Under the Viceroyalty of John Lawrence, in 1864, Shimla was officially declared the summer capital of India. The government and its many minions would shift every April to Shimla from the winter capital (which was first Calcutta and1911 onwards, Delhi). During the sojourn at Shimla—which would last till October or even November—the government would actually rule, from its base at Shimla, over a staggering one-fifth of mankind, all the way from Aden to Burma!

Today, Shimla’s the capital of the state of Himachal Pradesh, and its main attractions are those from its past. Walk the paths and roads weaving through the seven hills—Observatory, Summer, Elysium, Jakhoo, Prospect, Inverarm and Bantony—and you’ll see plenty of lovely old colonial buildings. The Mall, up Observatory Hill, has some of the main sights: Christ Church, the Gaiety Theatre, the Band Stand, Gorton Castle, the Railway Board Building, and St Michael’s Cathedral. On Inverarm Hill is the Oberoi Cecil Hotel, a fine heritage building in its own right, and beyond it, at the top of Inverarm Hill, is the Himachal State Museum. Near Inverarm, on Summer Hill, are two more sights: the Himalayan Bird Park, an aviary with some magnificent Himalayan pheasants; and Viceregal Lodge, now the Indian Institute of Advance Study, Shimla’s most imposing and historic building.

For a change of scene and pace, go down to the valley of Annadale, either for a quiet picnic at the Glen en route, or to see the Army Heritage Museum at Annadale. Shimla also has its fair share of Hindu temples: Sankat Mochan, Tara Devi and the Hanuman Temple on Jakhoo Hill, which are thronged by devotees.

Quick Tips:

Other than that, make sure you carry an umbrella just about always. Shimla’s weather is notoriously undependable; it can be bright and sunny one moment, with clouds gathering the next and the rain coming down. Also note that, as in the hills all across northern India, in Shimla too rain means a sudden dip in the temperature. Wear layered clothing (even in the summer, when it’s good to carry along a light jacket or a shawl) and don or doff layers according to how hot it gets.

Shimla, unfortunately, is home to a lot of Rhesus macaques, and they can be dangerous if you’re not careful. Never carry exposed food—a loaf of bread or a bag of fruit is sure to invite an attack from a monkey—and if you should come across a monkey, ignore it. You might also want to carry a walking stick or large, rolled-up umbrella to ward off an attack.

A last tip: make a list of what you want to see, and then consult a map to chalk out your itinerary. Shimla’s attractions spread out so far and wide that if you don’t have a clear idea of where you’re going, you could walk miles and tire yourself out without actually achieving very much. Incidentally, the Mall area has a number of maps of Shimla. These vary as far as effectiveness is concerned; the one at Gorton Castle Square is probably the best.

Best Way To Get Around:

There are a couple of minor alternatives in some cases. If, for instance, you have a baby with you and no pram, you could actually hire a pram on the Mall and use it instead of lugging the baby around. I don’t know if I’d advise it, though; all the prams I noticed looked distinctly grubby. I wouldn’t risk a kid of mine contracting an infection from one of those! Also, if you wish, (though this is more as an experience than a transport option), ponies are available for rides between the Mall and Lakkar Bazaar. The animals are, by and large, smelly and emaciated, so again not an option I’d recommend.

Lastly, one option that does make sense: the lift from near the Bus Stand, up to the top of the Mall. This helps avoid the long and taxing climb up to the Mall and so is a great way to save time and energy. Incidentally, the more busy parts of town do have taxis, mainly jeep-like vehicles with yellow number plates. Some have permits to ply even in pedestrian-only zones: check with drivers.

Note that if you have your own car, you can drive till Ambedkar Square and park there before walking up to the Mall. Other parts of Shimla, including Inverarm Hill, Summer Hill and Annadale, are approachable by car.

Ah, I thought. It was a little expensive—Rs 2,200 per night for a double room isn’t exactly cheap—but maybe it would be worth it. We were going to stay three nights in Shimla, and as the 2,200 room was available only for two nights, I upgraded to a Rs 5,300 room for the last night.

Having paid up that much, we’d expected Peterhoff to be at least as lovely as Kasauli’s Ros Common. The truth, therefore hit hard. Much harder, and below the belt too.

First of all, there was the fine print I hadn’t read. The original Peterhoff—the colonial hotel—had burnt down in 1981; the current structure is a new monstrosity built in 1991. Secondly, the day we checked in was also the day when a huge Hindu religious convention was being held at the Peterhoff. Hundreds of devotees thronged the hotel ground outside our room, singing loudly, clapping, giving speeches and generally creating enough noise to make it impossible to even think clearly.

