There is no fun in getting to Dehradun anymore. The regular highway – NH 58 – that leads to the much-advertised hillside valley town is a reckless, discouraging one. It is infested with trucks, buffalo carts in the sugarcane belt, and civilization inching each year a bit closer, a bit over and, finally, all around what is expected to be a national highway. And people! Too many of them, at all times and at all the wrong places.
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A place of hidden unexpected delights for visitors who’ve tuned down expectations of small town India (especially small ‘hill destinations’). It is places like Dehradun that are destined to carry the weight of urban India which routinely swoops down upon its fragile eco-system every summer to rid itself of its staleness and desperation. As Ruskin Bond puts it – ‘Our trees still grow in Dehra’ - hopes and dreams still stir in this valley that is reluctantly parting with its green complexion with every passing year.
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