Among the many spooky places in India, Kurseong is one. Or is that a hype created by the locals, who are perhaps hand in glove with tourists & media?

We were keen to explore & lift the veil of mystery that cloaks the valley.

If you missed my post on Dow Hills & Forest, click on https://www.tra-verse.com/the-haunted-land-of-white-orchids-%f0%9f%98%b1/.

A little away from Dow Forest, lay more hoary edifices —all vestiges of British colonialism.

The chill in the air was palpable. 

And suddenly, shattering the silence, were sounds of jingling anklets! Was that a witch??🤔 Perhaps a ‘phantom of delight’! Nah! Nature had strapped a string of bells as anklets on saltating crickets & fireflies, & this woodnote became the incidental music in the wilderness.☺️ 

We drove through the black forest abounding in leviathans. Each time we paused to click, their talon-like boughs fell on our shoulders! It was indeed eerie!😱

The milky mist that puffed up every now & then —ruffling the foliage, sent shivers down the vines that had espaliered around the barks &, the ensuing susurration added to the mystery.

I wondered if the crunchy rustling of dead leaves below our feet would stir up a sleeping snake or rouse a bear on prowl. For, so deep & dense was the jungle.

We paused every now & then to feast our eyes, lock in the beauty on our lens, listen to the crickets & pick wild berries. We were lone rangers & luckily there wasn’t any vehicle following us. 

Suddenly, they emerged out of the smoky fug —ruddy & heaped. Even as I peered to catch a better glimpse, another wave of ashen mist enveloped the pile ensconced on the grassy glade.

We halted at a safe distance because no vehicle was allowed anywhere near the spot.

Soon, we came face to face with a hulking façade —done in grey stone & capped by red roofs.

Dow Hill School (New School)

Where were the pupils? Where were their preceptors? Even as we stood wondering, a few fallen leaves forced by the hands of a passing gale, came hurtling our way. Or was that the work of a fiend lurking in the grove?

The susurrating sounds of leaves & the eldritch din were so captivating, that I closed my eyes to recapture the scene in my headspace.

There was not a soul in sight. And….the halls of ivy seemed to echo with the sweet sounds of silence. The billowing mist served as time even as the monument stood stoic & mute to the vicissitudes of time.

We rambled gingerly, inspecting the purlieus. The school had closed for Pujo holidays. The formidable structure resembled a wonderland —pregnant with intriguing tales of twisted fates.

A flight of steps ran down —leading to perhaps some mysterious underground lair. A musty odour emanated from the dank moss-mantled walls. Far below, lay an open gate & I felt like Alice in Wonderland! I’d have ventured in, but for some unseen hands that forbade me from stepping any further.

Barring the stairs leading to ‘God knows where’, there was no other room that was accessible.

The school gates remained firmly shut & apart from a few strays & a grouchy lady who was perhaps the school janitor, we had nothing much to sight.

We drove down a few miles to Victoria Boys’ School, another place rumoured to be ‘haunted’! 

Apart from Indian sophomores, its alumni comprise boys from neighbouring Bangladesh & Nepal too. The kerb appeal seemed more arcane but unfortunately, a guard with a grim bearing, denied us entry. 

His surly & sombre temperament got us more curious. Why?? What was so bizarre about the place? What were the goings-on there? But we perforce had to retrace our steps. 

En route, we came across this dilapidated church.

A fire at the start of the 20^th century was supposed to have ruined part of the church after which the chapel continued to remain in a state of disrepair.

Kurseong Old Chapel

Yet, this elegiac ruin looked very appealing. I wondered how it would have been to have lived in that era…history & the past can be very, very fascinating. 

I tried peeping in through the broken panes. I couldn’t find much. So, I mentally conjured up sepia-tinted images of yesteryears that I’ve seen only in movies.

Haze & clouds had begun to bedim the skies. We knew we had to leave.

As we emerged out of the strange Xanadu, we were drenched by soft sunlight that streamed through the skies. 

Once again, well-manicured tea-gardens began to replace the deep dark silhouettes of trees. 

Yet, there was something very comforting about the forest. The woods were mystical, yet serene.

There was character, story, romance, depth & mystery in the enchanting woods. The understory was replete with backstories of star-crossed lovers, of witches & wizards, of cloak-and-dagger whodunits.

The forest had, like a blanket, wrapped me in its cool comfort. There was an unusual hygge & contentment about being in the magical woods. 

At one point, I felt like their confidante. At another, I felt vulnerable —wanting them to heed my pleas, comfort & heal me. I wasn’t out of the woods yet!

And when I stepped out of the wondrous woodland into the eyesome tea-gardens, I felt as if that sylvan blanket was yanked off my person. I suddenly felt bare & imperilled in the world of my own ilk!

We had dared to tear down the gossamer of mystery that shrouds this mysterious town; we had relished every bit of the therapeutic Shinrin-yoku. 🥰

How I wish this outlier would remain out of reach for most, so that it remains a hidden gem —virgin & pristine. And I hope this veil of enigma would continue to cocoon this ethereal fairyland..

Yes, I’ve brought this bewitching black magic to light (of course, I’m not the first to have) but I just couldn’t contain my joy & through this post I wish to relive the precious moments spent in this Edenic Elysium…🥰