Our room proved a further disaster. It was large, but everything from the carpet to the lighting was dingy and decrepit. The luggage rack had slats missing, and the paint had peeled down to the plaster in the vestibule. The furniture—sofa, table, desk with chair, TV cabinet, bedside tables and double bed—was worn and scarred, with dust settled into the grooves. The carpet was clearly patchwork and had stains, as did the bedspread. One of the bedside lamps didn’t have a bulb, and the lighting in the room was far from adequate. The bathroom was better, but not much. No bathtub, but buckets and mugs—and a shower. Clean towels and free soap, thankfully. The second room—which we shifted to after the first two nights—was larger, better lit and with more fancy carved furniture, all painted white. The bathroom had a bathtub too. Not luxurious, though.

The Peterhoff’s facilities are somewhat limited: central heating, laundry, banquet halls, a restaurant, and room service. The restaurant and room service had Indian, Chinese and Continental on the menu, but we stuck with Indian. The food was okay, nothing to write home about, but the service was appalling. The waiters—except for the more experienced ones, who were few and far between—were completely clueless about the menu and spent most of their time rushing around like headless chickens.

Final verdict? Awful place. Do not stay at the Peterhoff.

The Restaurant’s a multicuisine restaurant, serving a mix of Indian (north Indian and Mughlai) and Continental food. The Oberoi Cecil is a smart hotel, very polished and with just the right combination of colonial heritage and modern luxury. The Restaurant, down in the second basement, is wood-panelled, with oriel windows down one side offering splendid views of the glittering lights of Shimla. The chairs are deep, the tablecloths pristine, the prints and photographs of colonial Shimla original. This is an expensive place, and looks it.

A large basket of assorted rolls is placed on our table, along with chilled butter. We examine the menu, flipping swiftly past the Indian dishes—though the kababs do sound delicious—and move on to the Continental section. The burgers and sandwiches we aren’t interested in; instead, both of us end up ordering the Kullu Valley rainbow trout with lemon Pernod butter. A mouthful of a name, but what an amazing dish. Each whole fish comes (as per our request) deboned and pan-seared; steamed is also an option. The skin is deliciously crisp, and where the spine of the fish should have been is a row of aromatic fresh basil leaves. Along with the trout comes a somewhat-less-than-generous serving of the lemon Pernod butter, very buttery and lemony indeed, though I must admit the Pernod isn’t exactly prominent as a flavour. The fish is perfectly done, flaky and moist. On the side are cherry tomatoes and sautéed veggies: broccoli, potatoes, courgettes.

We also order a wine—a Sauvignon Blanc. It’s perhaps a little too dry for me, but tastes good with the fish.

For dessert, both Tarun and I order the warm caramelized apple crumble tart. This is a square tart with a very light pastry base, heaped with delicious baked apples and a crisp, buttery crumble on top. The tart comes with two accompaniments: a cinnamon ice cream, creamy and beautifully fragrant with cinnamon; and blueberry reduction. The latter’s a bit of a laugh: just three tiny blueberries, so miniscule that I actually don’t notice them among the garnishes on the plate. But, despite that, the dessert itself is delicious.

Our final bill comes to Rs 3,340, and we add on a further Rs 500 as a tip. Expensive, yes; but The Restaurant is soothing and lovely; the food is excellent; and the staff polite, friendly, well-informed, extremely efficient and helpful. Worth the money.

Till 1888, India’s Viceroys stayed at the Peterhoff when visiting Shimla. Lord Dufferin decided he didn’t like the Peterhoff (if it was anything like it is now, I’m not surprised). He therefore got Henry Irwin to design and build, in a neo-Renaissance-Baronial Scottish style, the imposing grey stone building that was subsequently named Viceregal Lodge. From 1888 (when it was completed) till 1947, this was the summer residence of the Viceroys and Governors General. During the tumultuous years of 1945-7, it was the venue for numerous conferences to decide India’s future. Eventually, the country’s partition—into India and Pakistan—was signed here.

After that, known as Rashtrapati Niwas, it became the summer residence of Indian Presidents—until 1965, when it was handed over to the Ministry of Education. Ever since, it’s been a prestigious institute for higher studies, where fellowships for residential studies in the humanities and social sciences are awarded.

