A Toy To the Adult by Sandeep Silas

The Kalka-Shimla Railway

Like smoke wafting lazily from a candle, blown by a kiss of the wind, chugs the Kalka-Shimla train.  The mist, held by the hills and the pines, lowers itself in a welcome to the traveller.  Its freshness brings alive the sensations hitherto forgotten and buried under the pace of life.

If you look down history lane with a telescope, you find the gallant  and  fearsome Grouches of Nepal walking  into  Sikkim  in 1814.   The ruler of Sikkim, helpless, appeals to the East  India company and the Company Bahadur extends security.   At the  close of the war in 1816, under the Nepalese Peace Treaty the  British `mandarins retained a huge tract of land, which also included the ridge on which Shimla was later built.

One  Major Kennedy, built for himself a house at  Shimla  in 1822.   The  Governor General’s were quick to  realise  that  the environs  of Shimla offered them an England in India.   Lord  Amherst  spent the summer in 1827, followed by his  successor  Lord William  Bentick.   However,  the journey  was  not  particularly comfortable for the Gora Sahib.  Ponies, or jampans – sedan chair fitted with curtains, slung on poles borne by bearers, over a  43 mile mountain track made mule of a man.

It  was only for a correspondent, to conceive the idea of  a railway  line, that time waited for, till Nov. 1847.   A  passionate plea in the Delhi Gazette by this gentleman advocated the sketching  of a railway line to Shimla – “We may then see these  cool regions become the permanent seat of a Government, daily  invigorated  by a temperature adapted to refresh a  European  constitution, and keep the mental power in a state of health,  beneficial both  to rulers and the ruled”.  The earliest field surveys  were conducted  between 1884-95.  While the railway surveys  were  on, The  Hindostan and Tibet Road, 58 miles, was opened during  1850-56.

The signing of a contract between Secretary of State and the Delhi Umbala Railway Company in 1898 signalled the beginnings  of the  line.  The journey to a cooler paradise became a reality  in Lord Curzons’ time.

The bosom of the highly erratic Shivalik hills was parted by a 96 km. railway line on Nov. 9th, 1903.  Three years  of  labour by dedicated engineers and labourers in limestone and shale rocks saw through an astounding feat.

The line passes over 864 bridges and  under 102 tunnels.  Two-thirds of the formation is  laid  on sharp curves– sharper than a damsels !

The British chose the narrow gauge dimensions of 2′-6″ as the  hills  tolerated no more than a whisper to rise  the  arduous 1519  m   between the plain and the hill.  The treachery  of  the hill formation was bound by a silver thread, reassuringly.  Lofty stone  bridges,  arched in their effort of holding the  rail,  at times  three-tiered  too, arrest the sight of a  traveller.

The dark tunnels aplenty on the ascent, bring more than an opportunity to a honeymooning couple.  Excited whistles and natural  cries rent the air when you travel.  A curious mix of chill and  warmth permeates the atmosphere.

The  journey from Kalka to Shimla is absolutely out  of  the world.  Immediately on arrival at Kalka one sheds off his inhibitions  like snake-skin.  The toy train provides  a  breath-taking view  of the Kushalya river, the moment it enters the  foothills. The  serpentine splash of mercury  keeps disappearing  and  reappearing  with each bend for some time.  Passage through the  Koti tunnel makes you hunt for a coat and the air jabs you, the moment you hit Jabli, 1240 m above sea-level.

Three  picturesque loops near Taksal, Gumman  and  Dharampur provide  photo-opportunity  to an enthusiast.  But wait, more  is to follow.  The ascent is steady.  The train huffs and puffs  its way across green meadows, capsicum fields, red-roofed chalets and half  timbered houses.  Each coach has chuckle under its  wheels. Through  aged  in  service, it does not sigh, for  it  carries  a pleasant  burden.  About seven coaches form a train, to  accommodate  about 200 passengers per trip.  The extremities of  weather do not dislodge the determination of the 700 horse power B-B type diesel  engines.   They run to the call of  duty  in  temperature ranging  from  0-45  Celsius and in snow which  averages  2  feet during  winters.  What to talk of the annual rainfall of  200-250 cm   received  by  the hills!  The average speed  of  25-30  kmph ensures that “hurry” is removed from the psyche and replaced by a naturalness of demeanour.

If  you want to taste the beauty of nature  in  exclusivity, travel  in the Rail Motor Car.  There are four of them and  three date to 1927, while the last dates to 1930.  A group of 18 can be housed  in  this vintage experience.  You will  be  surprised  to learn  that  the original White & Pope petrol engines  fitted  by Drewery Car Company Ltd., London, were replaced during the second World  War as petrol was scarce.  Americans supplied  the  diesel engines to the car, from General Motors, U.S.A.

Surprises  escape the visage as nature unrolls  its  bounty.  Gurgling  brooks flowing down mountains, passing under the  stone bridges,  present  a pleasing sight.  Clouds of  mist  decide  to tumble down and gingerly touch you, enlivening your senses.   The train  meanders through Kumarhatti, then enters the Barog  tunnel which  is  more than a kilometre long, precisely 1144  mts.  This tunnel  crosses  the Panchmunda ridge, about 900 feet  below  the road. At Barog, it is mealtime, on the morning trip.

 

Through the English firm of “Spencers” which built the restaurant at Barog is no longer there, but the English hospitality continues to live.

From  Barog  to  Kandagthat the train  runs  downhill,  past beautiful  and quaint retreats of Solan and Saloghra.  The  final climb begins at Kandaghat.  Gradually, solemn forests of  deodars and  pines  replace the meadows.  The abundant  green  fills  the soul.   At Shogi, a heartwarming view of the Chail valley  brings numerous  anecdotes associated with a Prince to the fore.  It  is said  that this Punjab Prince, pinched the bottom of  an  English class on the Shimla ridge, and was thence banished from English society at Shimla.  Undeterred, he built for himself a palace  at Chail, a nearby resort.

Past Taradevi, the railways take you under Prospect hill  to Jutogh,  winding  its way like a naughty current of  air  teasing you, tickling you, till it pauses at Summer Hill.

The  prospects of a fullsome holiday brighten up the spirits of each  traveller. Finally,  like the last birth pang it burrows under the  Inverarm Hill, to emerge and deliver a happy child at Shimla.

The  transformation of a traveller from an adult to a  child is  complete.

As little as a train journey brings out the  child in  the  man, to chuckle, laugh and indulge in  childlike  pranks around the invigorating forest paths of Shimla.

 

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