By John Fitzgerald
Designed with elegant domes, scalloped arches and broad marble terraces that reflect Mughal as well as Rajput styles of architecture, the Rambagh Palace Hotel has always enjoyed a pretty swell time of it.
With 15 hectares of grounds, including five gardens, the luxury hotel in India’s beautiful and bustling Pink City was a royal guesthouse and hunting lodge prior to becoming a proper palace in 1925.
The epithet Pink City originated in the 1870s when many of the buildings in Jaipur were painted pink as a welcoming gesture extended by the then Maharajah in anticipation of a visit by the Prince of Wales. A lover of pomp and circumstance as well as food, wine and woman, the portly prince would later become Edward VII.
Jaipur ceased to be a princely state after Indian independence in 1947. But for 30 years (until the mid-1950s), the Rambagh, which, oddly, is painted beige rather than pink served as the principal private residence of its ruler, the polo playing Maharaja Jai Singh.
Affable and, like many of his fellow princes, an anglophile, Jai Singh was very much a creature of his class.
The Rambagh Palace storerooms were described as a miniature Fortnum & Mason’s, their shelves neatly stocked with English and European delicacies as well as the finest wines and spirits.More than 400 servants, including nine cooks, kept the Rambagh up to snuff, especially during visits by guests such as the photographer Cecil Beaton, Jacqueline Kennedy when she was American First Lady and Lord Louis Mountbatten, India’s last viceroy.
At Christmas, a servant dressed as Santa Claus, and bearing sacks full of gifts would arrive at the Rambagh on an elephant.
Today, Jai’s 80-something year old widow, Gayatri Devi, known as the Rajmata or Queen Mother (the third of Jai’s three wives, she was touted for years by Vogue magazine as one of the world’s great beauties) used to live in a luxurious house called The Lily Pool on the grounds of the hotel.
As she did when she was Maharani, Devi, one-time member of the Indian parliament who ran afoul of , and was imprisoned by Indira Gandhi, can see peacocks strutting imperiously across the emerald coloured lawns while black-face langur monkeys scamper though the shrubbery.
Criticized at the time by his peers, Jai Singh, who would later become Indian ambassador to Spain, was the first Indian prince to convert a royal residence into a hotel in the 1950s. The Jaipur royal family still owns the Rambagh but it’s been managed since 1972 by the high end Taj Group that operates the famous Taj Lake Palace in Udaipur.
It was near dusk when our van pulled into The Rambagh grounds after a meandering 277-kilometre drive from Delhi. Not yet accustomed to Rajasthani roads, I was at first delighted and then increasingly frustrated to see our route frequently slowed by camels, doddling cows, and fabulously decorated trucks that looked as if they were about to careen off the asphalt at any moment.
Our rooms weren’t ready when we arrived and, by way of distraction, we were offered a tour of the hotel that, happily, commenced only after we had a chance to sample the Grand Martini Flight in the Polo Bar. A Raj relic if there ever was one, the Polo Bar has polo trophies on display, many won during his lifetime by Jai Singh, and walls covered by photographs and other memorabilia celebrating the sporting life of a bygone era.
There are 90 rooms in the former palace, including six suites that, from the several we were shown, uphold the extravagant style of princely India. The Princess Suite, for example, has its own star-shaped pool and fountain built into the living room and huge glass doors and windows that lead to a spacious terrace overlooking a Chinese garden. Another suite known as the Kamal Mahal is located under one of the Rambagh’s domes. I was particularly taken with its wall decoration which has been done in the traditional Rajput style of painting, using vegetable dyes. The Mughals, by contrast, were expert at inlay work with coloured stones.
My ‘superior’ room was located at the end of one of the first floor verandas built around the Rambagh’s interior courtyard. It was pleasant enough, with high ceilings and plenty of space. But a marble fountain for me to gaze upon as I lay in bed contemplating the mortgage back home, might have solidly sold me.
Going with the princely lifestyle theme, I hot-footed it to the pool where I hoped to sneak in a pre dinner dip. Huge and magnificent, and completely enclosed, the pool was empty when I dove in and stayed that way for the next quarter hour that I was there. Again, I saw the lovely Rajput style of decoration on the walls. The ceiling was inlaid with a giant, eight-pointed star.
Refreshed, and ready for dinner, I changed and joined my friends in the main restaurant called Swarma Mahal. Under sumptuous-looking chandeliers, we were served by elaborately-costumed waiters who brought such dishes as Indian style cream less tomato broth flavoured with coriander and spices, and huge prawns that has been stir-fired in Marsala gravy.
In fact, I had such a swell time at her former digs that I was thrilled to encounter the Rajmata later in my trip. I found myself seated across the lounge from her at a hunting lodge in Ranthambore National Park where we were spending the night. I’d been reading the Rajmata’s autobiography that I’d purchased in Jaipur and approached her, with only moderate salaaming, about perhaps granting me an interview.
The instant I presented myself and attempted to explain the reason for my intrusion, the Rajmata dismissed me, something about her distaste for all journalists ringing in my ears. Feeling suddenly like one of the Clampetts, I retreated red-faced back to the sofa where my erstwhile chums, who had prodded me into action, masking their smirks of delight.
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To get further information or make reservations at The Rambagh Palace, log on to: www.tajhotels.com
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