Having bought our tickets, we join a group of other visitors and are ushered into the main hall. This is a breathtaking chamber, three stories high (we can see the balconies around the top) and paneled from ceiling to floor in glowing warm Burma teak, lightly and elegantly carved. The docent, a soft-spoken young lady, tells us the history of the building in a mix of Hindi and English. The firefighting system, electricity and waterworks, all installed in 1888, are explained, and we’re shown a glimpse of the huge library (housed in the Ball Room and Banquet Hall—and with the original Belgian glass chandeliers still in use). The furniture’s original, the vases crowded with flowers.

We next go to the Visitors’ Waiting Room. The ceiling here has a pattern of stars carved in Kashmir walnut wood. The highlight of this room is the small round table where the Partition was signed.

Next door is a small museum, with photographs and portraits of the occupants of, and visitors to, the Viceregal Lodge over the years. There are impressive old pictures of the Viceroys—one fine picture, from 1864-5, shows John Lawrence and his colleagues. There are also photos from the historic Shimla Conference of 1945, and pictures of Viceregal Lodge as it used to be.

Outside, clipped lawns and well-maintained gardens spread out, crisscrossed by gravel paths. The wide borders are crowded with peonies, poppies, delphiniums, roses, candytuft, Californian poppies, cornflowers, and more, all growing under the shade of deodars. It really does look like something out of England; I’m not surprised the Viceroys liked it here!

Viceregal Lodge is open from 9.15 to 5 through the year, up to 7 between May and July. Lunch is between 1 and 2, so no entry’s allowed during this time. Tickets cost Rs 20 per adult (Indians; foreigners pay Rs 50). No photography is allowed within the building, but you’re welcome to take pictures outside and in the surrounding gardens.

In the mid-19th century, a decision was taken to build a church, the construction being supervised by Colonel J.T. Boileau (after whom Shimla’s Boileauganj is named). The first corner stone of the church was laid in 1844, and Boileau’s team toiled over the next twelve years, creating a neo-Gothic structure made primarily of stone and brick with lime mortar. On 10 January 1857, the Bishop of Calcutta consecrated the church. Three years later, in 1860, stained glass windows were added.

The visitors’ entrance of the church is on the side. A sign in the vestibule requests us to remove our shoes, so we comply and enter. The white-painted interior is spacious, the high sloping ceiling panelled in dark wood, with crossbeams across the body of the church. At the back is a baptismal font, and suspended above, a wood-panelled choir loft.

Modern stained glass windows with a pattern of flowers and crucifixes stretch along the left. On the right are three of the loveliest stained glass windows I’ve seen in northern India. All have biblical themes. One, for instance, depicts the virtues: Faith, Hope, Charity, Patience, Fortitude and Humility, all shown as saints holding coats of arms, though Hope holds the Lamb of God in her arms. Above the high altar is another panel of stained glass, depicting Christ in heaven, with the saints and angels in attendance.

I may be a bit morbid, but I like reading the memorial plaques in churches. Christ Church has its fair share, almost all polished brass plaques dedicated to civil servants, soldiers, and other prominent men who served in British India. There are plaques to women—a baroness included—but the men outnumber them.

We’re ready to leave, when I decide to go to the small chapel on the right of the high altar. Just a whim—and worth it, I realise. The chapel’s ordinary, but the floor in front is a floral mosaic of old tiles in cream, red and black. Stunning.

And one last bit of quaint historicity: the pews right at the front have little brass plates screwed in at the ends. The plate on the first pew reads H.E The Viceroy. The one on the second reads H.E. The Commander in Chief. Both plates are highly polished. I wonder who sits there now!

This is an amazingly lovely church; do visit— it’s worth the trek up the Mall.

The main attraction here is the Army Heritage Museum. This is a small museum housed in a slope-roofed bungalow with wooden floors and ceilings with thick beams. The terrace in front is dotted with artillery guns and stone plaques extolling the Indian army and Himachal.

The museum’s main gallery—where you enter—is a hotchpotch. It discusses the Arthshastra, an ancient Indian treatise on war and military; it lists India’s Chiefs of Army Staff; it describes the lives of Indian warriors like Tipu Sultan, Shivaji, and Lakshmibai. There are also verbose descriptions of warfare and military strategy in Indian mythology.

The gallery on the right focuses on weaponry: here are old battle axes and armour, racks of guns from around the world, daggers and other weapons. The next section’s divided into two. One’s about the UN Peacekeeping role of the Army. The other’s about the role of the Army in sports (the Army invariably sends sportspersons as part of the Indian contingent to the World Military Games, Commonwealth Games, Asian Games and Olympics). There are some medals here, photographs and more verbosity.

