From Binsar’s Mystique to Bhimtal’s Congested Transformation

Locals tout a visit to ‘Zero Point’ as a ‘must do’ in Binsar. This location, one is told, offers glorious views of the snow-clad peaks that surround the sanctuary. Further enquiry revealed that the trek commenced in proximity of Simba Cafe, a hub created for tourists near the meadow where the sixteenth century Bineshwar Mahadev temple is located.

A casual wave in response to my query by an employee at the cafe as to where to commence the trek from got me started in the direction of the surrounding jungle. The wide path I embarked on narrowed as one progressed up the hill. Thicket encroached upon the trail and gradually every step necessitated deliberation.

A cow tied near the outhouses mooed in response to my effort at a ‘selfie’ on the terraced landscape overlooking the meadow below.

This respite was followed by attempting the obtuse as the climb became steeper hereon. I trudged through the foliage, waving my cane to clear the path. At points, I’d sink the stick in the ground to assess the firmness of the soil through the layers of dried leaves and bark that carpeted the path. Elsewhere, one heaved over solid rock outcrops that decided both climb and direction.

Finally, the endless deodars rose in a frame of blue sky – and a peak was thus defined. I forgot my exhaustion momentarily. A newfound spring launched my stride in the direction of a clearing. Ahead, a family of four hunched around snacks spread on a bench looked up as my shadow slid past them.

“Good afternoon,” a rotund middle-aged lady among them cheerily greeted me. Breathless as I was, I returned her greeting.

I was perplexed since I didn’t recall anyone ahead or behind me on the hour-long trek I just concluded. Voices interrupted my thoughts – and I turned to see another group of four or five youngsters alighting from the viewing station built atop a corner of the clearing. I climbed up the steps wearily to be surrounded by a breathtaking view of the snow-clad Himalayas.

The crackle of voices from beneath distracted me and my gaze returned to immediate proximity. A dozen tourists of varied ages, conversing animatedly in Bengali, were approaching the staircase to the pavilion from a path to my immediate right. A closer look revealed the path that wound gently up the hill along a slope even a baby could have sauntered along.

My puzzled sensibilities at the end of what had for me been a treadmill test were drowned in this cacophony that surrounded me now.

After a long last gaze at the distant peaks, shrouded in respectable white, I trailed one of these groups to amble down the hill. In the distance, I noticed numerous vehicles awaiting them on a road not too far.