Called by the Hills: A Home in the Himalaya

by Anuradha Roy

A book about building a home and a wild garden on the edge of a Himalayan forest, illuminated by the author's own watercolours.

When novelist Anuradha Roy and her husband stumble upon a derelict cottage in the hill station of Ranikhet, they decide it is where they will now live. Fresh from the neon-lit publishing offices of Delhi, Roy is initially bemused by the gentle pace of life in the mountains but then won spellbound by the landscape, taken into the heart of the community, and adopted by several mountain dogs.

As Roy tries to rebuild the cottage and create a garden, she encounters nature at its most fierce, beautiful, and vulnerable, and over twenty-five years bears witness to the destructive impact of global warming on the alpine ecosystem.

What emerges is an intimate portrait of her surroundings in which rugged nature, loveable dogs, and recalcitrant humans come together to captivating effect. Written with unsentimental clarity, humour, and poignancy, this is a story of profound transformations.

Genres: Nonfiction, India, Nature, Memoir, Indian Literature, Autobiography

188 pages, Hardcover

First published November 20, 2025

About the author

Anuradha Roy was educated in Hyderabad, Calcutta and Cambridge (UK). She is an editor at Permanent Black, an independent press publishing in South Asian history, politics and culture. She lives mainly in Ranikhet, India, with her husband Rukun Advani and their dog, Biscoot.

Reviews

[Shruti Sharma · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is something almost universal about the dream of life in the hills. For many of us, it borders on a quiet fetish—misty mornings, slow living, an escape from the city’s relentless pace. In Called by the Hills, Anuradha Roy @foldedearth gently unsettles it by stitching it with reality. Life in Ranikhet is not merely picturesque. It pauses in the monsoon, resists convenience, and asks for patience. And yet, it offers companionship in dogs that walk beside you, and strangers who slowly become more than family.

Her writing, as always, is deeply attentive to landscape and nature. There is a quiet honesty in her attempts to grow things from the earth—the small triumphs, the familiar failures. The lime tree, in particular, feels so deeply relatable having faced similar struggles with fruiting myself, except mine never bore fruit at all. That mix of hope, effort, and quiet resignation runs gently through her pages. The memoir expands beautifully: you meet her as a gardener, a writer reflecting on her craft, and someone who, after finishing a book, dreams of opening a little shop on the mall road—don’t we all?

The book reads like a slow-cooked, deeply satisfying casserole—layered with seasons, experiments, memories, and moments of stillness. Accompanied by her own illustrations it adds another layer to the storytelling.

More than a memoir of moving to the hills, this is her meditation on attention, belonging, and what it means to truly inhabit a place which is not one's own. But, then, what really is our own? Aren't we all merely nomads on the planet just getting through the whirlwind of life?
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This book doesn't need our recommendation. I truly believe it will find its readers. 💗

[Rebekah · Rating 3 out of 5]

A stunning meditative, transporting book. I need to be lifted out of my current life and this book did just that. I loved being in the wild Himalaya, and being introduced to the township, the plants, the people, the dogs. I had a gentle smile on my face throughout the entire reading experience and loved Anuradha's kind, wry, compassionate, funny, gentle tone.

'What a real thing the earthy look is,' writes Clare Leighton in Four Hedges. 'Is it some rhythmic sympathy with the earth that shows itself even in the way clothes are worn? It is not the actual colour of the dress...it is not the shagginess of the person either. It msut come from the attitude towards the earth.'

'One passage in Four Hedges has had me forever spellbound - about the sounds animals and birds can hear that human ears cannot. The passage ends with with observation that some birds prefer Mozart's Oboe Quartet over all else...I decided to test it...it was the strangest thing: a whole flock of laughing thrushes, two sibias, and countless tits and sparrows descended on the feeders in minutes. They did not sing but certainly conferred with each other a great deal as they gorged themselves on the grain and peanuts and apples. I tried out classical Indian music next and they seemed to approve of Ravi Shankar playing Raga Bhimpalasi on the siat as much as they had the oboe...what struck me as particularly unusual was that with the music on, they allowed me to come very close, a mere foot or so away, as they fed.'

