The Houses Of The Painted Dawn
The dawning of Vivaana in Shekhawati shows Us an atmospheric yet contemporary base camp for days of exploring the region’s open-air galleries
It’s June and the heat is on. The trip is short and my expectations high. I am afraid I will crush all resort-like enjoyments under the weight of my Quest for Knowledge. I have never been to Shekhawati, a big painted hole in my mental Rajasthan map. A simple ‘been-to-Shekhawati’ won’t do for me; I am all geared up to get a sense of the region.
There’s a ray of hope on the horizon, called Vivaana, the heritage haveli I’m going to. I learn that ‘Vivaana’ means almost exactly that—the first rays of the rising sun. The hotel occupies two restored nineteenth-century havelis, rich with frescoes. Maybe I can experience the Shekhawati of ‘open-air museum of painted havelis’ fame without actually having to step out into the open?
The first sight is promising. A typical haveli façade, paintings enlivening it, old-world jharokhas, a grand entrance door—it is all in place. Plus, there is a bright orange Ambassador that announces the name of the hotel on its number plate.
Clockwise: The painted wall of the coffee room; a bedroom at the haveli; and Vivaana’s cute Amby
Stepping inside the outer courtyard is even more rewarding. Playful multiple levels, beautifully painted frescoes all around, a bel tree in the middle. A baithak, once meant to host munimssitting cross-legged amidst white sheets and pillows, thumbing through their bahee-khatas, is now the reception. Another is now a recreation area with a chaupar board painted on the floor. The rear door from the outer courtyard leads to an inner courtyard, with guest rooms around it. This is typical haveli behaviour. Havelis are sometimes designated as one-court, two-court or three-court—the front court would be more public and the inner ones relatively private, often called the zenana.
So then, here I am in Shekhawati, in a pair of typical Shekhawati-style, painted, two-court havelis, comfortably, tastefully and often deliciously restored without disturbing most of the frescoes. With air-conditioning, sumptuous mattresses, swimming pool, bar, spa, lawn and the luxury of mysterious narrow passages to explore. But after lunch, instead of sinking into the goose-down pillows, I’m walking the village streets, trying to put the haveli into perspective. Thankfully the monsoon is with me. It has become breezy and cloudy, and soon the skies are pouring their approval on Project ‘Let’s-quickly-understand-Shekhawati’.
The tea room
The village, called Churi-Ajitgarh, is unlike any I have seen. Not a cluster of houses that has spread and grown haphazardly, it’s more of a planned arrangement. Its right-angled grid of wide streets, spacious houses, wells, schools and hospitals, its readiness to play with diverse architectural styles in its nineteenth-century havelis and temples—all speak of local merchants out in the world discovering, loving and wholeheartedly embracing a rich new life.
And that is the story of Shekhawati. The region was on the trade routes connected to the ports of western India, and Marwari business families flourished here. In the nineteenth century, these entrepreneurs moved to cities such as Bombay (Mumbai) and Calcutta (Kolkata), building businesses and fortunes there, and havelis (and schools and temples and wells) back home. The havelis were decorated with paintings that depicted stories from the epics and details of everyday mundane life. A Krishna stealing clothes while the gopis bathed; a Raj-erasipahi; floral patterns—the themes and quality of the paintings varied. Usually, the havelis were hardly lived in. The dream of returning to the roots remained a dream and it’s only in recent years that the Shekhawati havelis have emerged as a tourism hub.
In Churi-Ajitgarh, the leading Marwari family is that of the Nimanis. Vivaana is put together from their havelis. They earned their money and name trading cotton in Bombay. Their biggest house here is simply called ‘the kothi’ and is the imaginative centre of the village, up on a small hillock. There are also Kejriwal and Saraf havelis in the village.
An understated bedroom
However, Vivaana is now the property of Atul and Devna Khanna, who also run a lovely homestay in Delhi. Interested in heritage, they travelled miles through Shekhawati looking for the right haveli. Their story itself makes a bit of an epic adventure. The buying of a haveli—a process that involved convincing and negotiating with multiple owners spread out in many cities. The process repeated for the twin haveli—for which they waited a good five years. The restoration—how to convert a late-nineteenth century family house into a twenty-first century heritage resort. Indeed, how to have rooms with attached bathrooms in a building whose architects had no inkling that one day loos would be acceptable inside a house?
