescing troops. It was a great relief to know that the Border Roads Organisation has taken over the road from the Punjab Government and is repairing it.

The idea of a "convalescent depot" where the climate was "European" was that of Lt. Col. Robert Napier, the then Engineer of Panjab, who turned mutiny-hit Lucknow into a safe haven for the colonial power.

Dr Blemenger chose a spot where the Dayankund ridge breaks into spurs. Later, a committee appointed by the government decided to acquire the five hills of Chamba—Batur, Kathlag, Potreyn, Tehra (Moti Tibba) and Bakrota—for the sanatorium. The government gave sanction to the project in 1854.

In lieu of the land acquired for building Dalhousie, the annual tribute of Rs 12,000 due from Raja Sri Singh of Chamba was reduced to Rs 5,000. Nestling on the spur on the western slopes of the Dhauladhar Range, Dalhousie still retains much of its old-world charm. But for a town celebrating its sesquicentennial, it was disappointment that awaited me. Except for tiny stickers on motor vehicles, there were no visible signs of the celebration. A day after reaching there, I found a few banners coming up in the squares named after Mahatma Gandhi and Subhas Chandra Bose.

For all Dalhousie's glorious history, the Jubilee would simply have been forgotten but for a chance visit to a local school by S. Samuel who runs a Central Government-owned Youth Hostel where he stumbled across an inscription that indicated that Dalhousie would turn 150 in 2004. Brimming over with ideas for the development of Dalhousie, he immediately called a meeting of representatives from all conceivable organisations to chalk out a programme for celebrations. The meeting threw up many ideas from the exotic like linking all the hills and nearby towns by ropeways to the mundane like putting up legible sign boards.

Lack of enthusiasm is not endemic in Dalhousie. "There was great excitement when Nehru came for the Centenary celebrations in 1954" when over 10,000 people turned up to hear him, recalled Chungiram, the attendant of Khyber House, one of the oldest buildings in Dalhousie, who speaks a smattering of English.

He succeeded his father whom the missionaries had employed to look after Khyber House with its sprawling manicured lawns and breathtaking view of the Dhauladhar Range merging into the Pir Panjal and from where on a clear night Lahore is visible.

"I was not even born when poet-laureate Rabindranath Tagore spent a few weeks here. But my father had seen him" says Chungiram. Snowdon, where Tagore stayed, is just a stone's throw from Khyber House.

Shalini Tiwari, who looks after the Sadhu Sundar Singh retreat centre, says some of the descriptions in Gitanjali were inspired by the poet's stay at Snowdon and his wanderings in the lush green area where pine, oak and deodhar trees stand cheek by jowl and where, if you are lucky, you can still spot a wild bear.

Another person who saw Nehru is Sister Therese Marguerite, the last Belgian to preside over Sacred Heart High School, the ultimate destination for the well-heeled on the lookout for "convent-educated, fair-complexioned" brides, which celebrated its centenary in 2001.

For Nehru, it was the second visit to Dalhousie, which he called "the finest and greenest hill station in India". Dalhousie had just overcome the rigours of Partition, when most of the students of Sacred Heart and residents of the hill station migrated to Pakistan. His visit revived hopes that a better future awaited Dalhousie.

"Who says there is no enthusiasm?" retorts Dr J.S.Chandel, who prefers selling Himachali caps after doing a Ph.D in frontier science. He has been moving heaven and earth to develop Subhash Bowli, a spring, whose medicinal properties are believed to have cured Netaji when he stayed in Dalhousie for five months to recoup his health, into a "world-class" tourist spot.

The enthusiasm was visible when I visited Janet Caleb at Mehboob Villa. She was busy putting together paintings, old documents, artefacts and antiques that provide a glimpse into the glorious past of Dalhousie for an exhibition on October 29 and 30. "Please don't describe me as the "last of the Raj," smilingly pleads the British wife of an Indian bishop, who is more Indian than Indians.

A celebrity in her own right, Caleb was in a hurry to leave for a public function. But in the few minutes she could spare, she read out to me the references to Dalhousie in a British Gazetteer and the letter she received from James Dalhousie of Brechin Castle in Scotland, the descendant of Lord Dalhousie, who pleads inability to attend the sesquicentennial.

Once again, enthusiasm is palpable at St. Francis Church, one of the oldest in Dalhousie, where the exhibition will be put up. Fr Ivan, who spends his spare time feeding a few pairs of love birds in his parsonage or thinking of ways to construct a larger tank to harvest rain water, is least bothered that the exhibition will end his privacy for as long as it lasts.

The Capuchin priest is one of the first to turn to rain water harvesting in Dalhousie. There are long periods when the taps go dry and people have to buy water at exorbitant price. "Every hotel spends at least Rs 50,000 a year to purchase water from tankers", estimates Samuel.

Little surprise, the sesquicentennial makes no sense to Dayaram, who runs a tea stall on the Mall. He asks in disdain, "What celebration when there is no assured drinking water supply in the town?"

Rahul Anand, the young Deputy Commissioner of Chamba, reels out the various schemes that have been drawn up to change the face of Dalhousie.

But not everybody wants Dalhousie to grow like Shimla or Darjeeling. For Rehana Sen, who owns Kynance Estate where Netaji and Gandhiji's friend Mira Behn stayed, it is the perfect getaway from the hustle-bustle of Delhi. There are many who would like Dalhousie to remain the quintessential hill station where the British recreated England. They laid out their homes and gardens to resemble the manor, the cottage and the arch symbol of the Mother Country, the English garden.

But how long can it remain the idyllic hill station? Even Sen was busy supervising modifications in her house. Despite so much pressure to go "native", it is wondrous that Dalhousie has retained much of its pristine form. But then who doesn't know that it is a losing battle for Dalhousie?

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