THE RINK, MUSSOORIE

The picture, largely in red, and the caption in Times of India, "Inferno Reduces Hilly Icon To Ashes" caught my attention. It further said that a fire broke out in a hotel in Mussoorie in which "The Rink", 'an iconic 19th century heritage building was reduced to ashes....It had once housed Asia's largest wooden skating rink.'

That brought back memories of my visits to The Rink Hotel. The first was in 1949 when Masarji was commanding the 5th Gorkha Rifles in Dehradun and Mansi invited Mummy and me, age 10, to spend the summer holidays with them. We went up to Mussoorie for a week and visited the Hotel a few times. Then in 1965, I visited Mussoorie with the National Defence College team and found time to skate in The Rink. My final visit was in June 1995, when I took Mummy, Akhila and the kids to the hill station to escape the simmering Delhi summer for a while. This time, aging bones dictated that I stay away from skating and let Ruchir and Shumita indulge in the sport.

But the predominant memory is one of 1949. On an evening out, we went to the The Rink and I was introduced to the art of roller skating. I indulged in it for about an hour and loved it.

The next afternoon, I asked Mummy to take me skating again. The Hotel was more than 4 kms. from where we were staying, too far to go walking. Mummy was more keen on her siesta than to venture out looking for a rickshaw, the only transport available. So she firmly declined while I kept on insisting on going. She got into bed and I walked out saying I was headed for The Rink, come what may, hoping she would be forced to follow.

After I had walked a bit, I turned around to see whether Mummy was following me. That is when things went wrong. As Mummy told me later, she had just stepped out to see where I was. When she saw me turning, she thought I was coming back and went back to bed. On the other hand, when I saw her out in the open, I reckoned she was following me! 

Smug in my belief that my pressure tactics had worked, I resumed my march to The Rink. I reached the bend where the Mall Road began and stopped for Mummy to catch up but she was nowhere in sight. To make matters worse, it started to rain. There was a small bandstand by the roadside and I took shelter in it.

Now I was worried and at a loss wondering what to do. How long would it rain, should I go back to the house, although there was only one road but the house was a little off it and what if I missed it in poor visibility? I was also beginning to dread thoughts of the reception I might get on my return! Worry, worry, worry, and panic had started to creep in.

Just then, I saw a rickshaw with a lady partly hidden under an umbrella. As it passed the bandstand, I realised the lady was Mummy and ran after the rickshaw shouting for her. The rickshaw puller finally heard me and allowed me to catch up. I got into the rickshaw and a chilly silence prevailed between Mummy and me. She must have given the rickshaw puller directions earlier because he headed for The Rink and dropped us there. Mummy finally broke the silence telling me, “Go and skate.”

Spoilt kid? Perhaps.