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ОглавлениеNeemrana Fort Palace Alwar district, India
Is there such a thing as the "real Indian experience?" Perhaps it's easier to approach this question by listing what it is not. The "real India" is definitely not bug-infested backpackers' lodges and third-class rail travel; it also isn't the five-star luxury of new, opulent resorts (although we like some of these very much). Rather, it is a stay at some place like the Neemrana Fort Palace, an extraordinary heritage hotel that combines history and architectural grandeur with honest hospitality. I'd say a weekend there is about as authentic an Indian experience as you'll get anywhere on the subcontinent.
This is not to denigrate its more expensive, super-deluxe counterparts, some of which are featured in this book. If we're honest, those kinds of hotels lure us with a fantasy element; they take us to another world where we can forget our "real" lives and identities and become anyone we want. They're treats, they're pampering—and they're fun.
But somehow they don't seem real. Neemrana, on the other hand, is raw and real, the genuine article. Dating from the 15th century, and built in stages over 500 years, it is sited on a majestic plateau in the ancient Aravalli ranges. Whilst researching a book on Shekavati in the late '70s, owners Aman Nath and Francis Wacziarg first saw Neemrana glowing on a hill at sunset. It was subsequently bought in 1986 along with two partner-friends. Soon after the first wing was restored to open as a hotel in 1991, they asked their price to bow out, and today it is the flagship property of the Neemrana Group's hotels.
When work began, Neemrana's walls were crumbling, roofs had fallen in, and because nobody had lived there since 1947, villagers had pretty much looted all they could carry through its massive fortified doors. In fact, the doors themselves were about the only things they left behind—and that is because they were simply too heavy to shift! But gradually, over the years, the hotel took shape, and today, the fort palace boasts 42 rooms and suites, all different, all highly individual, situated in various nooks and crannies over nine levels.
As you progress ever upward, India in all its many facets is presented to you. Each room is named after an aspect of Indian life, or a region of the country. The Malabar Mahal sports woodwork from Kerala: part of a catamaran from the Malabar coast hangs from the ceiling and wood carvings taken from nalakettu or traditional warrior's homes are used both as interior and exterior decoration. Many others feature soft chhapai or block-printed cloth, that is hand made locally. The queen's chambers, renamed the Sheesh Mahal or Hall of Mirrors after the original cut-glass ceiling, is resplendent in blue and white: colored glass on the windows, floaty white drapes, and the original geometric latticed windows or jaalis overlooking a central courtyard have been retained. Today, as in the past, you can see the goings on outside, but those outside cannot see in. One of the hotel restaurants, with scalloped-edged arches splitting the space into intimate areas, is dedicated to Raja Rajinder Singh, the last maharajah of Neemrana: old black-and-white family photographs and portraits grace the walls, and there's a sketch of his widow's house, the Vijay Bagh, on the outskirts of the village. If you look closely, you can spot her modest home through the window; she, in turn, can see her former family seat from her terrace.
Like any traditional Indian dwelling, Neemrana revolves around a series of courts. Most are landscaped to some extent, and they lend the rambling palace some breathing space. But it's the exuberant collection of Indian art and artifacts that is particularly noteworthy; everywhere you turn, you are greeted by a statue, or an unusual piece of furniture or an object d'art. One semi-open hall, the Hindla Mahal (from hindola meaning "swing"), is dedicated solely to showcasing a selection of old Indian swings—from a colonial rocking cradle to some enormous examples from Gujarat, Rajasthan and South India. One gets the impression that a truck may just show up at any given moment, and disgorge a veritable treasure trove of paraphernalia personally collected by the owners.
By the millennium, the old palace was totally renovated. You'd have thought this would be the time for the owners to sit back and enjoy their creation. Right? "Actually, no," says Nath. "It was the time to expand. Neemrana has grown organically since 1464, and we are continuing the tradition." A new wing was added. In keeping with the monumental architecture, it houses a swimming pool made from stone crumbled from the billion-year-old hill, a gym, yoga room and Ayurvedic center below, an amphitheater for performances, and a conference center, museum and art gallery in Ghelot stone, so named after the nearby village where it is quarried. "But the whole palace is a gallery," I protested. "Yes, but there's always room for more," came the answer.