[Sumit Bhagat · Rating 5 out of 5]

A lovely meditation on life in the hills.

This book was extra special for me because Roy's setting, Ranikhet, is also my hometown. The stories about the places, people, flora, and fauna brought back a heavy dose of nostalgia. The hardcover print and the drawings that accompany the text are a delight in their own right.

I wish I could follow in her footsteps someday.

[Rohini Raman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some cozy non-fiction with a side of sensorial experience and some political undercurrents? Bring it on. The paintings are a sight to behold and extra kudos for the postcards :) the entire book comes together as one gorgeous, immersive piece of work.

[Tess Laven · Rating 4 out of 5]

A warming meditation that made me melancholy for the mountains 💗

[Sukhmani Grewal · Rating 4 out of 5]

Warm and felt like i was back to mountains i saw during my school days.

[Rose Bates · Rating 3 out of 5]

Gorgeous artwork and imagery evoked with an enjoyable focus on Himalayan nature and elements of Roy’s garden. I also found the turn to a political and environmental commentary at the end fitting and nicely built up to. While perhaps not a book I would pick up again, it was an enjoyable insight into a different part of the world.

[Sheetal Bahl · Rating 3 out of 5]

I like Anuradha Roy's writing very much, and I love the Kumaon, but it was still very difficult to finish this book. It starts off like a book about the hills, but then quickly converts into a book that is essentially about her garden. And then some about the forests her home is in. And a little about dogs and villagers and everything else. If you're a plant/ tree person, this could work well for you. If not, might be tough.

The standout is the artwork. All done by the author, and all beautiful.

[Preeta · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘Called by the Hills-A Home in the Himalaya’ is a reader’s trip to the mountains.

Of trees, and the voice of the birds. Of the dogs walking alongside, the surrounding wilds and the reader (me) lifting my face up to inhale the fresh mountain air.

“Only a few things in life can be pinned to particular moments. This was one. We knew, R and I, that some day we would live in the cottage on that hill.”(page 3)

When Anuradha Roy stumbles upon this cottage, their lives change forever. From the glittering lights of Delhi, she, along with her husband Rukun, make this momentous decision to shift to the hills in Ranikhet. And create their own small haven in the mountains.

This book is her journey.

Of settling, understanding, blending. Of creating her life with her plants, dogs, her garden, her community and the wilderness all around.

The book is about the wild.

“We lived in endless forest.” (page 37)

Her diving into the unknown. Trying to tame some, and let some be uncultivated. She draws the reader into the mountains, weaving and unmasking images with her prose, the raw beauty of her environs.

Yet the book is about stillness.

The narration is poetic, beckoning the reader into a world of trees, lights, shadows, thrushes, leopards… the dangers are narrated, but there is a calm acceptance of the jungle around… an unspoken merging in.

It was not easy, I am sure. The author has glossed over major difficulties, emphasising her urge to be there. Of course, she writes about the earlier days, when there was no internet and running with the laptop from here to there, trying to catch a bar to connect.

“One long tense night a leopard circled our house, coughing without pause after it missed a kill.” (page 17)

She talks of interesting experiments.

Inspired by one passage in “Four Hedges” by Clare Leighton, she played Mozart’s Oboe Quartet on the phone. “It was the strangest thing: a whole flock of laughing thrushes……descended on the feeder in minutes.” (page 135)

She talks of many authors.

Anuradha Roy has quoted many authors who have written extensively on the mountains. Leela Majumdar. Frank Smythe. Clare Leighton. Peter Matthiessen. And others. I wish the book had a bibliography of the extensive authors she has quoted.

The book narrates the interactive lives of humans, nature and animals… the coexistence comes alive and vibrant all through.

Each page evokes images – of the messy garden, of the mountains, of the adjoining quarters, of the untamed surroundings. Her attempts to grow a structured garden (lemon trees and all), to merge with the local community, and ultimately to watch man-made development creep, claw and disturb the natural habitat.

