What I love about Mussoorie is the cheerfulness of local mechanics. I put Mary Poppins, my old motorbike, in mothballs for several months at a time and, when I return, need to have the tank air-blown. Luckily I live on a hill and can freewheel down to Hasan's workshop where one of his four sons does the job in minutes. Hasan is originally a Balti from Kargil and I am like his fifth son as I bought the bike from him. For some reason, Bal-tis make good mechanics (though they are rated the lousiest porters in mountaineering lore).
They also make good cooks. Look around Britain and every second Bangladeshi-run 'Indian' restaurant will be subtitled 'Balti Takeaway'. However, scorn not the Balti and let not the hand that rocked the cradle kick the bucket. Lord Swraj Paul's family business in Amritsar (before going West) was the manufacture of baltis. This puts him in the league of pink pantheress Barbara Cartland whose Buckingham Palace connections do not alter the fact that her family fortune derived from the baser metals of hardware—buckets made in Birmingham.
