Saimi Sattar steps back in the past to relive the blissful luxury experienced by Rajput princesses of yore... and has encounters with unforeseen adventures
A short sharp call made Sita Ramji glance up in its direction and then trace a straight line towards the opposite side with his vision. I squinted to spot what he was so intently staring at but the dense foliage coupled with the morning sun bouncing off the serrated cliffs made it next to impossible. When I turned towards him, Sita Ramji had placed a finger on what would have been his lips, under the mask, while he gestured that we should freeze in our tracks with the other. “Leopard,” he said softly and added, “The langurs, on the other side, sounded that warning call. The big cat seems to be stationary now.” Till that penultimate moment, I’d been daydreaming, comparing the cliffs that helmed us to Pride Rock, straight out of The Lion King, half expecting (and hoping) Rafiki to hold up Simba for the world to see.
But rather than living a film, adventure found us on the last day of our visit — yet again — when we were least expecting it. We’d reached Amanbagh in Ajabgarh, Rajasthan after a head start from Delhi. Since we halted for not more than 10 minutes to stretch our legs, we covered the 263 km in a matter of four hours flat. The road, except for a few stretches, is any driver’s dream. So, we arrived well in time for lunch.
LAY OF THE LAND
But that was just one of the many things that made us feel like we were the chosen ones. No sooner had we stepped out of the car, than a Sanskrit song of welcome heralded our arrival. While all of us are used to an aarti and a showering of rose petals, this was a first. The sonorous voice, ably-aided by the acoustics powered by the high sandstone and marble ceiling, made our spirits soar far above.
The hotel site, we were told, was used as late as the 19th century by Maharaja Jai Singh of Alwar as a base for hunting in the jungles of Sariska. And the sight that greeted us made us believe that we had time-travelled to the era where we could very well have been maharanis in more leisurely times. Stretched out before us was a large pool, bordered by a columned corridor, that could be set as much in Rome as in Rajasthan. Flanked by rooms (if these could be called so... more about that later) on either side, the water sparkled invitingly but Covid protocol ensured that we stayed clear of it.
Nestled in the valley between two symmetrical Aravalli hills, the location of the hotel — spread over a sprawling 45 acres — further adds to its charm. Built in a style, that is immediately associated with the confluence of the influence of the Rajputs and Mughals, it incorporates rose-hued turrets, domes, cupolas, vaulted entrances and extensive use of sandstone. But the past and present intersect not just in style. While the hotel is a fairly new construction from 2016, the wall is a remnant of the 19th century.
The rooms are divided into pool pavillions, terrace haveli suite, garden haveli suite and courtyard haveli suite, depending on what they overlook. We were glad to be escorted to one of the 15 pool pavillions, the top-range accommodation. And there is a reason why I earlier said that it can’t be described as a room, for these are independent enclosures, each constructed separately. A short walk across the small courtyard led to a wooden door that opened into what can be described as a connecting area between the bathroom — on the left — and the bedroom, on the right. Another door in the front led us to... you guessed it, our very own private pool. The glee, especially after not having used one for two seasons during the pandemic, was unmatched. The bathroom and the bedroom too have doors opening outdoors.
The focal point of the large-sized bathroom was a jade bathtub. The two basins in the same stone are placed on different sides of the room. Four large wooden doors conceal the shower, toilet and two walk-in closets.
Interestingly, everything in the spacious bedroom, including the sides and the base of the bed, was made of marble and sandstone. I’m glad that while there’s a music player, there’s no TV. If we’ve boarded a time machine to the days of yore, we might as well not allow the trappings of the modern world to barge in with their breathless right here, right now tone and tenor.
So, we decided to make the best use of our facilities and dived straight into the pool. Though small, measuring 28x9 feet, the very idea of having one to yourself is exhilarating, to say the least. It helped that the pavillion building shielded us from the afternoon sun. Not surprisingly, the hours slipped by and while we were reluctant to step out and almost debated tossing a coin to decide who would be the first to head out for a shower when an unforeseen event precipitated our quick exit.
WALK INTO ADVENTURES
Delhi was practically wilting under the heat and to our pleasant surprise, Ajabgarh, which is technically a desert, had a sky that was overcast with dark clouds laden with rain when we started. Sita Ramji, a naturalist attached to the property, helped us into the open Thar that was to be our vehicle for evening outings. We made our way through the circuitous route which had towering cliffs with a variety of foliage on one side and open fields on the other. Sita Ramji pointed out places of interest and the history behind them. The Ajabgarh Fort loomed up in vision as it stood proud, invincible and independent. A dargah popular among locals as well as the visitors had children bounding about. Small villages with a school, a community centre and more sped past. We were not even halfway through the tour when the rain gods doused us with their bounty. While the villagers were amused and wanted to extend their hospitably to shield us from the force of nature, we revelled in the showers. We hadn’t gone too far when the rain ceased and, as if to signal the surprises that we had in store, a magnificent rainbow stretched out across the sky. We wanted to search for a pot of gold at its end but just sat to quietly take in the views, the chirping of a variety of birds and the humdrum slow rhythm of everyday life, commonplace for the residents here while being essentially non-existent for us who come from the urbanscape where speed is of the essence and keeping busy a mantra of being successful. I sent a short prayer, thanking the powers that be for the manna from heaven, which was priceless. By this time, we’d realised how valuable Sita Ramji was to our excursion. He called out a namaste to the villagers — most of whom he knew by name — pointed out birds by their mere calls or wing colours or beak shapes while enmeshing all of this with tales of glory from the past. Returning from the excursion, both of us were a little quiet trying to absorb the wealth of information that he had imparted.