The last chapter, ‘The Wounded Mountain’, talks of the badly damaged, fragile ecosystem. So loosely is the term ‘climate change’ used to blame the ravaged mountains. Does man have no responsibility for the extensive damage and exploitation of the once wild and roaming free trees, rivers, animals, and streams?

She talks poignantly of Jerry- her companion dog taken away by the leopard out for a hunt due to encroaching civilisation into its terrain. Her book’s dedication to Jerry is her tribute to his memory.

The book is also a physical beauty. The lovely binding, the smooth white pages adorned with a lovely pink rim, and the beautiful, evocative artworks by the author herself. The book is, by itself, a sensory delight.

“I still feel fraudulent when I fill in ‘writer’ in the box next to Occupation. Is mine a real occupation?…..to write something nobody is asking you to write nor waiting for-is that work? Lives wouldn’t be lost without one more book.” (page 142)

Lives wouldn’t be lost for sure. But we would miss this wild and peace she has managed to create in the pages that she has written.

The book calls to be read.

[Malavika Roy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Woven into the peaceful tapestry of slow mountain living, this book is peaceful, poignant, and soothing on many levels. What starts as slow and peaceful takes a humorous turn when the writer candidly shifts her focus from the pristine mountain views of her cottage to navigating the everyday challenges of “mountain living.” From figuring out life and living to dealing with a basic lack of resources like electricity, connectivity, and transport—or survival (literally, when one is surrounded by wild leopards in the jungle)—the writer unravels each experience with quiet pleasure, allowing readers the time to process and feel the journey.
Despite the oddities, her wordsmithing keeps the reader charmed and spellbound by the raw ruggedness and untouched innocence of this life. Simple people (including the recalcitrant neighbors), everyday chores, and the small oddities of mountain life are like a soft blanket on a chilly night, bringing warmth and reassurance that good things lie ahead.

Anuradha’s writing carries a freshness that reminded me of the mountain writing I once read from Ruskin Bond. Perhaps it was the setting, or the candor of it all—but the book becomes a sure-shot comforting read, one I would happily pick up again when I long for comfort, reassurance, or nostalgia.

Replete with beautiful watercolor artworks by the writer, the book is nothing less than an artist’s delight.

[Dvora Treisman · Rating 1 out of 5]

Maybe what some people call beautiful writing for me is just flowery words put together in such a way that you can't figure out what the writer is trying to say. I don't like that kind of writing. Chapter 5, the last chapter that I tried to read was an example. It was about dogs. Four dogs. It started out with a black and tan dog that showed up on their doorstep and settled there. He was three years old and he stayed. In the next paragraph we are told "We made his acquaintance when he was a puppy with more energy than brains, whom we met when we went for walks with our first dog, Biscoot. He belonged to the gardener at the Army Public School and wore a red string around his neck ... " At first I thought she had changed her mind and had actually met the three-year-old when he was a puppy. Then I realized that no, the black and tan must have been Biscoot, and this puppy was the second of the four dogs that this chapter was about. It was too confusing. I had to reread to make sense of it.
My first impression was that the writing was too precious, too self-conscious which is why I never really wanted to pick up the book. I guess it's just a matter of taste. Note: I have a paperback edition that does not appear in the Goodreads list and I couldn't find a way to enter it by ISBN since, I was told, the book is already in the Goodreads list. It's published by Daunt Books but is not the listed Kindle edition. The author's illustrations are lovely.

[Madhulika Liddle · Rating 5 out of 5]

In Anuradha Roy’s 2011 novel The Folded Earth, the eccentric old scholar Diwan Sahib talks about the Himalaya. ‘The mountains do not reveal themselves to people who come here merely to escape the heat of the plains. Through the summer they veil themselves in a haze. The peaks emerge for those devoted to them through the coldest of winters, the wettest of monsoons.’

