I remember Simla

I remember the first visit to Simla, a city, in the Himalayan mountains. It was winter. I was four years old and my brother was three. In winter there was snow all around and the majestic peaks were snow capped. My mother said, “Do you know the word Himalaya is a Sanskrit word. Him means snow and Alaya means home. Those peaks we saw in the distance are covered with snow all year round.”
This dream trip to Simla from Delhi began when, at night, we boarded a fast train to Kalka called, naturally, Kalka mail. We went to sleep in the compartments on the train that were furnished with sleeping berths. Our servant spread our bedding that we carried with us. In winter it consisted of a cotton stuffed mattress and quilt that we brought from home all rolled into a khaki canvass hold-all that was tied together with leather straps and had thick leather handle to carry it with. when we woke up we arrived at Kalka, a city, in the foothills of Himalayas.
We then had to walk to the other side of the station over the foot bridge where the railcar waited for us. This was a cross between an old fashioned fifteen seat automobile and a train. It had a gasoline engine, but wheels that went over the narrow gauge train tracks. There was no room for any bags except carry-on and the first class passengers. This was one of the perks my father got as an Indian railway officer. Hence our baggage came separately on a passenger steam train with our servants and other staff that worked for my father.
The trip was spectacular as we steadily climbed from about five hundred feet to 7000 feet through some of the most spectacular country. In the higher mountains the farms were in the form of terraces in which villagers planted rice, wheat, and other grains. We loved to see apple, orange, and peach trees which were so different from the mango, tamrind, guava, and neem trees in the plains.
The temperature got steadily colder as we reached snow level, my mother would bring out our sweaters and coats. But for the life of me I cannot remember either the color or the texture of my coat. Although I am sure it was of pure wool as there were no synthetics available then. My mother had knitted us sweaters, woolen caps, and scarves that were called mufflers in British English. She had a black woolen coat on which she had embroidered beautiful red and gold mirror work on the pockets and around the neck and the front lapel. It had big black buttons on the front that went through the loop on the other side.
I remember so clearly there were 99 tunnels through which we went. My brother and I counted them with my mother while my father stayed busy with the paper work from his office. Half way to Simla we stopped at a rest house where we ate hot lunch and used the rest rooms.
The Simla station was a small one that curved around. The place we stayed was the railway guest house just above the station. My mother supervised the caretaker giving him money to go to the store and get provisions. There were no automobiles allowed in the city. We had to walk everywhere.
One day we went for a long walk. My mother had bought a wooden board with a curved bottom that she pulled as a sled on the snow. When we got tired she would let us ride on it. However as it was heavy and she had to be sure she didn’t slip on the ice underfoot, she only let us ride if she was convinced we couldn’t hack it. My brother, being younger, was luckier in this respect.