Driving up to the Kasaradevi temple, my taxi driver casually announced, “ Wahan, Angrej log baste hain. Hippies, madam !” Envisioning a ‘Hare Rama Hare Krishna’ scenario, I climbed up the hill, in anticipation, to the entrance of the temple adorned with brass bells of different sizes. After paying obeisance to the Goddess looking resplendent in white marble, I climbed further up to the summit. I found myself in front of another temple, this one dedicated to Lord Shiva. A sign there indicated the temple had been built in the 6th Century and that Swami Vivekananda had meditated here. I looked around, soaking in the majestic aerial view of the town below, and noticed that there wasn’t a single soul around. My family and I were the only ones there.

Binsar is a place you could spend a day, or 10, lead an idyllic life, smell the aromatic pine trees as you walk in the woods, listen to the song birds as you explore the hills, or just bask in the panoramic view of the Himalayas. There are no nudging crowds, no gushing honeymooners and no hankering guides here.

A quiet town, Binsar is nestled between the Himalayas and the Jhandi Dhar hills in Uttarakhand. The road to Binsar takes you through a veritable bucolic wonderland. Steep ravines cradle lean adolescent streams that wait for the monsoon to blossom into buxom rivers. And glimpses of the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas tantalise you along unending meandering roads that test the endurance of your innards.

The view point for the Himalayas, best viewed early morning, lies within the Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary. A sinuous drive up the steep slopes of the Jhandi Dhar hill range and a short trek brings one to Zero Point, 8,000 feet above sea level. Our twinkle-eyed, nimble-footed guide Puran Singh, described the flora and fauna of the sanctuary, or rather of what was left of it. Once rich with animals such as bears and pandas, forest fires and poaching had led to the decline of wildlife, leaving behind only a few species such as deer, foxes and leopards.

As we trudged our way up, trying not to slip over the carpet of dried leaves from the rhododendron and oak trees, we heard the alarm call of a barking deer alerting us to the presence of a leopard. We stopped and waited in silence, hoping to catch sight of it, but no such luck! So, we hurried up to Zero Point to catch a clear sight of the snow peaks, before the morning fog obscured our view.

At Zero Point, a gazebo-like structure welcomed us. As the snow-capped peaks of the Nanda Devi range hove into view, a sense of tranquility fell upon us. Watching the Himalayas reposed in their stoic stance, I couldn’t help wonder what secrets and stories they carried in their bosom. I stood there transfixed by their beauty and calm, until clouds moving gently upwards, settled on the peaks, as if they had reached their home.

On the morning of our last day, I set out for my first-ever bird-watching venture. The black-crested Himalayan bulbul, with its short whistle-like song, played hide and seek, flying in and out of trees. Verditer flycatcher, a pretty little bird with blue-green plumage, jungle babbler, a small grey bird popularly known as ‘seven sisters’ because they move around in groups of seven, parakeets and woodpeckers were among the many birds we saw.

Trekking back through terraced fields, we came across villagers threshing bundles of wheat. One of them greeted us, enquiring where we came from and how we liked Binsar. “ Wapas zaroor aayega ,” he said as we moved on.

A few hours later, we found ourselves heading towards Kathgodam railway station . As I glanced back over my shoulder to take one last picture of the snowy mountains, a cold wind rustled through the open window of the taxi and a bulbul somewhere nearby started to sing its morning hymn. I knew then that I would come back someday.

Binsar is nestled between the Himalayas and the Jhandi Dhar hills in Uttarakhand.