These are not the words of one merely enamoured of the mountains, the traveller who comes to escape the torrid summers of more low-lying areas (or, increasingly, one only intent on getting some Instagrammable photos of snow-capped peaks and pine forests). This is a candid bit of wisdom from someone who knows the mountains, and knows them well. Anuradha Roy, writer, publisher, potter and painter—and dweller in the Himalaya—brings to life her home and its surroundings in her first non-fiction work, Called by the Hills: A Home in the Himalaya.

Divided into twelve chapters, Called by the Hills begins with Accidental Lodging, which describes how Roy and her husband, editor and author Rukun Advani, decided twenty-five years ago to move to Ranikhet, in Uttarakhand’s Kumaon district. On a visit to Ranikhet, they had stumbled across a derelict cottage, with ‘…windows blinded by parchment-yellow sheets of newspaper, and gaping doorframes. Inside, the floor was covered with a hillock of mud, while old gunny bags smelling of mildew sagged over our heads…’

To the superficial reader, that sounds unprepossessing. To Roy and R (as she refers to Advani), the moment when they saw this cottage, with a sooty-faced dog standing in it, became an epiphany: this, they knew, would be the place they would live someday. The cottage was part of a sprawling estate owned by a publisher friend of the couple’s, Ravi Dayal (who worked at Oxford University Press): the estate itself dated back to the 1800s, and this cottage, on the edge of the estate, was useless to Dayal. He let Roy and R have it, and they moved in.

Like others shifting to new homes in unfamiliar surroundings—the Durrells in Corfu, the Mayles in Provence—Roy recounts (though briefly) the challenges of learning to cope with life in a small town in the Himalaya. The unreliable Internet connection; the equally unreliable electricity supply; the snakes and scorpions who considered it their right to share the cottage with the human residents.

Accidental Lodging also acts as an introduction to Ranikhet: its people, its distinct character, the wildlife in the forests abutting it. After this preliminary, Roy meanders through Ranikhet and its people, its birds and animals. Gently, with compassion as well as a sense of quiet humour, she talks of people like the Ancient, the old woman who helps her out in the garden and has very decided opinions on everything a Memsahib should be. Or the director of the government orchard, whose catchphrase—‘sophar-sogud’—proves somewhat of a leitmotif for life in Ranikhet.

The narrative encompasses various dogs who take up residence with Roy and R; the plants Roy nurtures in her garden; her forays into the forest around, to understand it and those that dwell within it. Between the forest and the town, between the now and the past, the book swings, showing its readers different facets of life for those who choose to live and work in a town like Ranikhet.

Called by the Hills is a work of non-fiction, but it’s easy to see the skilful hand of the storyteller here. Roy weaves into her book not just a description of Ranikhet, but much else too. There is history; there is the geology of the place, and its geography. Its flora and fauna, as well as the species (‘Illegal Immigrants’, as Roy titles the chapter) of plants that Roy brings back from travels overseas to plant in her garden.

There is (of course there will be, Roy is a litterateur, after all) literature. Bengali writer Leena Majumdar’s Aar Konokhane fits in here, quoted by Roy as readily as she quotes (about birds and more) from Claire Leighton’s 1935 Four Hedges: A Gardener’s Chronicle. She mentions, too, writings about Ranikhet and its environs: the ninth chapter, The Chroniclers and Preservers, is devoted to people who have made it their life’s work to document the story of these mountains.

As with anyone who is not merely infatuated but loves deeply (and wisely) enough to see the bad alongside the good, Roy underlines, too, the ecological disaster that is already making itself visible in the area. The last chapter of the book, The Wounded Mountain, offers personal insights into how poorly-planned ‘infrastructural development’ has adversely affected wildlife in the area. Disappearing species, deforestation, the encroachment of the noise and pollution of the city—Roy weaves these into her narrative, along with other issues. Patriarchy, for instance, and the way it subtly (or not) makes its presence felt. Or the antipathy towards stray dogs. The precariousness of being a writer. This is a book that knows how to blend the good with the bad, the sweet with the unsavoury.

