Up in the northern part of India, heat is at its zenith. We are now in the middle of May, and the intensity is only getting worse since it picked up early in April. And it starts well in the morning – by 7ish, the sun is well above the horizon, overhead, in fact, laying claim to everything in sight, and then pressing the heat button at its will. Gosh… I so wanted to hide away from its wrath.

I wasn’t sure how, given work and the everyday happenings that keep you tied to the base. Then I saw a small window in the middle of the week (the fag end of April) — just enough to quietly slip away without disturbing the mundane — and travel to the place where the heart has always belonged.

Timeline – End of April 2026 | Heading to Pahad (the mountains of Uttarakhand)

We got up early in the morning, and without much delay, were ready to leave for Nainital – the hill station that has been our go-to place ever since I studied there as a school-going student. The air outside still carried a slight spark of coolness, but it was only a matter of time before the day turned into a heatball. We had to be quick.  We crossed Rudrapur & Haldwani within an hour, another 10 minutes later, we were past Kathgodam, gaining altitude and easing into a far more welcoming climate.

Our first stop was Dogaon, roughly 10 kilometres ahead of Kathgodam, in the thick of forests, with the clear melodious chatter of birds, and some new and old shacks welcoming travellers. We stopped by for some seasonal fruits — strawberries and black mulberries(‘shehtoot’). Ever since I was a kid studying in Nainital, going up or down, we would stop here at any opportunity to check what the season’s offerings were. The place is now full of these roadside eateries, unlike in the past, when just 1–2 operated here.

After a brief stop, and subsequently inhaling the fresh morning air, we were on the road again. Another 20 minutes into the journey, we arrived at Jeolikote, a bustling town already in full morning rhythm, perched comfortably at about 1,200 metres, where the weather turns noticeably better, giving you a clear sense of what might unfold in Nainital. From here, Nainital feels within reach, you can actually trace a cluster of settlements on the hilltop.  The road distance is roughly 16 kms, and in the absence of traffic, just a 30–40-minute drive. Some years back, I hiked from Jeolikote to Nainital during the monsoon — you can explore that route here Click here if you’d like.

Arrival into Nainital, at the Tallital Daat, is always a dramatic one. You snake your way up from the plains, all the way up to 2,000 metres, navigating tricky hairpin bends and vertical cliffs, and suddenly, you are transported to this flat opening. In the blink of a second, your eyes capture the magnificence of this vast expanse of Naini Lake, shimmering bright in tones of yellow and gold under the summer sun, sandwiched perfectly between the 2 mountain slopes – Ayarpatta hill on the left, and Sher Ka Danda on the right. As if this were any less, you lean out of the window, and a gush of cool (and fresh) air rushes in, tantalising the senses – for a brief moment, the mountains have silently opened their arms and let you in.

We move along the busy, chaotic, noisy yet undeniably picturesque Mall Road, making our way from Tallital to Mallital. On one side, you see the numerous shops, hotels, incessant honking, and an array of taxiwallas calling out half-day/full-day tours, each promising a special price to cover several touristy points. Yet, on the other side, the lake continues to rule the scene, its quiet stillness seemingly untouched by the commotion around it. Oarsmen remain busy ferrying tourists who often seem more inclined to absorb nature through their phone screens than through their eyes. Meanwhile, shades of green from the slopes of Ayarpatta hill fall gently upon the lake’s surface, creating intricate patterns.

During our two-day stay, we had no particular agenda, no bucket list to tick off. We stayed close to the lake, near the Mallital end of the Mall Road. The noise outside was constant yet pleasantly muffled from our third-floor hotel room, which offered an uninterrupted view of Naini Lake. We spent hours watching its gentle waters ripple in the mountain breeze, while Ayarpatta Hill on the opposite side continued to change its colours through the day, shifting between countless hues of green as the sun moved across the sky.

We particularly enjoyed our walks, any time of the day, but the evening ones on the Thandi Sadak, which connects the Tibetan Market at Mallital to the Tallital end, were my favourite of all. It was relatively quieter here, along the edges of Naini Lake, slightly cooler too, as the sun was obscured from sight for much of the stretch, and here and there I would find some passersby, greeting them, exchanging gentle smiles, muffled hellos and goodbyes, and moving on.

Otherwise, this town has altered a lot. It is no longer easy to stroll through the busy market area (or the Mall Road) without being gently pulled in different directions by shopkeepers and street vendors, each trying their best to catch your attention. But it has its own fun, I believe. As I walked through these familiar streets, I found myself reminiscing about the time spent in Nainital, roughly 2.5 decades ago, as a school-going student.

I still remember our Saturday evening walks to the market area. Neeru’s Ban Tikki at Tallital  was a must-have, as were the momos at Sonam’s in the Tibetan Market. A visit to Modern Book & General stores to see what new things had arrived in Nainital was almost mandatory. And if somebody happened to have a few extra coins or notes, a pastry at Sakley’s was simply unmissable. Occasional trips to the Flats Ground were another highlight, where we would cheer for our football team as it took on the opposition in the inter-school football competition. And if we won, which we mostly did, the entire brigade would, like soldiers, walk down the Mall Road, and climb up the hill to St. Joseph’s, shouting aloud and letting the whole world know, “SEM has won”.

After 2 days of soaking in all that nature had to offer in Nainital, it was time to head back to our base and the realities of everyday life. On the return journey, we made a brief stop at Jeolikote, at Verma Jalpan Grah, a roadside eatery that has quietly withstood the passage of time. Not much has changed here, except that Verma Ji, the proud owner of this humble establishment, no longer runs it himself and now spends more time with his well-settled sons and their families.

Aha, the taste of boiled chana (black chickpeas) and the delicious Aloo ke Gutke, a local Kumaoni delicacy, hasn’t changed one bit. In a trip filled with memories, changing landscapes, and reflections on the passage of time, it was comforting to find that some things had remained exactly as I remembered them. With that reassuring thought, we resumed our remaining journey home.