Sunday Mirror (Northern Ireland)
The rail India
All aboard for the Toy Train to Shimla, the British Raj’s stunning hill station home
Seizing the moment, I quickly clambered down from the train, eager to stretch my legs.
We were scheduled to stop for 10 minutes at Barog Station but somehow those minutes flew by.
Suddenly there were urgent shouts of “Run! Run!” and I found myself stretching my legs rather more than I had planned!
Panic-stricken I hurtled along the platform, watching the train pulling tantalisingly away.
So with one desperate leap followed by a huge sigh of relief, I scrambled inelegantly back on board the Himalayan Queen, as it continued its
journey to Shimla, capital of the north Indian state of Himachal Pradesh. It had been just over two hours since the Toy Train, as it’s fondly known for its tiny, brightly-coloured carriages, had left the town of Kalka, in the foothills of the Himalayas, heading for the country’s most famous hill station. Back in the UK, I’d never dream of jumping on a moving train but the Himalayan Queen averages sedate speeds of 11mph on a narrow gauge track just 2ft 6ins wide.
No wonder the Kalka-Shimla line was hailed a feat of British engineering when it was opened in 1903.
And this year the Toy Train is puffing with pride as it celebrates 10 years since gaining acclaimed UNESCO status.
I had plenty of time on my hands to appreciate this astonishing line as it would be at least another three hours before we would arrive at our final destination, passing through some 100 tunnels, 800-plus bridges and viaducts, and negotiating more than 900 bends on the 60-mile long trip.
Mind-boggling though the stats are, they were soon forgotten, as I became memerised by the incredible scenery which unfolded as the train ascended more than 6,500ft above sea level.
The picturesque pine forests, charming villages and mountain backdrops in magical swirling mist however, were lost on the young Indian couple sitting opposite me.
Judging from their exuberant PDAs, I guessed they were on their honeymoon – the Toy Train is considered one of the most romantic journeys in the world. Perched on the narrow benches, I was in knee-touching distance of the loved-up couple. So I fixed my eyes firmly on the breathtaking vistas.
More daring passengers opened the carriage doors and sat on the floor, feet dangling over the edge.
Entering a tunnel invariably triggered a series of whoops and shouts. There was a party
atmosphere, but lending some gravitas to the journey was Raaja Bhasin.
The author and historian had played a key role in getting UNESCO status for the railway and I was looking forward to the talk he would be giving in Shimla on the line’s history.
In the absence of a buffet car, we had brought a packed lunch, although there were vendors at every stop selling samosas, pakoras and other snacks, along with chai (tea) dispensed from a huge pot.
One vendor enterprisingly hopped on board with a bucket filled with chana chaat (chickpeas cooked with spices).
Bar the odd cow lying down on the track – which seemed to be a regular occurence – we simply waited until the sacred animal ambled away and we encountered no major delays.
SPLENDID
Dusk was falling when we pulled into Shimla station and at the five-star Oberoi Cecil, our splendid base for the next two nights, we were reunited with our luggage which went ahead of us by road.
In the days of the British Raj, the Oberoi Cecil was the town’s most exclusive hotel and still has much of its colonial charm.
It is said to be on the site of a house in which the Victorian author Rudyard Kipling wrote some of his work.
Stepping out on to my room’s balcony, I could appreciate the cooler climate after the heat of New Delhi where we landed two days earlier.
Shimla became the summer capital of British India in 1864.
From around April to October every year, the sub continent was governed from the hill station, as officials sought refuge from the sweltering heat of Calcutta. After
We spotted one monkey winning a tug of war with a tourist’s scarf
the excitement of the train trip I was ready for my bed, but remembered to check the balcony door was closed – an opportunistic monkey could wreak untold havoc in the room. I had to wait until the next day to see cheeky monkeys in action, scampering across rooftops and rattling windows along the four-and-a-half mile long traffic-free Mall. The social heart of Shimla, it feels like a little England, with its mockTudor shopfronts and fashionable boutiques. One of Shimla’s famous landmarks is the 19th century quintessentially English Christ Church.
The restored Gaiety Theatre, opened in 1877, plays an important role in the town.
Kipling himself trod the boards of this charming Victorian theatre which plays host to touring companies as well as local amateur dramatic societies. Shimla was the HQ of the British Army and brought young ladies to the town.
Legend has it that the small square Scandal Point was so called after the Maharaja of Patiala eloped with the daughter of the British Viceroy.
Perched atop Observatory Hill is the Viceregal Lodge, the baronial pile that was once the Viceroy of India’s residence.
Last year marked 70 years since the country’s independence and the Lodge played a pivotal role hosting the likes of Mahatma Gandhi during the negotiations. Now home to an academic institute, it’s worth taking the guided tour to admire the Burma teak walls, carved walnut wood ceilings and fascinating photographs.
Finally we swung by Jakhoo Temple, on Shimla’s highest hill. Fittingly, it’s home to troops of monkeys – the temple is devoted to Lord Hanuman and has a 108ft high statue of the Hindu monkey god.
Sensibly, food is forbidden and visitors are advised to take off sunglasses and anything that glitters but it still didn’t stop one monkey we spotted
conducting a successful tug of war with a tourist’s scarf.
The last leg of our trip entailed travelling 360 miles by road and train south to Agra, and rising before dawn to see the Taj Mahal as the sun rose.
The sight of the world’s most beautiful building was dazzling. There was an aura of serenity that even the constant stream of visitors failed to puncture.
The marble mausoleum, built in 1653 by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan for his favourite wife, Mumtaz who died giving birth to their 14th child, as a monument of his eternal love must surely rank as the most romantic place on the planet.
On the other side of the Yamuna River, the Red Fort of Agra has a harsher history. In 1658 Shah Jahan was imprisoned in the regal sandstone citadel by his usurper son.
It’s believed he died eight years later in a fort tower with perfect views of the Taj Mahal.
Shah Jahan was buried with his wife in the Taj Mahal.
It had been a whirlwind taster of a trip full of exotic sights and heady experiences.
After riding the Toy Train, that commute to work by rail was going to be tough.