I’d fallen asleep on the drive from Delhi to Jaipur, so my arrival in the pink city felt all the more dream-like. Weaving past painted elephants and holy cows, the white scalloped arches and silver domes of The Leela Palace Hotel come into view like a glittering mirage, beckoning me like a siren call. Helped out of the car by my chauffer, he leads me to a courtyard paved with tiles so shiny I could skate on them.
In one corner a young man plays the hand drums. In another an older man sits in an arched recess playing the santur. All around me are women whirling like dervishes, the skirts of their dresses fanning out like flamenco dancers as they spin on the spot. Two men in vibrant fuchsia robes sing Rajasthani folk songs while playing the ravanahatha, a violin-like instrument with bells on the bow.
Amid all the music and movement is a man dressed as an exquisitely embroidered horse dancing in the sunshine, his smile as wide as his costume. The women lure me into the lobby, where I’m showered with rose petals and given a silk scarf to wear. A lady holding a candle-filled tray blesses me by moving it in a circular motion in front of my face. Marking my forehead with a paste made from sandalwood, she offers me a chilled glass of hibiscus juice. It’s a welcome fit for a queen and I’m starting to feel like one. The opulence continues when I’m led by my butler to my own private villa complete with a plunge pool and day bed.
The bathroom is a marble marvel, its ornate silver mirror something I can imagine Marie Antoinette admiring herself in. On the coffee table is a tableau made entirely of chocolate. After a quick dip in the pool I’m served lunch on a silver tray from a five-tiered tiffin box. Inside it are all manner of culinary treasures: decadent butter chicken, fragrant pulao rice, and a sensational yellow lentil dal humming with spices. I devour the lot while lounging on my day bed. All that’s missing is a dashing man to fan me with peacock feathers. I’m sure my butler would oblige if I asked him nicely.
I’m on the Leela Palace Trail across Northern India (the hotel group also offers a tour of the South taking in Chennai and Hyderabad). My journey began in Delhi, which, with its daredevil tuk-tuk drivers, colourful markets and frenetic energy, is the India of the popular imagination. All life is here and everything is taken to extremes: the colours are brighter, the sounds louder, and smells more potent. It’s an assault on the senses in the best possible way and you can’t help but feel heart-thumpingly alive when you’re there. After a whistle-stop tour of Old Delhi, where the chillies in the spice market were so intense they made me sneeze, returning to the Leela Palace hotel felt like entering a cocoon of calm and comfort amid the chaos.
Jaipur, Rajasthan’s capital got its 'pink city' moniker in 1876 when its then ruler, Maharaja Ram Singh, asked for all the buildings to be painted a terracotta pink to welcome the Prince of Wales. The nickname (and paint colour) stuck and today the walled city seems sprung from Wes Anderson’s imagination: the ornate façade of the Palace of Winds looks like the Grand Budapest Hotel.
With the September sun beating down on my back, I’m given a tour of the City Palace, home to Jaipur’s royal family. It’s so perfect it looks like a film set. The 'hall of beauty' is elaborately decorated with gold leaf and intricate tilework, it walls and mirrors embellished with red and green glass that glows in the light like gemstones. The magnificent Blue Room upstairs is where the Maharajas used to take shelter from the monsoon rains. Everything is so breathtaking I’m running out of superlatives.
Back at the Leela Palace I dine at Jamavar, which is entirely lit by candlelight. It’s like stepping back in time. The interiors are inspired by the thikri mirror work at the Sheesh Mahal (Palace of Mirrors) at the Amber Fort, where dazzling mosaics made from meticulously cut mirrors and coloured glass glimmer like stars. Decorated with 350,000 hand-cut mirrors, the effect inside Jamavar is equally spellbinding. It’s a place many a man has got down on one knee. The food lives up to my lofty expectations.
Ordering from a menu inlaid with mother-of-pearl, I feast like a king on smoked lamb and black lentil dal to the soothing sounds of the santur. Returning to my room, a bath has been drawn for me and strewn with rose petals. I lie in the water and soak up the memories of a city that will forever feel like a dream.
An hour’s flight from Jaipur lies Udaipur, the 'white city' and former capital of the Mewar Kingdom. With its floating palaces and tranquil serenity, it’s the Lake Como of India minus George Clooney. I arrive White Lotus-style on the Leela Palace’s private boat, which takes me across the calm waters of Lake Pichola. During the journey I pass the swan white Taj Lake Palace that seems to levitate in the middle of the lake. Hauntingly beautiful, it’s somewhere Agatha Christie might have set a novel.
Given a royal welcome, I’m showered with petals and serenaded as I enter the Leela Palace. In the lobby is a floral display made from hundreds of roses. Led to my room by my butler, he rushes out to find a chair so I can admire the view of the lake from my balcony. I feel like Lucy Honeychurch. On my pillow is a vial of the hotel’s signature scent, Tishya, inspired by the lotus flower and the elusive Nilgiri, which only blooms once every 12 years.
After an invigorating sunrise yoga session and an Indian head massage at the Leela spa, I take a tuk-tuk into town to shop for a cashmere scarf and a miniature painting of a peacock. Diwali is approaching and the city is preparing for it. Outside the Jagdish temple women are selling garlands of marigolds, their fingertips stained orange by the flowers.
Inside dozens of worshippers are ringing bells, clashing cymbals and chanting in unison to the Hindu god Vishnu, protector of the universe. The sound is so powerful I feel it in my chest. Back at the hotel I enjoy a picnic by the banks of Lake Pichola. Reclining on a pillow-strewn lounger drinking cups of Assam and eating cucumber sandwiches, it feels very ‘last days of the Raj’, and as if I could be joined at any moment by E.M. Forster.
Making the most of my final evening in Rajasthan, I dine under the stars at the Leela’s al fresco restaurant, Sheesh Mahal. It’s a clear night and across the water the illuminated City Palace casts a golden glow on the lake, making it shimmer like a Van Gogh painting. A single morel is served flecked with gold leaf, while bite-sized chicken and lamb kebabs are wonderfully moist and delicately spiced.
After dinner I’m taken on a midnight cruise around the lake. As the city sleeps the boat cuts through the water like a sword through silk. It’s almost pitch-black and eerily quiet. The only sound I can hear is the gentle lapping of the water against the boat. As it drifts across the lake chasing the moon, I’m left with the same feeling I had in Jaipur; that I’m awake within a dream. But while Jaipur wows with its majesty and splendour, Udaipur seeps into your soul and makes you see the world differently.
The Leela Palace Trail across Northern India, taking in Delhi, Jaipur and Udaipur, starts at £499 a night for six nights during the winter season (October to April). For more information or to book visit: theleela.com