The morning air was crisp and cool as the sun crept over the hills of Mukteshwar. I stood on the balcony, absorbing the serene beauty of the Kumaon range. Smitakshi and I were set to leave for Lansdowne shortly, and after last night’s conversation, I had a strong feeling that the journey would be more than a simple road trip. It couldn’t be a mere coincidence. Smitakshi, a stranger checking into the resort carrying my book, was planning to visit Lansdowne—my native town—and then asking me to tag along. There was something deeper at play. Or was it the writer in me who has started seeing too much into simple life?
We made good time from Mukteshwar, taking the easy route via Haldwani, Kashipur, and Dhampur before reaching Kotdwar, the gateway to the Pauri Garhwal hills. On the way, we stopped briefly to bow our heads to Sidhbali Maharaj across the river before continuing towards Lansdowne.
The winding road with serpentine bends cut across mountains, dense forests, and sleepy villages, each turn bringing us closer to our destination. After eight hours on the road, including a breakfast stop, we were still an hour away from Lansdowne.
The tea at Dugadda refreshed us as we filled the silence with casual conversation. Nothing intellectual, we spoke of the landscape’s beauty, the history of places like Lansdowne and Dehradun, and the odd weather patterns—a sure sign of climate change that seemed to have settled over Uttarakhand. As the day wore on and the sun started going down, our conversation took an introspective turn. But the short dialogues were always punctuated with pauses of silence as the short stretches of the road broke with sharp bends.
“You know, I’ve been reading a lot about paranormal activities lately,” Smitakshi said, breaking a comfortable silence as we drove through a particularly dense stretch of pine forest. “It’s fascinating how many cultures have stories about spirits, ghosts, and unexplained phenomena. It makes you wonder if there’s more to this world than we can see.”
Intrigued by her comment, I dared a full sideway glance at her. “Is that what drew you to Lansdowne? The haunting stories? Or is there something more?”
She smiled, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Partly. But there’s something else—something I can’t quite explain. It’s like… I’ve been there before, even though I know I haven’t.”
“Déjà vu?” I suggested.
“Maybe,” she replied thoughtfully. “But it feels deeper than that. Almost as if I have a connection to Lansdowne, and I feel the cosmos is aligned for me to find out.”
Her words stirred something within me—a mix of unease and curiosity. There was an intensity in her voice, a conviction that made me want to know more.
“So, what do you know about spirits?” I asked, steering the conversation back to the paranormal.
She paused as if choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I believe there are things we can’t explain in this world. And maybe… maybe it’s not about believing in ghosts or spirits. Maybe it’s about understanding that there’s more to life than what we can see and touch.”
Her words lingered in the air as we continued in silence, lost in our thoughts. I couldn’t help but wonder about what connected Smitakshi to Lansdowne. Was it just a fascination with the paranormal, or was there something more personal?
As we approached Derakhal, the last tea stop before Lansdowne, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. The atmosphere a bit more relaxed, but there remained an undercurrent of anticipation – unspoken yet palpable.
The last phase of the road was in good shape and well maintained by Garwhal Rifle; we paid the entry tax at the small barrier and hit the last stretch. The road winding through thick forests cast long shadows in the fading light. When we faced the west, the sun cutting through the tall pine trees created kaleidoscopic patterns on the windscreen. The patterns kept changing depending on the side we were on.
Smitakshi was quiet, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, deep in thought. The town retained its natural rustic beauty—quiet streets, a cantonment trying to resist the onslaught of tourism and commercialisation. All shrouded in a thick mist. Lansdowne felt different. It had quite a number of tourists, a lot of cars, and rows of hotels. Yet it seemed the town was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
We drove through the Garhwal Rifles Centre and the small market. Finally reaching the parade ground, we parked the car. Smitakshi got out and guided me with surprising confidence, as if she knew exactly where we were going. I followed without question, curious to see where this would lead. She descended the steep road cutting across the market, eventually turning onto a narrow lane.
“This way,” she instructed, her voice steady.
I complied, curiosity piqued, as we walked down the lane past old houses that seemed untouched by time. Many of them showed signs of unhurried quietness that comes when no one stays in a house for long. Finally, she pointed to a small, unassuming house at the end.
“This is it,” she said quietly. “This is where you live—not far from our hotel.”
I stopped, surprise washing over me. “How did you know?” I thought of my last book, which was based on Lansdowne, but surely that house was never a part of it.
She smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes. “Maa used to talk about it all the time. She told me stories about this house—about the people who lived here and their lives. She described it in such detail that I could almost see it. And now, standing here, I realise… she was talking about your house, Papa.”
The word “Papa” hung between us, taking my breath away. My mind raced, trying to piece together what she was saying. Had she known all along? Was I dreaming? What connection did the house have that drew her to Lansdowne?
“Smitakshi,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. “How… how did you know it was my house? And… whom did you call Papa?”
She looked at me with a calmness that belied the significance of her words. “I think I’ve always known, somewhere deep down. But I didn’t understand it until I saw this house. It’s as if everything has come full circle.”
Speechless, I stood there. The connection between the house, the town, and Smitakshi and me is still unclear.
We stood there looking at the house at a distance. The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the town. The house, with its weathered walls and old-world charm, seemed to hold the answers to questions I hadn’t even dared to ask.
As we walked towards the hotel, I realised that this journey to Lansdowne was more than a physical trip. It was a journey into the past, into memories long buried. And now, standing behind Smitakshi, I knew our connection was more profound than either of us had ever imagined.
“Let’s complete the formalities, rest, and meet in the evening. There’s so much we need to talk about. So many questions I have. It’s… upsetting.” I said
She nodded, and together, we walked towards the rooms, ready to face whatever truths were waiting to be uncovered. And then she smiled and said, “Good Night, Papa.”
BLOG/075/2024 To connect, send an email, join on Twitter S_kotnala or subscribe to the weekly update. Here is Chapter 1 – Rainy evening in a resort at Mukhteshwar of the story with an undisclosed destination. Chapter -II. The beaches and whispering Mukhteshwar. and Chapter-III Mukhteshwar encounter, Chapter IV- Shadows of a Dream. , Chapter -V Opening Gambit-e5 and chapter-VI- An Evening of Unveiled Secret.
This story with undisclosed destination started as part of the @BlogChatter event #BlogChatterBlogHop where I started weaving a story based on the weekly word prompts suggested by BlogChatter. However, after the 5th weekly prompt- Blogchatter took a break, but I continued to develop the story based on the prompts friends and readers suggested on social media. I look forward to more work prompts next week. This week’s prompts were Journey, Papa, supernatural, Ugly, Trimmed, Luck, Confidence, and Climate. I have been able to use 5 out of 8 in this chapter.
