Gangolihat: As Uttarakhand basks in the glow of its silver jubilee festivities—marked by Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s inauguration of projects worth over ₹8,260 crore just a day ago—the remote border hamlet of Gangolihat tells a starkly different story. Here, a gleaming new Roadways bus station, built at a cost of ₹3.1 crore to serve as the “lifeline” for thousands in this isolated block, lies eerily silent. Completed months ago, the facility boasts modern amenities and sits just a kilometer from the bustling main market, yet not a single state-run bus has commenced operations from its bays. For locals long accustomed to rugged Himalayan trails and fleeting taxi rides, the irony is palpable: a state celebrating 25 years of progress while its frontier residents remain marooned.
The station was envisioned as a game-changer for Gangolihat development block, home to over 20,000 souls scattered across snow-kissed villages near the Indo-Tibet border. Officials touted it as a boon for seamless connectivity, promising direct Uttarakhand Roadways services to key destinations like Dehradun, Delhi, Haldwani, Tanakpur, Pithoragarh, and Almora. “This would end our daily ordeal of chasing buses in the main market or shelling out exorbitant fares for taxis,” said Rajendra Singh, a local shopkeeper and father of three school going children who commutes weekly to Pithoragarh. Instead, the only Roadways presence is ephemeral: buses on Delhi, Haldwani, and Tanakpur routes pause briefly in the market for pickups, leaving passengers in a scramble if they miss the mark.
Under the administrative umbrella of Pithoragarh Depot—itself a hub for border logistics—the station was constructed by the Kathgodam Depot. Daily, a single bus from Kathgodam chugs into Gangolihat for an overnight halt before retracing its path at dawn. Yet, despite the dedicated infrastructure, Pithoragarh Depot has yet to launch any originating services. “The station hasn’t been formally transferred to our depot,” explained Ravi Shekhar Kapdi, Assistant Regional Manager at Pithoragarh Depot. “We’re evaluating passenger volumes to outline direct routes from here. Once viable, services will roll out promptly.” Kapdi’s assurance, however, rings hollow against the backdrop of chronic under-servicing in the region, where serpentine roads like the Pithoragarh-Tanakpur highway—upgraded under recent initiatives—still demand hours-long detours for basic travel.
This saga of unfulfilled promise echoes a deeper malaise in Uttarakhand’s transport sector, exacerbated by the very pomp of the state’s milestone anniversary. Just last week, commuters across hills and plains grappled with acute bus shortages after nearly 400 Roadways vehicles were requisitioned for ferrying crowds to Dehradun’s grand celebrations, including Modi’s address on November 9. In border districts like Pithoragarh, where terrain and sparse population already strain logistics, the diversion amplified frustrations. Residents of Gangolihat and neighboring Berinag—another tehsil starved of direct links—have petitioned for years for reliable services to the state capital and district headquarters. Their pleas date back to the previous Congress regime, when then-Chief Minister Harish Rawat announced direct buses from these areas to Dehradun and Pithoragarh during a 2015 push to bolster rural connectivity. Rawat, who flagged off 10 new buses that year as part of broader fleet expansions, positioned the move as a lifeline for hill women and remote workers. But with the 2017 change in government, the pledges gathered dust, much like the Gangolihat station today.
Uttarakhand’s road network has ballooned from 19,000 km at statehood in 2000 to over 45,000 km by 2025, a triumph Modi hailed in his jubilee speech as a bridge from “isolation to integration.” Yet, for border enclaves like Gangolihat—flanked by sacred sites such as Adi Kailash and vital for national security—public transport lags perilously. Experts point to funding mismatches and depot turf wars as culprits, with recent tenders for ancillary roads in the block signaling incremental progress but no holistic fix. “In a state branding itself as the ‘spiritual capital of the world,’ we can’t afford to leave our borders breathless,” quipped local activist Meera Joshi, who leads a women’s self-help group reliant on erratic taxis for market runs to Pithoragarh.
As the silver jubilee echoes fade, calls are mounting for swift intervention. Transfer the station, seed the routes, and honor those dusty announcements, urge residents—lest Uttarakhand’s frontier spirit, forged in the shadows of the Himalayas, be left idling at an empty bus stand. With the assembly’s special session wrapping up debates on the next 25 years, this could be the moment to steer transport policy toward the truly remote, ensuring no valley is left behind in the drive for progress.