All through the book, Roy’s affection for her surroundings comes through loud and clear, her words describing it all in exquisite prose:

[the barbet] is always in party clothes: emerald greens and sapphire blues on top, a striped yellow-and-blue jersey underneath, and a triangle of silken scarlet under its tail making it the very picture of gorgeousness.

Reading this book, one can almost imagine the place. But to make that a little bit easier to do, Roy’s beautiful artwork—liberally scattered all through the pages, as also on the cover—depicts her home, the garden, the places and people and animals and flowers she so vividly describes.

It is hard to slot this book. It is memoir, it is observation. It is a home and garden book, a travelogue, an ode to the mountains. An art book. A book about Kumaon. Perhaps it’s a little of all of these, and profoundly likeable.

(From my review for Scroll, here: https://scroll.in/article/1088945/cal...)

[Milan · Rating 3 out of 5]

In this memoir ‘Called by the Hills,’ Anuradha Roy writes about moving to the Kumaon region at the foothills of Himalayas. She is seeking solace in the mountains.

It’s a short book which tries to cover a lot of ground. The author tells about the life unfolding in a small town next to a forest where there are no clear boundaries telling where the jungle ends and where the humans take over. We meet the birds, the animals, the plants, and a cast of local characters. We become aware of the problems of the local community. She writes about climate change, growing plants, dogs, leopard attacks, bird songs, trees, soil, rain, destruction of nature, and a few musings about being a writer. It has everything that a nature lover would like to read about. But she never goes deep into any of the topics but flits like a bird from one topic to another quickly.

The drawings in the book (done by the author) bring the hills to life. Some of the details of the mountain life were quite fascinating. The best parts of the book are where the patterns of life in the hills are shown along with the compassion of the people for each other.

[Anindya Biswas · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I was young, as with most other people, the dream of the Himalayas was envisioned through Ruskin Bond's books. Life in a village, next to a forest, with indulgent amas and impromptu adventures seemed to be the only way to live in the Himalayas.

In 2020, when I moved to the hills, it was a different adventure - one where you learn from the village, its cuisine and its festivals. It's one where your inquisitiveness is constantly battling for time with the mundane activities that comprise living in a village.

Anuradha Roy's "Called by the Hills" brought back the innocence of Ruskin Bond books while not being a children's book. It is real - with all the trials and tribulations faced by those living in the hills and yet privileged. A chief reality check being the loss of the many Jerrys who had graced and embellished their owners' lives.

It's a contemporary book on the hills, and contrary to what the author thinks, an important one at that.

[Apoorva Saini · Rating 4 out of 5]

It’s a memoir/diary about the author's life in Ranikhet, and how she and her husband built a home for themselves in the majestic Himalayas. The book gives us first-hand account of what it takes to cohabit with the wild nature; pre-internet rhythms of the Kamouni life; mountain dogs and the two devastating Covid lockdowns; our love for the soil and why it makes humans happy. The book is a beautiful reflection on the author's choice to live a slow life (despite its many challenges and oddities) and how it's shaped the gardener, publisher, writer, potter, and painter that she is today. The book comes with Roy's remarkably soft illustrations of the community and landscapes around their abode, which undoubtedly carry the same warmth and care with which she writes about her life in the mountains.

[Subodh · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read and liked Anuradha Roy's 'All the Lives We Never Lived' a few years back. I have been thinking of reading anothr book of hers but never got around to it, until now. I became aware of this book through a social media post and ordered it on a whim. I am happy that I did. I finished the book in 3 days - it is not a big book - and enjoyed reading it. This is her first non-fiction and expertly draws ther reader into her world as she makes a home in the hills. She beautifully captures the joy of a living a slow-paced life, away from the bustle of big cities, without minimising all the hassles it involves. Towards the end she shares her anguish at the damage being done to the fragile hills in the name of 'development.'