On the other side of the main gallery is a section on uniforms. Mannequins dressed in traditional uniforms—dress and combat—are arrayed here, along with interesting information on the history of uniforms in the Army. There are also some delightful pictures here; one of a British officer in long, swirling coat, is an obvious example of a uniform that must’ve been a hindrance on the battlefield.

Next is a section on military bands, with musical instruments and photos of bands displayed. There are other photographs here, mainly of 19th and early 20th century Indian officers. One’s of a youthful Gentleman Cadet Sam Maneckshaw (a word of explanation here: Sam’s a living legend in India; he was one of independent India’s first Army Chiefs and a very colourful character). There are also copies of some historic documents: the order of execution of Mangal Pandey (a leader of the 1857 Mutiny), and the agreement by which India and Pakistan were split into two countries.

Beyond that is a little section about the role of the Army in scientific discovery. Especially in the days of the British Raj, military men like Lt. Colonel Tickell, Major Jerdon and General Hardwicke painstakingly documented plants, birds and animals across India.

Overall, this isn’t a great museum. The exhibits are ordinary, the labeling often boring and wordy. What does redeem it is that it’s clean and well-maintained, and the setting’s lovely. There’s no entry fee for the museum. Do also visit the small (also free) Cactus House next door. This is a glasshouse with some very fine cacti and succulents.

The aviary is a domed, greenhouse-like structure with the roof made of solid netting. Inside, bamboo, hibiscus and other shrubs grow all across a couple of terraces. It’s really quite small; the entire aviary is only about the length of a bus. Concrete structures—a curved bridge, steps, kennel-like bird houses, and other similar items—stand here and there in the aviary.

We buy our tickets at the main door (entry costs Rs 5 per adult and Rs 2 per child; you’re charged an additional Rs 15 and Rs 50 respectively for still and video cameras) and are instructed to go through the net door leading from the ticket booth into the aviary. We step through and are immediately assailed by the rather strong smell of guano. Pretty lethal!

We go on doggedly, stepping down to the narrow `corridor’ along the lower length of the aviary. This section has a series of display cases containing badly stuffed specimens of Himalayan mammals: brown bear, snow leopard, ibex, hog deer, musk deer, and so on. Most depressing.

On our right, the bulk of the aviary stretches upward, and some muffled sounds soon alert us to the resident birds.

As we watch, a delicate silver pheasant, splendidly attired in pristine white and black feathers, steps around a hibiscus and stares enquiringly at us, its bright crimson wattles in startling contrast to its sober plumage. A few steps further, and we come across a trio of red jungle fowl, looking like highly coloured cousins of farmyard roosters. Beyond them, a gaggle of geese honk madly as they drink water from an aluminium vessel placed under a thicket of bamboo. A little flock of sparrows flies by, chirruping loudly.

We poke around quietly a bit, hoping to see some more birds—and we are rewarded, amply. A kaleej pheasant, all dark inky blue and black, with a fluffy white breast and a crest of white on its head, appears and poses prettily for us. And we also manage to see the aviary’s star: a Himalayan monal pheasant, absolutely breathtaking in an array of iridescent colours, its feathers turquoise and navy on its wings, rust, orange and red on its neck, and green on its head. This is a stunner of a bird, and we gawp unashamedly till it decides to curl up on a ledge and go to sleep.

The Himalayan Bird Park doesn’t live up to its name. But the three species of resident pheasants—silver, kaleej and monal—are reason enough to visit: they’re gorgeous.

Begin at the Oberoi Cecil at Chaura Maidan, then walk on up to the intersection of the Mall and the road to Annadale; from there, take the left fork, which leads upward beside the Vidhan Sabha (the Legislative Assembly) to the Mall. Walk up the Mall, right till the end for a glimpse of some of Shimla’s loveliest old buildings. The main buildings you’ll see along this route, in chronological order, are:

The Oberoi Cecil: The Oberoi Cecil Hotel began life as a colonial bungalow called Tendrils, where Rudyard Kipling stayed on his first visit to Shimla in 1883. Tendrils was subsequently (in 1902) taken over by a hotelier, added to and renovated. It is today part of the Oberoi Group of Hotels, and was renovated in the last decade. The main building has lovely turret-like `towers’ with sloping green roofs and white walls with green painted wrought iron grilles. The annex next door is a green-roofed red brick building picked out in wooden beams, with picturesque chimneys along the top.

