On the outskirts of Mumbai is a quaint little hillstation called Matheran. A toy train takes you chugachug up the hills, and into a pristine green foliaged environment devoid of all motorised traffic.
When I was young and innocent, which I never really was, I had made up my mind that Matheran is the nicest place in this part of the world. Having gorged myself on The Famous Five books filled with liberal helpings of camping trips, moorland, countryside, hiking and being confined to good old smog city Bombay got the best part of me restless. Since This Heaven Somewhere Within Reach on Earth existed so near to Mumbai, I would propel (rather drag along) my parents and all other willing / unwilling kin quite frequently here, which is why they all bless me now.
Even today I get pulled by the immense greenery and red earth of Matheran.
My little sojourns into Matheran still continue, and as I walk through the dark dappled moving shadows and the scarce patches of sunshine on the red lanes of Matheran, I realise that my childhood spirit was making the right connections all the time.
Imagine the whole world without tar roads, motor vehicles, newspapers, phones, and the smell of exhaust fumes. Awfully inconvenient? Now if you are imagining correctly, add only green trees and more trees all around (if its autumn, a few of other colors are Okay!), pure fresh air and dense forested glades that suddenly part to reveal ravines having views that are breathtakingly beautiful. Add to this fact that The World as you know it is not very far away - just 120 kilometers away lies Mumbai, even visible, even summonable at a hours notice - you get Matheran, the nearest place farway. I know, it doesn’t seem sooooo inconvenient now, does it? And of course Mr. Childhood would add "wild" horses, "secret" lanes, "faraway lands" below and places with unexplained exotic names like Shivaji’s Ladder, Porcupine Point and even more delicious names (to my then unbiased tastes) like Charlottle Lake and Louisa Point the lure was magnetic and incorrigible, or so my parents say!
So welcome to Matheran! Wear a straw hat with a wide brim to look merry, shop for chikkis, run around for miles, take a horse ride, and as your horse moves rustling through the dense shrubbery absorb the evening sounds - the clatter of the hooves, the merry sounds of invisible picnickers reaching you through another clearing, get your eyes adjusted to the fading light playing with you, and behold the scene as you suddenly emerge into a "point" which is nothing but the open space on the edge of the hills, and be amazed at the exquisite views of never-ending field-dotted lowlands around you.
Since your vehicles have to be parked outside Matheran (a place called Dasturi Naka, which is a toll gate, and also referred to in this review as The Beginning of Outside World), rediscover walking. But take care, for in Matheran to rediscover walking means unlearning the paved sidewalk and learning to step over snares of gnarled roots, twisting pines and expertly slipping and rebalancing. Walk over the now unused railway track, shut down after last years torrential rains damaged sections of it, and over which a "toy train" used to ply.
Psst... let me tell you some secrets of this "toy train". In 1900 AD, the son of the business tycoon Sir Adamjee Peerbhoy of Mumbai, obtained a rather reluctant permission from his father for this narrow gauge railway line to Matheran. Its construction from 1904 to 1907 as a two feet gauge line over a zig zag route from Neral made Matheran the so very accessible place I talk about in this gushing review. Since Neral is midway on the Mumbai-Pune route of the central railway it is now run over by half of holidaying Mumbai, the other half of which noisily continues on towards Lonavala. Sigh! As the train which runs through a gamut of tunnels over its two-hour journey is hence accordingly crowded on weekends, the ’One Kiss Tunnel’ which gives a couple time just sufficient for a kiss, lies unused for its original purpose, and the only practical reason it now exists is for the toy train to pass through the previously blocking mountains! :-) Sigh! The world is cruel to lovers.
For quelling the strict non-trekkers worries: The road to Matheran which was once the old foot-trail allows you to share a taxi to Dasturi Naka from Neral. The drive takes hardly 20 minutes, and from Dasturi Naka is a four-kilometre exhilarating walk to the centre of the resort. Fooled you there about the non-trekking part!
Okay, relax. Transport is available in the form of ponies, hand-pulled rickshaws (man push man, mean!) and feet. The last mode of transport makes you last forever. Period. If I am allowed to digress, read Henry David Thoreau’s essay on Walking. Thoreau, like Charles Dickens, used to easily walk 20 to 30 kilometers in a day, or rather, everyday.
The Main Market
As seems a norm in all places in India the main road is called the Mahatma Gandhi Road (M.G. Road) though here it is still of red earth and is lined with lots of hotels and by shops selling chikki sweets (varieties -peanut, sesame seed, coconut, ginger, cashew, etc.), honey.decorative grasses, wicker items and tourist paraphernalia such as camera rolls.
Does a tiny girl fllow you trying to sell you finger-sized footwear - miniature showpiece chappals actually - then do yourself and her a favor and buy one. Unless you want her to fade into nostalgia like gas lamps and gramaphones. For wearable sizes bigger than thumbnails ask the local craftsmen in the shops who will make you a pair of sandals, chappals or boots made-to-order in a couple of days which you can collect on you way out if it is a weekend trip.
Tourist Attractions
Matheran has 33 scenic points, of which Echo Point, Sunset Point and Monkey Point (named so due to a visible cave which is the nocturnal resting place of the monkeys that abound here) are the most popular. There is a water body refereed to as Charlotte Lake, a nice picnic spot which is actually the water reservoir of Matheran. There is the grandly-named Olympia Racecourse where the month of May sees the many-colored horse population of the place competing in riding events.
Post Monsoons
The hill-station (Matheran means "Forest Head") wears its beautiful green crown all year round but is at its dazzling best during the end of the monsoons. This is the season of breathtaking waterfalls cascading loudly over the silence, valleys shrouded in mist, dripping jambhul leaves and clouds touching you and passing by.
So, dear Mumbai-ite and Pune-ite, do plan a weekend to Matheran - sometimes you can learn a lot in 48 hours if the terrain is right. Leave that deathmatch on your computer screen, put the pressure-cooker lid firmly over Ekta Kapoor’s sizzling serials, even leave your pot-boiler behind (psst... lest the bookworm in you may die out, there is a library to which you can sneak away to here) , and arrive here so that you can endlessly keep walking to nowhere special. Everywhere is exquisite.