Mishap at Mussoorie
MISHAP AT MUSSOORIE Prologue: At the cocktail hour, when the parky mountain breeze brushes against the undraped skin and the sky attains a mauve tinge, sheets of mist hide the huge mountains under them. As the mist clears, the lush green Doon Valley becomes visible and the distant snow-capped Himalayan peaks come into view. The June Sun plays over them, darkening some peaks on one side and striking a pinkish spell over some peaks on the other side. Standing in the balcony of Orchid Lodge at Lal Tibba, I could not deny that “Mussoorie is the queen of hill stations”. Watching the sun playing hide and seek behind the mountains and casting myriad tones of colours on the white canvas from the nature’s palette is no less than viewing Paradise on earth. Anaysha had locked herself up in the hotel room and I had no wish to disturb her when we were in the penultimate stage of the case. I began watching the mountains in the distance. Rain came in that long distance, pouring, in blue streaks,...