Somewhere between the plains and the first hairpin bend into Himachal Pradesh or Uttarakhand, something curious happens to the average tourist. Civic sense quietly disembarks. It simply disappears.
What follows every long weekend is now painfully familiar. Tourists from the plains storm the hills like they’ve won a lifetime supply of irresponsibility vouchers, transforming snow-capped serenity into a giant, litter-strewn tailgate party.
Having pored over the endless circus in news clips and social media feeds — those viral jams, trash avalanches and tone-deaf shirtless antics — one cannot help but chuckle bitterly at the annual ritual: plenty of selfies, zero self-awareness.
Behold the majestic 13-km Manali-Patlikuhal jam, where Delhi-NCR and neighbouring states day-trippers ditch their low-slung sedans and porter luggage like reluctant sherpas, auditioning for Survivor: Himachal Edition.
Shimla-Manali reels under 8,000-10,000 vehicles daily, trapping even the culprits for 24-hour marathons in their own chaos — three lakh invaders projected, because why plan when you can honk? Cops play human Tetris to free the mess, while locals ponder if Everest was this exhausting.
Nullahs bloated with plastics, Tirthan Valley’s pristine brooks auditioning as Delhi’s next landfill. Apparently, 70% NCR tourists mistook ‘leave no trace’ for ‘leave your trash’. Viral Sissu clips capture sunroof revellers boozing through a 40-day tourism ban, as if ‘customs’ meant ‘costumes for clowns’.
Mussoorie, the so-called Queen of Hills, chokes on wrappers while polite foreigners play cleanup crew - talk about role reversal with a side of rubbish.
Sari-stripping in Manali? Pistol-waving at Parwanoo-Shimla tolls? These gems have ministers begging for ‘civilised conduct’ on sacred Dev bhoomi, as if hill etiquette came with a spoiler alert. Shimla’s Mall Road? Locals’ no-fly zone amid selfie zombies and VIP tantrums, nothing screams ‘holiday’ like treating apple carts as photo props.
Uttarakhand's 2023 pledge to assess limits in 15 towns - from Mussoorie to Pithoragarh - gathers dust, ignoring NGT pleas for tourist registration tied to parking and rooms. Himachal splurges Rs 3,000 crore on tunnels and tamashas, blind to sewage tsunamis and landslide encores post-Joshimath.
Activists like Anoop Nautiyal scream into the void: revenue’s golden egg hatches scarcity, smog and sobbing locals. Who needs limits when selfies are infinite?
At the heart of this seasonal circus is entitlement. A belief that paying for a hotel room includes the right to block roads, ignore rules and treat fragile ecosystems as disposable backdrops. Authorities respond with fines, caps and barricades, but enforcement has limits. Civic sense, unfortunately, cannot be outsourced to the traffic police.
So, what’s the solution to this recurring theatre of the absurd? Perhaps it is time for a radical idea: treat hill towns like places where people actually live. Drive less, walk more. Carry your rubbish. Lower the volume.
Cap homestays, ape Sikkim’s plastic purge, slap ‘civic deposits’ refunded minus your landfill donation. Ban sunroof DJs, snow-illiterate cars and blast PSAs: ‘Hills ain’t your highway, hotshot’.
The mountains have been patient hosts. The question is whether tourists can learn to be guests rather than invaders. Until then, civic deficient nomads will keep re-enacting Mumbai rush hour at 10,000 feet, one flung bottle at a time.

