Blissfully off-grid

A laidback vacation in Pangot and Kilbury is the perfect antidote to the perils of city life

After the heat and dust of Delhi, the woods high up in the Himalayas seem lovelier, darker and deeper. Wildflowers pop their heads from amidst grassy knolls. A cool breeze picks up, and I watch an oak leaf lazily fall to the ground. This summer idyll is interrupted by a distant voice shouting hello. "Hello…" the hills echo back. The hellos go back and forth for a while, and I clamber down the hillside to see what's happening. A largish group of people is standing on the roadside, waving their arms about and shouting hello. "This is, what we call the Connection Point of Pangot," explains a local. "It is the only place in the village where one gets cell phone connectivity — weather permitting, of course." Fresh from the city, I wonder how they find time, not just to walk considerable distances simply to use their mobile phones — but to also turn it into a social affair. Many are more interested in listening to others' conversations and offering their own two bits, than calling anyone themselves. Just around the bend, there’s a tea shop selling tea, Maggi noodles and glucose biscuits. I order all three and return to a suitable perch above Connection Point. And so, my first evening in Pangot is spent watching the day melt into a starry night, while being entertained by strangers talking on their phones. As evening entertainment goes, it is right up there with going everyday to the railway tracks at sundown to watch the Rajdhani hurtle past. Having done both, all I can say is both trump watching the telly back at home.
 

Merely 13 kilometres from Nainital and at 6,300 feet above sea, Pangot takes the jaded city dweller far from the hurly burly of urban life. Surrounded by a dense tree cover of oak, pine and rhododendron, it is a haven for birdwatchers (more than 250 species of birds have been recorded in the area).In fact, Pangot and its environs are now part of the Naina Devi Himalayan Bird Conservation Reserve. To me, its sunlit glades,balmy summer weather and dark forest trails offer more than birding opportunities — they provide the rare chance to disconnect from all my devices and amble around with only my thoughts for company. 
 
Morning dawns cool and fresh. I decide to hike to the piquantly-christened hamlet Gugukhan with a local guide. Barely a couple of kilometres away from civilisation, we spot a freshly made mound of leopard poop. Leopards are common here, he says. In fact, since they often prey upon domestic animals and livestock, they’re considered pests. Just then, an Asian paradise flycatcher distracts us. We watch the male take flight, its long tail feather trailing like a fanciful train on a fashionista’s gown. The female is a lot less showy, as is often the case in the avian world. The leisurely hike proves to be way more interesting than the destination. After the salutary glass of sweet tea at the local tea shop, we turn back. The afternoon sun casts its shadows on the oak leaves on the forest floor. I watch the antics of an Ashy Drongo out on a hunt, while listening to a noisy concert by some Blue Throated Barbets. “What is there to do in Kilbury?” I ask the guide, when he suggests I go there next. The guide thinks for a while, and then shrugs. “Nothing much,” he says finally. “Kilbury is the sort of place where one simply watches the clouds drift by.”
 

Kilbury is an enchanted forest teeming with birds and ancient trees. Soon after I reach, the horizon begins to darken with rain-bearing clouds. I entreat the affable caretaker to make tea and pakodas, and settle down to enjoy the weather. It’s been two days since I checked my email, I realise with a start. With a bigger start, I realise I haven’t missed it at all. That afternoon, on the drive back to Delhi, when my phone starts beeping with backlogged emails and texts, I see the all-too-familiar bars of network on the phone. I determinedly switch it off and settle into a daydream, determined to make the magic of Pangot last just a while longer.