Snow Views, Tibetan Blues
& The Mukteshwar Miscalculation
Our day began early with a cup
of steaming ginger chai on the hotel balcony at The Naini Retreat. The
first rays of sunlight were gently stroking the ripples on Naini Lake below,
turning it into liquid gold. Birds chirped like an orchestra rehearsing for a
morning raga, and even Tia looked up from her phone long enough to say, “It’s…
nice.”
After a hearty breakfast of aloo
parathas, omelets, and fruit juice at the hotel’s dining hall (which, by the
way, has an old-world colonial charm with arched windows and mountain views),
we hopped into our Scorpio and made our way to the Snow View Point via
ropeway.
The ride was short but
exhilarating. As we floated above thick forests and tin rooftops, Chintu
gasped, “Are we flying, Papa?” Meanwhile, I clutched the railing tighter than
necessary—thanks to my mild fear of heights and an overactive imagination
involving faulty cables.
At the top, the Himalayan peaks
peeked through clouds like shy celebrities. Tia clicked 34 selfies in 6
minutes. Chintu, ever the daredevil, leaned a bit too far over a fence, nearly
dropping my DSLR into the abyss. I aged five years in five seconds.
After returning, we strolled
into the Tibetan Market. That’s where time stood still—mostly because Ritu
and Tia were locked in a fierce battle of bargaining over woollen scarves and
silver earrings. I ended up babysitting Chintu while sipping butter tea from a
street vendor and pretending I had any say in the matter.
We finally left Nainital at 4:15
PM, two hours behind schedule, with a trunk full of trinkets and a GPS route I
had probably misjudged. Halfway to Mukteshwar, I took the wrong turn and
ended up circling Bhimtal twice. Ritu’s glare could’ve melted glaciers.
But fortune favours the
flustered. We reached Ojaswi Resort Mukteshwar by 7 PM—cold, tired,
hungry, and just in time for dinner.
Stay Highlight – Ojaswi
Resort, Mukteshwar
Nestled among fruit orchards and
whispering pines, the Ojaswi Resort felt like a retreat designed for
poetic souls. The lobby was warm, literally and emotionally. The manager, Mr.
Rawat, greeted us with a wide smile and a plate of warm gulab jamuns. “Sir,
long drive?” he asked. I could only nod and point to my frozen nose.
Dinner was served in their cozy
in-house restaurant—thukpa for the kids, pahadi mutton curry for us, and
freshly made rotis. Tia took photos of her food before eating. Chintu dozed off
mid-bite. Ritu, however, was impressed. “It feels like home… just colder.”
The rooms had wooden floors,
extra blankets, and a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years. That night, as I
lay in bed under a thick quilt, I realized I hadn’t checked work emails even
once. That, dear reader, is liberation.
Mukteshwar’s Cliffside
Thrills & Chintu’s Vomit Chronicles
The next morning, I was woken by
birdsong and the smell of paranthas wafting from the dining area. We had our
breakfast outside—on a wooden deck under apple trees. It felt like we were
eating on the set of a Himalayan fairytale.
We walked to the Mukteshwar
Temple—a quiet place perched atop a ridge, surrounded by conifers and cool
breezes. Ritu folded her hands reverently. Chintu asked, “Is Shiva here, or is
he invisible?” Tia was too busy trying to get the perfect picture of the temple
bells.
Then came the Chauli ki Jali,
a dramatic cliffside rock formation famous for its drop views. Adventure
junkies were paragliding off its edge. I nudged Tia and said, “Want to try?” She
gave me a withering look. “Papa, I like living.”
Still, the view was enough
thrill for the rest of us.
By afternoon, we loaded back
into the Scorpio and aimed for Ranikhet. But mountains have their own
plans.
A Scenic Drive and A Scent of
Vomit
We drove through sunlit valleys
and thick pine forests. It was beautiful—until the curves got too curvy for
Chintu’s little stomach. “Papa… I feel funny,” he said, just before throwing up
all over his jacket. We stopped by a roadside tea shack. I cleaned up the mess
with tissues and wipes while Ritu handed out Hajmolas like blessings.
The shack owner, an elderly
Pahadi uncle, served us steaming chai and aloo pakoras. “Kids always fall sick
on this road,” he chuckled. “Try lemon water next time.” I thanked him, paid
double, and felt grateful for the unexpected kindness.
Stay Highlight—Xomotel
Ranikhet Heights
We reached Xomotel Ranikhet
Heights just before sunset. The building stood proud on a hill, overlooking
mist-covered pine valleys. The receptionist, a young man named Rohit, welcomed
us with herbal tea. “You’ll love the morning view from Room 205, Sir.”
He was right. But that night,
the real highlight was dinner. The chef made us a surprise “Pahadi Thali”
featuring local rajma, bhaang ki chutney, and mandua roti. Ritu was thrilled.
“Why don’t we eat like this at home?” she asked. I said nothing and focused on
the dessert.
Chintu, now recovered, ran
around the garden chasing fireflies. Tia, believe it or not, sat beside me
quietly, watching stars. “This… this is okay,” she whispered. Coming from her,
that was practically a poem.
Hotel
Contact Links (for fellow travellers):
- The Naini Retreat, Nainital
📞 +91-9871399001 - Ojaswi Resort, Mukteshwar
📞 +91-9568000019 - Xomotel Ranikhet Heights
xomotel.com
📞 +91-9690000017
If your child is prone to motion
sickness, keep lemon, Hajmola, dry snacks, and scented hand towels ready. Don’t
let the mountains take you by surprise!
Read the Full Series:
- Page 1: Nainital—A Bottle, a Temple & Too Many Selfies
- Page 2: Mukteshwar Mischief & Ranikhet Reflections
- Page 3: Dhanaulti Dramas & the Drive to Auli
- Page 4: Slopes, Snow & Surprises in Auli and Chamoli
- Page 5: Kausani Views & Ghost Stories in Abbott Mount
- Page 6: Pangot – Whispers in the Woods & a Farewell We Didn’t Want
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