Perched among peaks that loom over heat-shimmering plains, hill stations remain among the most curious monuments to the British colonial presence in India. In this engaging and meticulously researched study, Dane Kennedy explores the development and history of the hill stations of the raj. He shows that these cloud-enshrouded havens were sites of both refuge and surveillance for British sanctuaries from the harsh climate as well as an alien culture; artificial environments where colonial rulers could nurture, educate, and reproduce themselves; commanding heights from which orders could be issued with an Olympian authority.
Kennedy charts the symbolic and sociopolitical functions of the hill stations over the course of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, arguing that these highland communities became much more significant to the British colonial government than mere places for rest and play. Particularly after the revolt of 1857, they became headquarters for colonial political and military authorities. In addition, the hill stations provided employment to countless Indians who worked as porters, merchants, government clerks, domestics, and carpenters.
The isolation of British authorities at the hill stations reflected the paradoxical character of the British raj itself, Kennedy argues. While attempting to control its subjects, it remained aloof from Indian society. Ironically, as more Indians were drawn to these mountain areas for work, and later for vacation, the carefully guarded boundaries between the British and their subjects eroded. Kennedy argues that after the turn of the century, the hill stations were increasingly incorporated into the landscape of Indian social and cultural life.
A story set in the Himalayan foothills which gets ever-more interesting as the days of the British Raj and their hill-stations fades beyond the memory of anyone still alive. By chance the author, Professor Dane Kennedy, was in London to carry out research at the India Office Library when he met a woman over the hotel breakfast table who had spent early years in the famous Himalayan hill-station, Simla. 'The Magic Mountains' took root. At their most basic, the hill-stations fostered under the Raj were a Summer months' escape from the Plains, from their 'stark, heat-shimmering, monotonously-unvarying landscape, teeming with millions of idol-worshipping, disease-ridden people.' For those who assumed this perspective, 'the hills became an antipodal landscape'. Escape from the Plains it was. As Rudyard Kipling wrote, 'the journey 'began in heat and discomfort, by rail and road. It ended in the cool evening, with a wood fire in one's bedroom'. Over time the British turned the first tiny settlements into places of beauty and splendour resembling favourite landscapes 'back home', radically reshaping the habitats with artificial bodies of water and introducing exotic plants and animals. And then there was the society... I came across 'The Magic Mountains' when writing my latest Sherlock Holmes novel. In each novel I make a point of sending Holmes and Watson to wondrous places - Constantinople under the Sultan, the Forbidden City in Peking under the Dowager Empress, so why not Simla and Hyderabad in 1911 when violent Indian nationalism was on the rise and every Anglo-Indian from the Viceroy down was in mortal danger. Reading 'Magic Mountains' provided me with the atmosphere of the Raj in those now faraway days, and much to be recommended.