Gorton Castle: One of the loveliest buildings on the Mall, Gorton Castle stands tall at the end of a short but steep lane flanked by deodars. Gorton Castle was built mainly during the 1800’s, and was named in 1840 for its owner Gorton, an officer of the Indian Civil Service (ICS). A subsequent owner, James Walker, toyed with the idea of converting Gorton Castle into a hospital, but wasn’t permitted to do so across the entire building. The Indian government eventually acquired the building in 1900 for the sum of Rs 1,20,000. Over the next four years, at a cost of Rs 11,00,000 (a huge sum in those days), Gorton Castle was converted into the Imperial Civil Secretariat. Today, it houses the office of the Accountant General and (post restoration in 2001-3) is a stunning building, in grey-brown stone, with a red roof. Closer up, you can see gables, carved stone screens, floral medallions and arches: a pleasing combination of Gothic and Rajasthani-Mughal architecture.

The Railway Board Building: Although the Railway Board does occupy part of this huge building, there are plenty of other important government offices and departments here, including the Income Tax office, the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), the Central Public Works Department (CPWD) and the Passport Office. With red `towers’ at each corner, the Railway Board Building was built in 1896-7 by a Bombay firm called Richardson and Cruddas. The government bought over the building and having demolished it, constructed the present structure in the early 1900’s. The most unusual feature of the building is that its façade has a lot of decorative and structural elements in cast iron and steel.

The BSNL Building: Bharat Sanchar Nigam Limited (BSNL) in Shimla is appropriately housed in a building that was once a telegraph office and later the home of one of the world’s first automatic telephone exchanges. The BSNL building is a striking red one, the windows picked out in deep green and the lower half of the façade covered in grey stone. Walking up the Mall from the Railway Board Building, you’ll see the road slope up to the BSNL building on the left and a curious domed structure, the beginning of a series of shops, on the right.

The site where the BSNL building stands was originally occupied by a house called Conny Cot; by 1886, Conny Cot had made way for the telegraph office, which was demolished in 1922 to make the present building. Incidentally, the construction of this building drew plenty of flak; people felt its expenses were unwarranted given the post-war poverty in India. The building, however, is an interesting one, with foundations specially wired to help protect against seismic shocks. The corner stone on the west of the building has a Latin inscription that reads: Molem aedificii multi construxerunt : rationem exegit I. Begg. ("Many men created the work of this stone building: the work was directed by J. Begg.)". Do note the excellent ashlar stone work along the lower half of the building; it’s a fine example of a building style in which each stone is specially cut and shaped to occupy a particular position in the design.

The Municipal Corporation Building, Gaiety Theatre and the Band Stand: I’m discussing these three buildings all in one go, because they stand cheek by jowl, and are almost contiguous. Coming from the BSNL building, the first of these three buildings you’ll see is the Municipal Corporation Building. In dark grey stone, this was built exactly a century ago, in 1908. It’s a fine building, in very good condition, but the side you’ll see here is actually the back of the building. To see the front, descend the flight of steps between the Municipal Corporation Building and the next.

The Gaiety Theatre used to be the heart of Shimla’s night life in the good old days, with patrons including stalwarts like Rudyard Kipling, Robert Baden-Powell (of boy scouts fame) and the stormy Indian artist Amrita Shergil. The theatre still hosts plays, but is right now being renovated and is off limits for visitors. The sloping slate-tiled roof is worth looking up at, though—it’s a typical feature of Himachal architecture.

Next to the Gaiety Theatre, and with a similar slate-tiled roof (this one’s conical) is what used to be called the Band Stand. The Band Stand was gifted to the people of Shimla by a Kanwar Jivan Das of Jabalpur in 1907. Since the promenade in front was a popular venue for parades and other celebrations—especially for occasions like the King’s birthday—the Band Stand was very appropriately situated. It’s today divided into two restaurants, Ashiana and Goofa, both run by Himachal Tourism.

The State Library Building: Although it tends to get a bit overshadowed by the dazzling creamy magnificence of its neighbour, the Christ Church, this is a delightful little building too. The State Library stands on the left of the church, a red-roofed stone building, its upper storey in white with dark wooden beams. According to the plaque outside, this is a neo-Tudor style, "with sections of the structural woodwork left decoratively exposed." Reminds me of all the pictures I’ve seen of Swiss chalets. The State Library building dates back to 1860 and has been, along the years, home to the Simla Volunteer Corps, the Health Department, the station and the Municipal Library.

The Christ Church: Next to the State Library is the Christ Church, consecrated in 1857 and the first proper church in Shimla. The church is best known for its exquisite stained glass windows, both above the high altar and all along the right of the church. Do also walk up to the chapel on the right, to see the lovely old floor tiles here. The first two pews still have polished brass plates designating these as the family pews of the Viceroy and the Commander in Chief respectively.