New spaces carved out, rooms combined, staircases shifted, plumbing and electricity in place, frescoes treated, crumbling plaster stabilized… and the ‘Ram Pratap Nimani’ and ‘Kalicharan Nimani’ havelis did metamorphose into a contemporary and comfy hotel. Add a nice lawn, a swimming pool, a modern kitchen and garnish with a spa. Yet, the triumph is that at Vivaana they still manage to leave you with a strong sense of living in a haveli.
Food? In the best tradition, it’s simple but tasty. They serve mainly north Indian fare but, importantly, different dishes do taste different while the rotis and paranthas come out hot and perfect. Soups and desserts add the Continental inputs.
Besides being a base for exploring Shekhawati, Vivaana seems a great place for family get-togethers and parties. Camel rides and village walks are organized, and more activities are on the anvil—such as a spiritual retreat this September. Vivaana, the first rays of the morning sun, does promise a lovely day ahead…
- Location Churi-Ajitgarh Village (10km from Mandawa), Jhunjhunu, Rajasthan; nearest airport Jaipur (175km), then drive via Sikar, Nawalgarh and Mukundgarh (3.5hours)
Inner Peace
We escape the city for the Park Hyatt—Chennai’s latest luxury hotel—right in its heart
Guindy isn’t what you might call the most elegant locality in town even though it claims the Raj Bhavan as its most famous address. This bustling heart of Chennai, almost equidistant from the airport and nearly everywhere else, is home also to the state’s premier tech university, not forgetting the IIT–M, one of the first industrial estates in the country, and a national park. The IT ribbon unfurls just yonder. Yet Guindy remained unprepossessing. Perhaps it hadn’t the luxury of time?
The turnaround, now that it has finally arrived, is sumptuous. It’s surprising no one thought of it before, but three significant hotel chains—ITC, Starwood and Hyatt—have catapulted Guindy straight into the heights, sometimes quite literally, of super luxury. The Park Hyatt, where there used to be a car showroom, exemplifies this new Guindy. It rises like a dark water sylph, grey and glossy, intent on establishing both luxury and understatement in equal measure.
Clockwise: A sprawling Park suite; the Apartment, a residential-style banquet and the lobby aglow at night
So the pick-up is a limousine-d Innova with liveried personal assistance, the lobby is a sweeping ode to international homogeneity, the artistic thread-and-spindles installation by the bank of elevators appears inspired by the textile traditions of the South, the bathroom fittings are Grohe, the bidet Roca, the suites are very spacious, housekeeping prepares the temperature-controlled plunge pool for a ‘wellness bath’ while you are away fine dining, the concierge greets guests by name, they will remember what papers you like to read, and the breakfast trolley arrives equipped with a toaster to pop out crisp bread. A lily pond and a rooftop infinity pool (divine at sunset, when the sea breeze sets in) are other attractions. The Park Hyatt is mostly content inhabiting the line that divides discretion and distinction, evident even in the evocatively named Antahpura Spa, unexpectedly another study in browns and beiges, its silent corridor leading to six chambers of muted lights and soft-spoken masseurs, the absence of colour relieved only by a few strewn rose petals, a lone rectangle of brightly-coloured silk, and the dancer’s salangai (ghungroo) shaken gently to awaken guests lulled into drowsing.
Somewhere out of this well-heeled world of auditory muting leaps The Flying Elephant, a seven-level restaurant for gastronomic indulgence, brilliant both in concept and execution. It begins with a sunken, book-lined bar, ascends variously over steps, a spiral staircase and an antique elevator to six open kitchens and dining areas, the upper levels growing darker and quieter, allowing guests to choose their ambience and cuisines at will. The view from the top, the private dining space, confirmed the delightful exuberance about this already popular hangout. That, and the Chettinad-inspired fragrance that permeates the Antahpura Spa, is what sets the Park Hyatt apart. I could have sworn their exquisite blend of saffron and clove followed me about for days.
- Location 39, Velachery Road, Near Raj Bhavan, Chennai; 15 minutes from the airport, 40 minutes from the railway station
No comments:
Post a Comment