What’s ruining Landour: The quiet Himalayan hill town overrun by day-trippers

There is no signboard outside the cemetery in Landour. It disappeared some time ago. The white-painted wooden gate, like much of the graveyard, needs upkeep; sticks have been inserted in places to keep strays out.The Christian burial ground, just a few years younger than the cantonment town the British set up almost 200 years ago, is a testament to the forlorn side of the Raj. Many British soldiers are buried here; young men who fell in a faraway land, not to bullets, but to malaria, cholera, or, for reasons unknown. Like 79299 Private JW Larvin of 19th Royal Hussars who died at 21 in 1920. Or M Curren of the Military Police Corps who passed on at 28 in 1918. Or Private WR Goulding of King's Dragoon Guards, who now lies surrounded by carefree daisies.Shanta Devi lives among the dead. The caretaker’s small hut is close to the elderly but virile deodar tree that the Duke of Edinburgh planted in Feb 1870. Dressed in a green salwar-kurta, Shanta speaks with the quiet dignity of the hardy and the honest. Precise dates escape her. “I was born in Tehri,” she says, “and married shortly before Indira Gandhi was killed.” She was unaware that a long life in the graveyard awaited her. “My husband would do odd jobs till he became the cemetery’s chowkidar,” she says. Then she adds, “He had breathing problems; died in 2018.”The unheeded resting place, ironically, is among the few spots where the soul of Landour remains intact. Even a couple of decades ago, the petite hill town, where rain and sun still wrestle for everyday dominance, personified the sensuality of silence, the importance of days without agenda. It seemed to be a place where the clock moved slower than elsewhere and where the Welsh vagabond poet WH Davies would ‘stand and stare’. Even the dogs, with their rockstar hair, would take an afternoon nap.The dogs are still there. The stillness is gone. There’s plenty of defence land in this hill town, perhaps a reason why fresh constructions are rare. Yet change has crept in. Lal Tibba has lost its natural grace, being replaced by a cafe that overlooks the main picture point. The view can be bought but the place has lost its innocence and serenity. It’s the day-trippers – too many of them -- who have changed Landour. Many are holidaymakers from across the country, lodged in Mussoorie, who come here to spend a few hours. Then there are young couples, or stags who course through town, either on motorbikes or in cars, from nearby towns and states. Parked SUVs and sedans stretch from the Kellogg's Church to over half a kilometre. Earlier the quiet walks on the paved pathways surrounded by pine repaired and restored amblers. Now every 30 seconds or so, automobiles rush arrogantly by. The air, once scented with nature, is awash with fumes. Undeterred by the signages to observe quiet, bullying music blares from big cars. This reporter saw a woman on a video call telling her friend in Surat that she is calling from ‘Londar’. She didn’t need the mobile.“Most tourists who climb from the sweltering corruption of the plains to Himalayan serenity lack an elementary education in social graces, civilised behaviour, respect for local culture, and drive SUVs without seemingly ever having been taught any driving etiquette,” says actor Victor Banerjee, a Landour resident since 1982. Mussoorie-born writer Stephen Alter points out that the beauty of Landour lies in its forested hillsides, mountain views and once peaceful atmosphere. “Unfortunately, it has become an extension of Mussoorie’s Mall Road with endless traffic jams, unruly tourists and garbage littering the slopes. Sometimes I don’t recognise Landour anymore,” he confesses.Adds Victor, “Landour is today's melting pot of social disgrace. We residents tolerate it behind shutters and locked gates and certainly, during weekends, never dare venture out onto the plagued hillside.”Unsurprisingly, a stream of vehicles is lined up near Char Dukan on the road, indicating a traffic jam ahead. They are shooting -- what else! -- a web series just below the 185-year-old St Paul’s Church, where the opening scene of Alter’s taut thriller, The Rataban Betrayal, is set. Movement of humans and vehicles is on pause, as happens during ‘VIP movement’ in the Capital. In New Delhi, cops do such jobs. Here burly crew men looking like pub bouncers are on the job. Only a monkey dares disobey, interrupting the romantic frame. The simians have become bolder. Two years ago, they vigorously stalked a pack of journalists, including this reporter, carrying plum jam and peanut butter in plastic bags. The monkeys – one of them had a thuggish glint – walked alongside us for a good 500 metres. At Char Dukan, one of them jumped, literally, on an editor’s shoulder. In another instance, a cocky simian burgled a half-eaten pizza from a shocked woman’s bag.Over the years, Landour has attracted many notables, Sachin Tendulkar the most well-known. There's a photograph of him grabbing a bite at one of those modest eating places in Char Dukan. His photograph also adorned the humble shop of a cobbler in Landour’s Cantonment Bazaar who had crafted a pair of boots for the cricketer. Landour has its own superstar, though. The stardom of Ruskin Bond, now 91, is untrammeled by age. To young literature lovers, his house is a place of pilgrimage. But fans can also be phoneys. “In Leaves from a Journal,” Bond writes with humour how an elderly gentleman from Saharanpur came to his home and told him that his favourite Bond story was “The Lamp Is Lit Again” and he was also aware that the writer’s father had been in the ICS. Bond gently reveals that he hadn’t written any story by that name and wasn’t aware of his father being in ICS – although he was kind enough not to point that out to the gentleman. What the day trippers have been unable to change is the Landour weather. The wind fondling your face is cold even in May. The drizzle remains as unexpected as before. The rhododendrons are redder than ever. And you can still pick up pine cones on a walk.Also, for its size, the hill station offers some first-rate eateries, including a couple in the pricey hotels. Hot pancakes with maple syrup remain a best-seller at Char Dukan. A new bakehouse at Sisters Bazaar is a hot favourite. Even on weekdays the waiting time can stretch to 30 minutes or more. The butter and jam at the vintage home provision store still draws in buyers. Meeting a young dog named Gangster sitting at the entrance is a bonus. Never was a dog more different from his name.Tourism creates and sustains livelihoods. But Landour encapsulates the fate of many hill stations overrun by it. No place can be frozen in time, but picture-postcard hill towns also need to be nursed with care. Landour is slow music. It is in danger of becoming a song lost.