It was about a quarter of a century ago in Matheran (when I was all of 20 years) that I discovered that the sky was blue. Rather late in the day one might think. If you are however brought up in Mumbai you would have never seen a blue sky. I dare say that this is true of most Indian cities. Finally looking up at the heavens in Matheran that I managed to confirm what I had learnt probably in kindergarten.
It was during that trip to Matheran that I also discovered the meaning of another expression “Blue Haze of Smoke”. All had just started smoking. It wasn’t until I visited what is described as the world’s smallest hill station that I was finally able to grasp the meaning of the expression. Finally, I could see the blue haze of smoke as it wafted it ways across to the sky.
Naturally, the first thing that I wanted to see when I visited Matheran this weekend was to check out whether one could still see the smoke. Forget the fact that I had quit smoking or there is a ban on smoking in public spaces, I could clearly see the person in front of me smoke as I rode on a horse covering the last mile in Matheran. Sure enough the kid in front of me (possibly 20 years) smoking and the blue smoke curling up. The smoke however didn’t travel the distance. I asked the escort\owner of my horse as to whether the climate in this hill station had deteriorated. He answered in the affirmative. This despite the fact that no pollution emitting vehicle is allowed inside Matheran. After all even this hill station could not remain immune to the overall deterioration in the atmosphere.
Over the course of the next 24 hours I had to concede that the place had retained its pristine purity and not fallen prey to commercialization unlike other hill stations. While I rode on horse most of the time, my wife and son rode on a rickshaw drawn by two people. Horses and rickshaws are the only two modes of travel available in Matheran. Since my 4 year old son vetoed the idea of riding on a horse, we had to enlist the services of a rickshaw. This set me thinking again.
Matheran had managed to retain its charm by not falling prey to commercialization. Maybe the decision to not allow vehicles in just had something to do with the fact that the roads are extremely narrow. At any rate, this had resulted in many of its inhabitants having to take up pulling risckshaws for a living. Something against which the very fiber in one’s body revolted. If other hill stations had paid a price for commercialization, the residents of this hill station had paid a price for not going the commercial way. Taking the road less travelled clearly extracts a price too.
