By:Ganesh Saili
‘Yes! Seven bazaars!’ she says, adding: ‘Shall I list them for you?’
Sunita and her husband, Amarjeet Kuddle run Villa De Bethany, a homestay at the top of the hill and as she speaks, the line is cast and I am hooked. We begin in Jharipani around the Railway school of Oak Grove, where Mrs. Grange, a planter’s widow, once ran Halfway House as an eatery. A mile away was Barlowganj, below St George’s College; Kulri bazaar started at Picture Palace and tapered off at the Jhoolaghar; then began Library Bazaar, which included Majestic Cinema and ended at the Mussoorie Library; Dhoomanganj was just two or three shops and crowning it was Sisters’ Bazaar with three shops atop Landour bazaar.
Gobsmacked, mouth agape, I look like a golden mahaseer trapped in the foaming waters of our many rivers. There is precious little I can do except go into a huddle listening to Ms. Kuddle. Over the years, Mussoorie-Landour has had its fair share of merchants, traders, writers, poets, artists, actors, faith healers, and antique dealers. Landour Bazaar started for the Pioneers building the convalescent depot. In its early days, it was a Cantonment Bazaar or Sadar Bazaar and was a part of the cantonment. Then 1st of March 1897 saw the Grand Parade from the Mussoorie side was transferred to municipal care. It continues to have some 300 shops owned by all kinds: petty dealers in fruit and vegetables, grain merchants, dealers of all sorts and sizes, cloth merchants, money-lenders, and local bankers. It used to be one of the best bazaars in India; the majority of the large dealers were direct importers from European manufacturers, and one could get almost anything one required. In our narrow lanes, a tale survives of Ramanand, a halwai who sold the only shawl (or lohi) he possessed on arrival in the station for twelve annas, set up a small shack, and eventually came to own considerable landed property. But, of course, to assure his relatives and associates that he was no rajah, his mode of living never changed from that of his less fortunate past.
Advocating the transfer of this bazaar, a former commissioner observed: ‘This is the Masuri Bazaar, improperly called the ‘Landour bazaar’. The formation of the hills is such that there no other place where a bazaar can be formed.’ Poor soul, he could not foresee what sharp business chasers and successive Municipal boards could do to almost make Mussoorie one ghastly, long bazaar by the time the 21st century arrived.
Towards the eastern end of the ridge squats Sisters’ Bazaar. This is where the Prakash family runs a store called A. Prakash & Co. I happened to be there the day a customer walked into the store, looked around at the spread of homemade pickles, jams, preserves, peanut butter, and cheese, and turning to his wife, exclaimed: ‘Our friends were right! If they don’t have it, you don’t need it! ’
Next door, bursting at the seams is the media-influencer-fuelled Landour Bakehouse. On a busy day, it attracts a thousand visitors, many of whom want a selfie to prove they were there!
Though Barlowganj suffered badly in the Kangra Earthquake of 1905, as the Tivoli Garden lost its grand pavilion. Further afield, the tremors hit the clock in the steeple of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Kulri bazaar which made a local wit to burst into doggerel:
The Kulri clock has had a shock,
Enough to knock it off its block.
And make it rock – ah!’
Hanhart and Betchler both have tried
To titivate its shocked inside
So now they have called Fisher
The watchmaker and undertak – er!’
Mr. Hanhart and Mr. Bechtler were both proprietors of jewellery and watch repair establishments. Of course, the doggerel makes no secret of Mr. Fisher’s many accomplishments. Just the other day, Sabri the Antique dealer on the slope called me into his shop. He beamed with pride showing me a Swiss-made pocket watch imprinted with the legend of Calcutta and Mussoorie on its dial.
Are there more secrets waiting to be revealed? Your guess is as good as mine.
Ganesh Saili born and home-grown in the hills belongs to those select few whose words are illustrated by their own pictures. Author of two dozen books; some translated into twenty languages, his work has found recognition worldwide.
