About the first thing you notice about Panchgani is its special air, the crisp filtered coolness, helped no doubt by the innumerable Silver Oak trees. The second is its people, the typical, easy-going local residents. The third is the pace of life, slow and unhurried. What's your rush, mate? Where are you going to? Relax, take time to smell the flowers.

Which you notice are in abundance in this tiny, laidback, unpretentious, charming hill-station. Wherever you go you find the charming sight of thriving Bougainvillaea. In addition there are Begonias, Geraniums, Petunias, flowering everywhere, with the hardy Durantha making natural boundary walls. In November and December Poinsettias growing by the wayside lend such a festive atmosphere, it makes for a perfect Christmas scene. Only the snow is missing.

Down the years most people have given Panchgani the skip. It's Mahabaleshwar 19 km away and 300 feet higher which is in the foreground and uppermost in people's minds. Selfishly thinking that's all right with me. But deep down you know you have to be magnanimous and share God's bounty. Especially when you have so much knowledge about Panchgani's goodness you could share.

You see, my family had made Panchgani its summer base way back in the 1960s. We were first taken there as little children. I rode my first pony here. I also learnt cycling at the Police Ground, which is now barbed and out of bounds. Summers used to be freezing cold and we used to watch movies huddled in giant tents, sitting on dhurries on uneven pebbled ground eating monkey-nuts while they changed film spools, four times in all! And we thought that was the ultimate in happiness, returning home way past midnight, shining the torch on the pathway, watching out for snakes, yet trying to catch glow worms with an elder sister�s dupatta. What a pretty picture those fireflies made in the pitch darkness.

From being a kid, to growing into a wild teenager turning into a young adult and now hopefully a sensible and wise woman, Panchgani has contributed rather substantially to not just my life, but also in the shaping of my personality. It is here I scraped my knees, tore my elbows, climbed trees, honed my sporting abilities, learned to sing, to get along, to assert myself, to appreciate nature, to expand my knowledge, to get to know my siblings, and most importantly, to watch my mother and learn about her love for us. My mother who did so much for us, her 10 children, in those two months of summer-time, today so many years later, I reel at just the memory. Alas, she is no more, but she must be smiling wherever she may be, for her efforts have paid off. I now even cook all the exquisite fare she turned out for us.

In all these years since I have been visiting Panchgani, this inconspicuous hamlet has certainly suffered in the process of growth, but by and large the changes have not been dramatically negative. The Sydney Point is still there, though its peak is ravaged by unnecessary structures, its lone white pillar discarded by the wayside years ago. A run up here in the early morning is exhilarating. Once up there you swing under the metal railing, find yourself a clearing in the thistles, sit down and take in the Krishna Valley view. The landscape extending for miles is dotted by clusters of villages with cultivated fields settled beside the gleaming serpentine which is the Krishna River majestically making its way around the mountain, and pouring itself into the Dhom Dam of Wai at the foothill of Panchgani.

Across, on the left and over the MRA Centre is the Table Land. Imposing and grand. A vast expanse of flat mountain top, all of 95 acres, the Table Land is so unique in size, stature and beauty it is quite easily the crowing glory of Panchgani. You drive to it through the Shivaji Chowk at the bazaar, up the slopes past shops, halting to pay a small tourist charge at the check-post at the Old Church Bakery. Happily, I don't have to stop and pay because I am a local by definition, I have a house in Panchgani. Being considered a goan-walla is a thought which gives me immense pleasure. Anyway, you wind your way up making steep hairpin bends past St. Joseph's, Panchgani's most beautiful boarding school, and past the oldest Silver Oak trees to reach a point at the Table Land beyond which driving is thankfully banned.

Unfortunately, the first sight of Table Land which should be awesome is actually awful. A rape of Table Land has taken place in the name of entertainment. With complete disregard to aesthetics and environmental factors, ugly food stalls selling sub-standard fare, dozens of games counters have come into existence. A dilapidated ferris wheel has also found its way up here. Hoping this entire contraption will soon be wiped off the landscape, and tranquillity restored, you ignore the noise pollution and walk to the edge to look down into the town that is Panchgani. And what do you see?

You see tin-roofed houses, and sprawling bungalows belonging to old Parsis. You see the many schools the hill-station is famous for, like Billimoria, where Busybee studied, and the ubiquitous Silver Oaks, the lungs of this hill-station are everywhere, rustling in the wind, making music. You see the most indescribably beautiful sunsets from here. Table Land is super in any season but like the rest of Panchgani, it is best after the rains, in August and September, when a lake gets formed and grass and dainty white and yellow flowers carpet the mountain top and school boys come up for a game of football.

The hub of Panchgani is the main street. Which extends from the Roache Bakery, at the Children's Garden end and ends at Ram Bhaiya's Vasant Paan Shop near the ST stand. In between this 100 metre stretch is what you find makes Panchgani�s life tick. Which is nothing, actually. You just stroll around. Buy chana, eat a bhutta, pick up some jams to bring back home, bread from Malbar Bakery for next day's breakfast, a day old newspaper, and so on. Like I said, it's nothing spectacular, just a comfortable slow feeling which allows your mind to go in neutral, puts you at ease, relaxes you.

Where you would like to stay in Panchgani would all depend on your individual taste, but there are two old world charm places I personally like. Il Palazzo and Prospect. The modern ones which are nice are Ravine and Blue Country Resort. But the best, of course, would be to be invited by Jimmy Pantaky or Persis Adajania as house guests in their fabulous old houses. The advantage of home stays lies in the fact that you not only enjoy the solitude more, you indulge in home cooking, being able to go marketing, and entertain in your own garden.