THE UMRI: A MOUNTAIN POEM

Hidden gems aren’t found,

they’re felt—

in a change of wind,

a hush in the trees,

a turn in the road

that seems to remember.

One such jewel is The Umri,

tucked in the arms of Umrikhal,

a quiet village perched 12 km shy

of the old cantonment town of Lansdowne.

To arrive is to surrender

to a road half-tarred and half-timeworn,

the very one British officers once rode

after hunting in pine-dark gorges,

their laughter trailing behind them

like the mountain stream.

At the beginning stand

two great banyan trees,

shoulders of time itself,

whose roots cradle centuries

and whose leaves murmur blessings.

Tie a bell to their roots,

and the wind may carry your wish

to the hill gods still watching

from little stone temples in forgotten villages.

Then, suddenly—The Umri.

Green signboard. No neighbours.

Just one house,

elegant as a memory dreamt in silence.

Inside, the luxury is quiet but complete.

Deep sofas that embrace you whole,

couches inviting languor,

fine art adorning every wall

like windows into stillness.

Velvet chairs, warm wood,

sunlight draped across polished floors

like silk left by the morning.

Each of the four rooms is a chapter

in a book of comfort—

king-sized beds dressed in cotton hush,

en suite bathrooms with modern grace,

and a view from every window

that leads not just to trees,

but to peace.

This is not a place to escape to—

it is a place that escapes with you.

For the mind, a library:

shelves lined with crime, classics,

children’s tales and poetry,

thrillers and philosophies,

the kind of books

that open you as much as you open them.

Music awaits quietly,

ready to fill the space

between your thoughts.

And then—

the table.

The cuisine is seduction.

From colonial nostalgia on a porcelain plate,

to bold Indian masalas,

to the umami whisper of Chinese fare—

Chef Harish serves not meals,

but moments.

Dine under a starlit dome,

or on a terrace where the sky

is bluer than belief.

Watch the pines nod over lunch,

and listen to fire crackle over dinner.

Ask for the Garhwali thali—

it is not a dish,

but a doorway.

And when the day ends,

perhaps with a bonfire,

or a paddle pool for your child,

or a quiet book with brandy,

you will know:

you did not choose The Umri.

It chose you.

In a country blooming with homestays—

from seaside mansions to river cottages—

The Umri stands apart.

Not just because it is beautiful.

But because it is