In 2001 the hotel earned the prestigious INTACH-SATTE award for Restoration and Tourism, and has now become synonymous with the phrase "restoration for reuse." As the judges noted: "Neemrana remains the foremost example of how we can pick architectural treasures from the national dustbin and turn them around into mainstream revenue earners in tourism,"
Neemrana's proximity to Delhi, its indefatigable owners, and the new facilities it offers ensure a steady stream of visitors to this fairy-tale fortress. After more than half a century of neglect, Neemrana's mighty profile is once again cast against the Rajasthani horizon—a testament to vision, talent and sheer hard work.
Village Neemrana, District Alwar 301 030, Rajasthan, India
tel: +91 1494 46007 fax: +91 1494 46005
email: sales@neemranahotels.com
Vanyavilas near Ranthambhore, India
The vast wooded estates of Indian princes used to teem with wildlife, Picnics and hunting trips were de rigueurior royalty, and many of their old hunting grounds are dotted with lakes, lodges and pleasure pavilions. What is today's Ranthambhore National Park was, from the turn of the century, the private hunting reserve of Jaipur's maharajahs, although it had been ruled locally, as the thousand-year-old fort atop its central hill testifies. But with control passing to Jaipur, the forests were closed to the public and stocked with birds and wildlife for shikars, or hunting expeditions.
On such occasions, a vast retinue of princes, kings, guests, hangers-on, servants, beaters as well as gun-bearers would have made the trip from the city to set up a home-away-from-home in a lakeside encampment. Typically these would have been tented, and in addition to kitchens, stables and sleeping chambers, there were pavilions for entertaining, dining and dancing. Royal tents were complex cloth palaces: inner layers were sumptuously embroidered and decorated, and came with fabric arches and different "rooms" for different functions. Gold and silver threads, velvets and silks, soft cushions and curtains adorned the interiors, while outer awnings constituted public areas. In many ways, such camps were portable recreations of court life,
Nowadays, visitors to Ranthambhore eschew hunting and shooting in favor of animal and bird watching. The park has had success in tiger preservation, and its ridges, lakes, woods and valleys are home to numerous species of deer, a rich variety of resident and migratory birds, hyenas, bears and jackals as well as a few leopards, coucals and over 30 resident tigers. Visits to the park are strictly monitored to avoid disruption to wildlife, and tiger sitings are quite frequent, Many visitors opt to stay in the semi-modernized royal lodge, but my recommendation is to check out Vanyavilas, a tented resort adjacent to the park. With a backdrop of the Aravalli cliffs and a meandering water garden setting, it is reminiscent of the old encampments of Rajput royalty.
Vanyavilas has an intimacy that is lacking at the other "vilas" properties. Set in a 22-acre (9-hectare) mango, lime and guava grove, it is super-deluxe (of course), but somehow smaller in scale and temperament, All accommodation is in air-conditioned tents (ten twins and 15 doubles), although they are so luxurious you can hardly call them that. Each has a teak floor and proper walls, an outer canvas sheet that provides additional protection from wind and rain, and a softer inner layer beautifully embroidered with miniature tigers and floral motifs. Beds are four-poster or twin and there are the usual wonderful amenities we have come to expect from these properties. The bathroom has a claw-foot stand-alone tub, folding table and rolled up towels, giving the impression of transportability. It is as if the bathroom had just been set up for the night's camping, and could be dismantled and taken to the next camp the following day
The public areas are set in a single-storey main building fashioned in the style of a traditional haveli or nobleman's home. From the ceremonial gatehouse, you walk past a modernist oblong water feature in Jaipur tiles of deep blue, to a teak door with brass inlay flanked by two elephant statues and flaming braziers. The severity of the entrance is softened by a reception lobby that sports frolicking elephants in gold leaf chasing each other around the ceiling architrave. All is fresh, open and cool. There's a snug colonial-style library, and access to a sweet-smelling courtyard where a neem tree was bursting into lacelike flowers and scenting the air. Here a small pool flanked by tasseled parasols offers cool from the raging Rajasthani heat,
Because the focus of the resort is on the national park, conversations at dinner invariably center around who spotted which tiger and who trekked where. Choose between the indoor dining room where exuberant frescoes depict local scenes (left) and the sunken outdoor dining space. Seating is on the perimeter on stone benches; here Rajasthani applique cushions are arranged around a central fireplace that boasts a roaring log fire from December to March. The walls sport murals of trees in a homespun blue dye on a white background and two musicians in the corner entertain during your meal. Periwinkle blue ceramic plates enhance the summertime picnic feeling.
