THE LEGEND OF NALDERA TEMPLE
At a little distance beyond Mushobra in the Simla district, stands an old, old temple of the Mongolian type, around which hangs a quaint wooden fringe, which causes a strange rattling sound on a windy day.
No priest lives within its sacred precincts, and the vicinity being the Viceroy’s summer camping ground, the presiding “Deo,” or deity, must often be disturbed by the light laughter and chatter of picnic parties from Simla.
Many years ago, before the present Rickshaw Road existed, a party of hillmen, gaily laughing and talking as they swung along, carrying a “Dandy” (or kind of litter), arrived at the place.
It was about 11 A.M. on a bright October morning, and the keen wit of the men as they exchanged repartee with many bright-eyed Paharee maidens, seemed in keeping with the cool, crisp air and turquoise blue sky; but suddenly a deep silence fell upon them.
They had come within sight of a number of enormous boulders which lay scattered, as though hurled by some earthquake or invisible force along the precipitous mountain side.
Not a word escaped the lips of the four men till they had turned the corner which bounds Naldera Temple; then they took out their cheelums and smoked while they told this tale:
“Years and years ago there stood in this place a beautiful and prosperous city, full of houses and people.
“The present Temple stood in its midst, but the people were wicked and sinful, so one day the ‘Deo’ arose in great wrath and hurled the entire city with its inhabitants down into the precipice, so that not one stone was left standing upon another; and the grey rocks and solitary Temple alone remain to tell the tale of past splendour and prosperity.”