AMONG THE HILLS AND CLOUDS: KURSEONG
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Nishi Pulugurtha
What could be more wonderful than being woken up every morning by the hooting of the toy train chugging its way from the plains of New Jalpaiguri to the queen of hill stations,
Kurseong was ceded to the British by the King of Sikkim in 1835. The town gained prominence in 1880, when the Darjeeling-Himalayan Railway was extended to Kurseong. Situated at an altitude of about 4,860 ft, Kurseong is 33 km from
Kurseong is often referred to as the school town due to the presence of innumerable schools. Like the other hill stations within the District of Darjeeling, Kurseong has its fair share of renowned schools established during the British Rule in
Tea Pickers, Kurseong
The journey from New Jalpaiguri to Kurseong is beautiful. As we leave the plains and begin the ride uphill, there is a distinct change in temperature, the heat and humidity gives way to a very pleasant weather. As our vehicle takes a turn on the meandering hill roads we get to see the plains of Siliguri and the river basin of the
Kurseong Railway Station
The quaint little town of
St. Marys Grotto
Nearly 4 kilometers from Kurseong Railway Station in an elegant mansion in the deep woods of St. Mary's Hill, the Eastern Forest Rangers' College (EFRC). Earlier the campus was the sight of St. Mary's seminary, the first such seminary of the east of
The
It was to Kurseong that Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose was sent for his internship in 1936. The house that he stayed, at Giddapahar, a few kilometers from Kurseong, has been restored and is now a museum dedicated to Netaji.
The monsoon endows the place with a different aura. For most of the day there is a drizzle, often increasing in intensity. The clouds hinder vision and most of the view points offer nothing this time of the year. But, nevertheless, there is a charm to this place even during the rains. At Eagles Craig, for instance, I get to see nothing of what this view point usually affords as the entire place is enveloped in a thick cloud cover and it almost seems that I am all alone in this world and nothing else exists. The dense white clouds add a surreal charm to this place. As I descend from the Craig the narrow road leads past tea gardens where I see tea pickers deftly at work, a little way down I come across school children practicing for the Independence Day parade. The clouds, the chill, nothing seems to matter as life goes on here in this small town. The rain, the clouds, the cold makes me understand very clearly as to why the Englishman found the hills so very reminiscent of home.

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