Members of staff are erudite and warm, and all speak excellent English, Nightly presentations by Fateh Singh Rathore, who for more than 25 years has been a resident of Ranthambhore, are lively and informative. Vanyavilas is lucky to have him as their resident naturalist. As Geoffrey C Ward writes in his book Tiger-Wallahs (2002): "Fateh has lived within Ranthambhore's forested heart as a ranger, mapped and built its roads asia wildlife warden, successfully shifted 12 villages from it as a field director, nearly lost his life defending it against outsiders intent upon its destruction, and helped to document for the first time the secret lives of tigers whose astounding openness his efforts made possible."
If you aren't hooked on tigers before you get to Vanyavilas, my bet is you will be by the time you leave. Those cuddly stripes are super-seductive.
Ranthambhore Road, Sawai Madhopur, Rajasthan 322 001, India
tel: +91 7462 223999 fax: +91 7462 223988
email: reservations@oberoi-vanyavilas.com
Samode Palace near Jaipur, India
"Hurry, hurry...you're late," he hissed, then grabbed me by the arm and disappeared into the dark. I ran after him, through the courtyard, down the steps, through the next courtyard, the dark, heavy Rajasthani air like a blanket, and out through the front door ("two steps, mind"). Then I heard the distant music, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness—I focused on the form of trees, four camels, two horses in the outer court, torches blazing and the fort lit up atop the hill. It was a traditional Rajasthani, red-carpet welcome for a group of visiting dignitaries. I'd almost missed it,
We only just had time to draw breath—and the group came through the main gate into the courtyard. The men were dressed in white kurta pyjamas with marigold garlands, the ladies in saris, and they looked somewhat bemused, A flurry of fireworks from the roof pfutted and pfopped, then the façade of the palace dramatically came alight with hundreds of tiny bulbs etching the outline of windows, doors, arches and stairs (see previous pages). The crowd exhaled as one, the wail of a Rajasthani pipe pierced the night air, and a drummer struck up a traditional welcome song. A tall Rajput, dressed in white with an orange turban, the end of which fluttered down his back like a lick of fire, placed the tilak on each guest's forehead and murmured a greeting. The group was ushered onward and upward—to cocktails, entertainment, dancing and dinner.
Such welcomes can't have been that different a hundred years ago at Samode Palace, I reflected. When the rawal sahib (the hereditary title of the owner) had to receive an important delegation, he would have waited in his red-and-gold reception room, and the same sort of ritual would have occurred outside. Then the guests would have been ushered into his presence; courtesies would have been exchanged, refreshments offered, nautch dances danced, business discussed. The only difference would have been that the ladies wouldn't have accompanied the men; they'd have been secreted up to the zenana above the Durbar Hall where frescoed walls, slatted windows and curtains would have concealed their presence from the men. They would have been able to watch proceedings below; but nobody would have caught a glimpse of them.
