The other morning, after a night bus from Delhi, I landed up in Naini Tal. This wasn’t really the plan, I was supposed to get off the bus forty kilometers back down the mountain at a place called Haldwani. Anyway I slept thru and woke as the bus was winding it’s way up the the famous Lake District of Uttaranchal.
Once I reached Naini Tal, I set about getting a taxi to Ranikhet but the drivers there are all spoiled from years of rich Indian tourists and the odd stupefied Westerner. Instead of paying INR1500, I jumped a local bus for INR 55 even though I was dying for my morning chai. The bus was not very comfy, my knees were jammed against the seat in front of me. The thought of spending three hours in this position without breakfast was not appealing at all. So when the bus stopped in some town, I jumped off and wandered the streets looking for a dhaba with fresh looking food. I came across this place where the oil was sizzling with fresh samosa and sat down to order.
The thing I like about Kumaoni people is that they don’t stare at your foreingness, a solo western woman can walk into a local dhaba and not become the centre of unwanted attention. The other thing I like about Kumaoni people is that they are nice to each other. Sitting waiting for my chai and samosa I watched an interaction between two men. They were talking about their orchards, from what I could understand. Then one of the men comes over and offers me a peach, freshly cut and de pitted. He laid it on the table in front of me in the same way as a jeweler would display gold. “It’s from my own orchard,” he said with a shy smile.
What a blessed breakfast, kindness and generosity from a humble stranger, piping hot samosa and chai as sweet as mountain air.