IT had started off as the perfect hill station morning. A fairly clear sky, the welcome warmth of sunshine and for good measure, a gentle breeze that wafted around as if it had nothing better to do. With a group of elderly travellers, I was in Kasauli. (So as not to give offence to anyone, and to be as politically correct as anyone in these ‘correctly incorrect’ times, by ‘elderly’ I mean people of my age or a little younger).

We had just stepped out of the old church and one was recounting the story of the time when the Viceroy, John Lawrence, was asked to donate money to build the spire as the church still had no pews. Blunt as ever, he is believed to have remarked something to the effect: “Why would you get a man a hat, when he had no trousers?” About that moment, a massive langur sitt

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