[Vaibhav Srivastav · Rating 5 out of 5]

Anuradha Roy is a favourite writer that I avoid reading because most of her books are entrenched with Sadness, and yet her way of creating characters and describing scenes is exemplary. I picked this book eagerly because it was non-fiction, and it is a delightful memoir (of sorts) which encapsulates a life in Rani Khet surrounded by nature as she and her husband Rukun (who is the central character of a book by Mr Guha but appears sparsely here) leave the city and create a universe, populated by gin drinking octogenarians, small shops and the love of Dogs. The book also has a lot of her paintings and sketches, capturing the hills and her.

[Sumirti · Rating 4 out of 5]

A super cozy read about living in a cottage with grand views of the Himalayas.

I wish I had read this in the winter, curled under warm sheets.
I wish I’d bought the hardcover instead of the Kindle version, just for that gorgeous artwork.
I wish I could have read it while sipping fruit tea and eating biscuits in the spring sun, lying on the fresh grass.

I wish I had a copy of this book for my shelf, and
I wish that I, too, could live in the mountains.
I wish and long to go on another long trek to meet those snow-clad peaks, filling my lungs with cold air.

I wish......

Gorgeous work.

[Upasana Manimegalai Sridhar · Rating 4 out of 5]

This memoir by Anuradha Roy reflects on her decision to move to the Himalayan hills with her husband and run a publishing house from there. Told in a non-linear style, the book unfolds through a series of episodes capturing moments of joy, hardship, support systems, judgment, friendships with dogs, and the influence of nature, wildlife, and gardening. Despite the challenges, she beautifully portrays the charm of community life in the hills. The episodes about dogs are especially heartwarming. Even as someone not particularly drawn to mountains or gardening, which form a large part of the narrative, I found the book engaging and an interesting read.

[Amitabh · Rating 5 out of 5]

A touching account of a city-bred couple trying to create a patch of happiness on the hills. Anyone with actual experience of living on hills will appreciate the honesty of the account. The book’s beauty lies in its simple ‘Ruskinesque’ narration. The pages conceal a subtle melancholy strain - the delightful humour and the cheerful paintings adorning the book notwithstanding. The book is highly recommended for those with dreams of settling down in the hills - ‘someday’!

[Jan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Novelist Roy has written an interesting biographic story about life in the hill station of Ranikhet. She and her husband rebuilt a derelict cottage in the Indian Himalaya which is still her home.
Set over 25 years, the book includes her lovely illustrations and is about planting a garden, working with locals, dogs, publishing and climate change.
A very good short read.

[James · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful book, rich in description and full of heartwarming stories and characters. A joy to read, you really feel immersed in the author's home in the Himalaya. I especially enjoyed the chapter on 'The Ancient'...

[Rebellitz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Short memoir capturing the life of Ranikhet. I was able to feel the quiet comfort of living near the mountains - the stillness , truth and. Chaos it subsides.
It shows that peace isn’t the absence of hardship but instead living throughout.

[Anne-Trine · Rating 5 out of 5]

If I could give ten stars ...
Beautiful book, absolutely loved it. The prose, the story, the everything ... I only wish it had more pages. I have all her novels, this book made me want to read them again!

[Ishu Sharma · Rating 5 out of 5]

All while reading this book I felt as if I have relocated to Raniket (Himalyas). On purpose I read it alow, I didnt wish it to end.

[Madison Tumey · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a great “slice of life” read, highly enjoyed

[Niranjani Deshpande · Rating 5 out of 5]

thoroughly enjoyed. a lightweight read. felt like i was having coffee with the author in her garden🥰

[Peter Jones · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not so interested in the dogs, but this is an enjoyable book.

[Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars. Roy's writing is as solid as ever, and the reflections on nature and slowing down to enjoy daily life are lovely, but this brief memoir didn't captivate me the way her fiction does.

[Patti · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this book so much. A beautiful read. The author takes you to her home in Ranikhet. The people, animals, garden, surrounding jungle and mountains (Himalayas) are revealed to us through her deep knowledge and experience of living in a place that is so very different to her previous home in Delhi.