Nainital, presently

A couple of splashes at some distance draw my ear, and a glimpse of the jagged, wet silhouettes that made those draw me complete into the moment. My anxieties over standing here at this secluded, dark part of the lake called 'Phaansi Gadhera' (translates to 'Suicide Creek') at the base of Ayarpata Hill are pushed back, as a greater primal emotion takes its place - one that makes me fearlessly (and yet noiselessly) climb onto one of the boats tied to the shore and sit down in my peace. I don't care about either the boatmen demanding my evacuation, or if the passerbys see me as some teenager loading up on vodka ("Its Frooti, Sir, not Finlandia," I could shout back), or if the odd pair of youth loitering about - who predate me in veneration of secret spot - bother me. The night breeze rocks the boats gently, thin waves draw concave lines across the surface of the lake, and I find myself a part of a dance that I hadn't asked for. Another splash in some distance, another fish catching another insect.

Not long ago, I had been staring into the modern dystopian Nainital from my seat on the hill opposite. The whole scene lay much like a panoramic panel in front of me. Being this far, the lights are actually appealing; being this far from the noise and the human commotion, its a more comforting experience. A power cut is all it took to transform the modern lakefront of this lake town into something from the lost past - the entire hill suddenly falls into darkness. The chain of hotels, with their power backup, make for a garland of lights running along the base of the hill. In the upper reaches, only a few scattered streetlights, and moving lights of a handful of cars, assert the human presence. The way this place grew - like all mountain destinations do - was settlements starting at the base, then creeping higher into the upper reaches. What that powercut did was to restrict the human line to represent the place as it'd have been 20 years back, much lesser tourist-crazy. Don't we all wish - in our ignorance - that everything stayed same way as in the past?

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