"Receptions in the past would have been much the same," concurred Lalit Singh Sisodia, the general manager of sister hotel in Jaipur, Samode Haveli. "Except there would have been more people. All the local people would have joined the procession, and there would have been men on horseback, and camels—maybe even elephants." He sat back and sighed theatrically. "Still, we can't have elephants nowadays, and by doing these gala evenings, we are keeping traditions alive." Indeed they are. There's a global fascination with this particular era of Indian history that spans generations. The BBC's adaptation of The Far Pavilions was filmed at Samode in the 1980s, and proved immensely popular. Partly because of this appeal and partly because much of the palace had been restored for the cameras, the owners decided to open the palace to tourists. Thus the future of their family seat was secured.
Hari Singh Karigar, a master painter of Rajasthani miniatures, was roped in to help with the restoration work on the palace frescoes. He lives in a richly decorated house in the village, and his grandson, Chantush, has a shop in Samode's outer courtyard. Chantush explained how his family of painters (six generations of them) worked on the frescoes in the Durbar Hall, the zenana and the Sultan Mahal, the private chambers of the family. The latter is particularly noteworthy, with blue-and-silver low-level seating, blue-toned scenes of Indian mythology, flora and fauna, and exquisite mirror work. According to Chantush, only natural paints are used; the family create these themselves by grinding rocks from the surrounding mountains with the gum of certain trees to produce the brilliant peacock blues and greens, and royal reds and golds.
Not only were the frescoes repaired, much work was also done on the basic fabric of the building. After all, it is over 450 years old. Built by Rawal Bairi Sal, finance minister to the founder of Jaipur, Raja Jai Singh II, Samode Palace is a classic example of Rajput-Mughal architecture, with its Naples yellow walls and white trim, arches, kiosks and parapets. Both public and private areas are arranged around a series of courtyards on different levels. A relatively recent addition in the forecourt of the Durbar Hall is a swimming pool and Ayurvedic health center and gym. Sensibly enough, the pool is soft-contoured and somewhat old-fashioned in style—a veritable marble-and-mosaic pleasure pool, surrounded by loungers and set in a leafy, walled garden. Slipping into its milky cerulean water after a camel trek in the hills is immensely soothing.
And one thing is certain: the welcome is assured. Whether you get the beefed-up Rajasthani reception, or a simple dignified salute, you'll be the recipient of time-honored Rajput hospitality. At Samode Palace, the glorious past is a constant present.
Samode Haveli, Gangapole, Jaipur 302 002, Rajasthan, India
telefax: +91 141 263 2407/1942/1068/0943 fax: +91 141 263 1397/2370
email: reservations@samode.com
Rajvilas Jaipur, India
I notice that the temple doors are open, and glimpse a flash of white inside. The priest has come—as he does each morning and evening of every year. I cross the bridge, remove my shoes and enter the sanctum with head bowed. We exchange greetings, then he points out the Ganesh statue, the central Parvati one, Brahma on the left and his nandi in front. At the center is the Shiva lingum. I lower my head to receive his blessing, and I offer the shrine some rose petals, then withdraw to the sound of the priest singing: "Ommm, Shiwaaa, ommm..." It's curiously calming—he has a tranquilizing voice.
In front of me, the sun is setting and the sky has taken on the tone of light biscuit; at this time of day the pink in the sandstone bridge becomes more pronounced. The water lilies are tucking in their petals; they're going to bed. The priest and I smile shyly at each other and together we look at the sky. The fortress on one side is silhouetted against the evening sky, and a chattri, or open Rajasthani pavilion, rises in front of me. Time is suspended—momentarily.
I could be in any temple in Rajasthan, right? Wrong. I'm at the center of Mr PRS Oberoi's dream resort, the much lauded Rajvilas which opened in 1998. The fort houses the reception and public rooms; the chattri overlooks the swimming pool and spa. We are standing amongst 32 acres (13 hectares) of landscaped garden, a green oasis within a sandy, dry desert. At the center of it all is the 250-year-old temple, and the priest and I viewing the evening sky.
