Nuwara Eliya, a place in your imagination

Visiting Nuwara Eliya after a considerable lapse of time, I had almost forgotten how derelict the Nuwara Eliya town was. 

Held out in our tourist brochures as a pristine holiday resort in a pleasant and picturesque hill country, you begin to wonder whether you are a victim of a hoax the minute you hit the ramshackle town. Old ugly buildings coated with soot, foul smelling drains, narrow roads jammed with motor vehicles impatiently sounding  their horns, smoke belching lorries loaded beyond capacity; the typical third world shanty town. 

And the endless mass -- ragged and undistinguished. So many bedraggled beggars, emaciated dogs and cats, waiting for a morsel. The people are, poor specimens -- underweight, slovenly and chaotic. There was a throng before the taverns, which sell only ‘arrack’ and beer. Loud Indian music emanates from the grubby eateries through the day. To avoid stepping on garbage and the spit on the pavements the visitor must have the sure feet of a ballet dancer. The visitor observes the streetside fruit stalls, the sight whets his imagination, luscious fruits  straight from nearby farms. But these are imported fruits, brought up in lorries from the Pettah Market in Colombo.

In the middle of Nuwara Eliya there is now a monstrosity of a hotel named after a low-country flower. An imposition so out of context (little England, English countryside!), it hurts! Until recently there was one little stretch of Nuwara Eliya which evoked a sense of the English countryside: the Grand Hotel Road, winding between a beautifully manicured golf course and imposing British era tourist hotels. Tall shade giving trees, lovingly created gardens, trotting ponies. The area was a green bliss, a tourist attraction, contrasting sharply with the urban ugliness of the town only a few yards away. Across the road from the General’s Bungalow and the Hill Club used to be a beautiful vegetable plot, growing cabbages and flowers. 

It is no longer there!

Ravi Perera