Matheran memories

The little toy train going from Neral to Matheran has completed a century. I love this little hill station. Even today there are no vehicles allowed. When I was young of course the joy of riding the toy train was wonderful.

My first trip was when I was 11 or so. The family would divide itself into two groups. Being the pampered one it was understood that I would stay with both! On this particular occasion the arriving train got delayed, so the second group had not reached the hotel. Everyone was wondering what to do. Till the gentle and genial owner Jimmy Lord said not to worry, they’d take care of me.

Now, that was unnecessary. For, come lunch time and I ordered the food (a set menu they changed daily) in the room…the verandah, really…it was a five course meal and I sat there looking out for the monkey that swooped down and carried away my precious custard.

I had made friends and one of the boys had come to give me Phantom comics to read. Ah, such joy it was…From the glass door I could see my mother who had just arrived. She was shocked, not on seeing a boy but that I did not have the courtesy to wait, and while she was worried sick and quarreled with her brother for leaving her poor baby alone, here I was enjoying a meal.

Matheran meant long walks on the red mud, horse riding (or at least falling off the horses), buying the famous slippers, especially the tiny doll-sized ones, faux fur bags with dog faces, sitting by the lake, feeding peanuts to the monkeys, and visiting all those points. I loved the Echo Point most. Just the thought that one could hear one’s voice twice over was fascinating. Unlike others, I called out my own name…

Later I visited in my teens. The toy train stopped somewhere in the middle and we spent a few hours cramped in. A bunch of goys who we assumed were loafers turned out to be the most helpful. Finally, when they decided they were going to hike up, I thought it would be a good idea. I did not realise that my mother was wearing a saree. We had made the huge error of not making reservations. So all that was available was a dorm. Finally, someone directed us to a very basic guest house. They made it clear that there was only vegetarian food. The loo was outside the room, so all three of us, my cousin was there too, would march purposely with a huge stick to shoo of the monkeys and keep vigil.

Mealtimes were quite funny. In those days I was very ‘meaty’. A thali would be placed before us and all kinds of vegetables, dals, chutneys and pickles would be dumped. I would protest and they would be really hospitable. The icing on the cake was a dollop of warm ghee poured on the chapattis and a piece of jaggery. When I asked why, they would say, “Good for bones.” Oh, that was a memorable trip despite all the small problems.

On the return we were back in the toy train and it was such a beautiful sight to see it curve along the mountain tracks.

Subsequently, I have even driven there. One stops at a particular spot and then walks for half an hour to reach the place. Sometimes you get horses or rickshaw pullers. I used the latter once but was filled with guilt. Then I realised that this was his livelihood.

I have stayed at a couple of other places but Lords has been the perennial favourite. If you get the valley view room then it is amazing. They have kept it old-world, although a pool is there now. As a child I remember they had this huge tub in the open and some of us favoured ones were allowed to jump in. Since I did not have a swim suit, I would wear my slip. Of course, I would be roundly ticked off for it. Couldn’t understand why. What on earth does an 11-year have to show?

Jimmy Lord would talk to his guests. In fact I recall the last trip. He was watching TV and it was ‘Baywatch’. That was the only thing he liked, he said. We would have coffee in the living room or riffle through books and magazines. I remember when he saw me mount this sturdy brown stallion, he shouted out in his Parsi accent, “Don’t ride too long or you will get a sore backside.”

Ah! The horse owner usually takes you on a trot. I had got adventurous and asked him how to steer the reins; he told me. Well, that was it. It was drizzling a bit…yes, red earth and pouring rain…We happened to be on one of those touching the edge of the cliff tracks and instead of pulling right, I tugged left and the horse slid a bid. The ghodeywalla was happily walking ahead till I shouted out to him, “Hum gir rahe hai.” He rushed back and said, “Madam, ghoda girta to mera kya hota?”

Back in the room after a wash, it was beautiful to watch the sun set and write poetry. The hills are indeed alive with the sound of music.