Shubhangi Nagalia

When I was little, I used to think Dehradun was the world. As I got a little bit older, I started thinking that it was a country, and then I was told that it was a city. It was quite a realization as a 2- 3-year-old kid, finding out that the city I lived in was not the only place in the world. It is quite fascinating to think how space is one with us as children, and how we come to look at spaces as distinct later on. Having said that, I now realize that Dehradun has always been a state of being for me, as opposed to a geographical name. The best part about the city is that there is nothing special about it, and in a way that makes every single feature of it special. It is as if time doesn’t exist here. I go to the same places, the same corners that I have been going to since I was small, but the feelings remain constant. But what one feels here, is not a feeling, it is beyond. It is akin to that which inherently remains constant in the midst of outer changes. The beauty of this city lies in the fact that it is not its cafes and modern features that bring joy and contentment, but the wilderness and the little tapris of happiness located here and there where you just sit and let the construct of time pass you by.

The charms of small towns, one thing everyone belonging to such hometowns will tell you is that the days are slow, much slower than in metropolitans. When you go outside for a walk on the streets enveloped with wilderness, you almost feel the time brushing past your face. Time doesn’t matter here. And as the night descends, you are engulfed by the sound of chirping crickets that rings through your ears, whispering of home.

There is a certain liveliness in doing everything here, even something as dumb as bunking tuitions. Every time I drive through Dehradun, I can see my past high-school self riding on two-wheelers with my friends throughout the town. Where would we go, you ask? Well, we would mostly go around Racecourse which is an area that is circular. It used to be an actual racecourse for horse races but was converted into a habitable area after the partition. We would go to the “Ghanta ghar” and feast on ice-creams. I know it sounds funny, but “clock tower” does not have the same ring to it.

But the place we would mostly go to was the “Maggi Point.” Contrary to what it seems like, maggi point is not one place, but many. When we go “upar ki side,” meaning upwards, towards Mussoorie, we see a plethora of maggi points scattered on the side of the road. And no, they don’t just serve maggi, but all sorts of wholesome junk food. Over the years I have had the pleasure of trying every one of them. But some maggi points hit differently. There is this one that I frequent with my friends since forever. As high-schoolers, going there was just a way to have fun, but now it has become a way of life. Earlier we used to go there for the food, and now we go there for the view. Well, the chai and maggi and bun makkhan are collectively close seconds. There is a certain beauty in sitting there as the sun sets, overlooking the entire city of Dehradun in the form of scattered specs of lights while sipping chai with an occasional sutta in hand.

And if you want to have the best street food of your life, you’ll have to take the left in front of Dwarka store. You would then be greeted by the beautiful “Bun-tikki” thela. Bun-tikki is not food to be cherished, it is an experience to be had. Bun-tikki will awaken all your senses with one bite, and until you finish it, you will find yourself drowning in flavours. I used to save five rupees every month to have it as a kid. And now I save having it for a moment of absolute joy and oblivion.

So when one feels the need to be cradled with clouds, one drives for 45 minutes to arrive at Mussoorie. But if you drive 25 minutes to the outskirts of the town, you can find yourself stopping by to take a dip in a river that flows by. You could sit there with your feet dipped in the river for hours, and after a while, you would realize that it has carried all your worries and thoughts away with it. And all that remains is peace. After all, it is the city of love, it makes you fall in love with life as it is.

Over the years I have come to appreciate so much about Dehradun, its abundance of everything: of nature, of love, of beautiful and sometimes irrational people. I guess that’s the best part about living in a valley; you’re neither here nor there and it has taught me that even in moments of despair when we feel that we have nothing, in reality, we are surrounded by everything.

(The view from maggi point)