But, once you are grateful, heaven ensures that the premium multiplies manifold. We had timed the trip to coincide with my daughter’s birthday. As we made our way to our room, we sensed that something was up... and we were right. The short path in the courtyard was lined with diyas leading to the room and two hotel staff — a man and a woman — sang good wishes for her. The room had a special chocolate and pineapple cake waiting for us. The day was turning out to be an unprecedented one for the birthday girl.
The next day, early morning, we headed to Sariska Tiger Reserve — which is a little less than 30 km from the hotel — in the hope of spotting one of the many species of wild cats found here. Spread over 881 sq km, it is home to leopards, jungle cats, caracals and striped hyenas, besides the tiger. In January 2005, there were no tigers left in Sariska and so in 2008, two tigers from Ranthambhore National Park were relocated here. At present, there are 23 tigers that lord over the area, informed Sita Ramji, and added that each of them has a territory spread over a radius of about 40-60 km. So, we peeled our eyes to spot one, while riding the open jeep in different directions on the instructions of the several trackers that we met. However, none of the five species that are found here acquiesced, we spotted the other animals in abundance. We lost count of the number of peacocks, as not one but several, unfurling their feathers at every bend of the road. Then, there were herds of nilgais, to be seen at every water body in sight, which didn’t bother to even blink while we stood not more than three feet away. There were herds of spotted deer frolicking amidst the brush, monkeys and langurs swinging on branches or chewing on leaves but the best was a wild boar trundling past with her four piglets. But, no feline of any kind. Of course, if you speak with a wildlife expert, s/he is likely to tell you that only focussing on spotting a wild cat is a flawed concept when it comes to a safari. Though it was only late morning, the heat had begun to rise and we beat a retreat to the haven of our hotel.
UNANNOUNCED VISITORS
We first spotted one, then two more followed and then, within a blink of an eye, there was an entire carload of monkeys. Initially, they swung on the trees that surrounded us and then, growing bolder, clambered down as the leader of the pack made a dash for the iPad which was lying farther away from us. By this time, we had picked our mobiles and scuttled inside and quickly called the hotel reception which responded at lightning speed. They scared away the primates and told us that one person would be stationed outside when we wanted to use the pool. But we reflected, it was not the monkeys who were invading our space rather we were the ones who had stepped into their habitat. The excitement over, we quickly dressed to head out for what has been labelled as the ‘cow dust tour’ or what translates as godhuli bela, a time which often makes its appearance in Hindi literture (think Munshi Premchand).
NOT SCARY ENOUGH
We ventured out in the evening to go to Bhangarh Fort, which holds the distinction of being the spookiest place in India. On the way, Sita Ramji narrated a tale where everything — from magic to revenge and bloodshed in times past — played a part in the place becoming such a hit on the haunted tourist circuit. Despite the tales of an omnipresence, there was not even a hint of eeriness. No squeaky doors, no unaccounted for sounds or appearance and disappearance of a woman in white akin to the script of a Hindi film. Rather, it was the architecture, the intricate carvings of figurines on the shikhara of the temples as well as the well-planned layout of the markets in the 16th-century fort that had us enthralled. It, of course, helped that place was choc-a-bloc with tourists. Friends, families, young newly-married couples — where the women demurely walked two steps behind and with ghunghats pulled across their faces — often accompanied by an entourage of elderly and children. We wanted to climb to the top of the monument to take in a view of the countryside but the minor issue of a snapped sandal strap put an end to any such excursion.
We believed that we had had enough excitement for the day but... there was a dinner planned at the Library Terrace, on the first floor, underneath the star-lit sky. The path leading to the area where we were to dine and the stairs surrounding it were lit with tiny diyas and lined with fresh flowers. The pool, from above, reflecting the lights of the structure around took on a different hue while the mood was further elevated by the singers who rendered all-time favourite ghazals accompanied by a harmonium, flute and tabla. The food, especially Dahi ke kebabs, Dal baati, Ker sangri and Gatte ki subzi (yes, there was much more), was delectable. Add to it service that was personalised yet non-intrusive and you had the makings of a perfect evening. The almost perfectly full moon had the selenophile in me in raptures. But, then, as I said at the beginning, nature had indeed conspired to create an experience that can’t be bought by all the wealth in the world.
TREK AND REST
We were supposed to check out the next afternoon and decided to go for our last excursion. It was during this trek to Somsagar Lake, which was commissioned to welcome Emperor Akbar during his visit to Ajabgarh in 1598, that we had our (non) encounter with the leopard. But even minus the sighting, the trek was well worth it. The marble steps of the quarry have been polished by the comings and goings of villagers, cattle and goats alike over the years since the path was first built. You have to watch your step as it can be pretty slippery at times. During our ascent, we met two villagers who recounted how a week back a leopard had preyed on two of their newly-bought goats for his lunch. However, the gentle breeze at the top, the serene atmosphere, the placid lake which was thick with water chestnuts grown by the villagers and the sweet ant eater birds fluttering about almost belied the tale of gore that we had just heard. It was a place to rest, rejuvenate and heal. We did just that. For a while. Before making our way back to the city and ‘real’ life as we city-dwellers know it.