the ghost of lady orme

THE GHOST OF LADY ORME

It was towards the end of the 19th century when the town of Mussoorie had already become famous as the Queen of the Hills among the British Military and civil officers. Other hill stations like Shimla and Darjeeling had taken a back seat in terms of popularity. Some of the world’s best beer and best orchestra used to ignite the passion of the evenings of the Queen of the Hills. Famous personalities thronged the evening parties and ball rooms that also lured the princes and Nawabs of the Indian States. The small and cozy town of Mussoorie soon became venue for one of most happening dos. Sighting it as a vital need, Mr. C.D. Lincoln acquired the Maddock’s Mussoorie School and came up with the Savoy hotel. The Savoy hotel, named after the Savoy in London, was opened in 1902 and was (and still is) the largest hotel in terms of area in any other hill station in India. The Savoy hosted many rich and famous and of course young and beautiful people of that time which fueled the gossips about spouse swapping and sneaking through into other’s rooms. As the famous traveler Lowell Thomas wrote in 1926, "There is a hotel (Savoy) in Mussoorie where they ring a bell just before dawn so that the pious may say their prayer and the impious get back to their own beds". One night, amidst all that chaos, a certain Lady Garnet Orme was found dead under mysterious circumstances. It was found that she was given strychnine (a poison) in her medicine. Novelist Agatha Christie’s first ever novel "The mysterious Affair at Styles (1920)" was based on that very incident where the victim was the practitioner of occult. The case was quite a sensation at that time. Rudyard Kipling asked his friend Conan Doyle to use the case as a new adventure for Sherlock Holmes but Holmes never did make the trip to India. Later, Lady Orme’s doctor was also found dead of strychnine but not at the Savoy. The Halls and corridors of the Savoy are said to be haunted by the ghost of Lady Garnet Orme. Her presence can be felt, to the believer, in the night on the roads around the Savoy when the breeze whirls through the tall Deodars and brings the fragrance of a Lady in her finery, her whispers can be heard when there the breeze has just stopped blowing giving space to a deep silence and her touch can be felt when lightening bursts suddenly in the dark stormy nights. Her company can be felt when dry leaves are crushed under the feet, as if she is walking along and want to begin an Affair in her own distinctive Styles.