Cool Hotels. Kim Inglis
overwhelming. The smells, the barrage of humanity, the honking of horns—all interesting, different, but somehow too much.
This is only one of the reasons why I recommend the Imperial as the hotel of choice in Delhi: for a start, a black Tata Safari or a swanky Mercedes S320 with leather upholstery (instead of an ancient Ambassador that makes a noise rather like a sewing machine on speed) picks you up from the airport, the driver is wonderfully welcoming and informative, pointing out buildings of interest along the way, and the oasis of quiet and calm offered at the entrance gate to the hotel alleviates any worries, Check-in is efficient and friendly and on arrival at the room, all is ordered, beautiful and comforting.
Other reasons are too numerous to list: the art deco structure is in an architectural league of its own, the hotel has just completed an enormous restoration that has transformed its interiors, its historical legacy is legendary, there are over 4,000 original artworks within its walls, the beturbanned or besuited staff outnumber guests by a 3-to-1 ratio, and proudly adhere to that phrase describing Indian hospitality, "Athithi Devo Bhava" or "Guest is God." Furthermore, it is the only hotel in India to have been selected as a member of Preferred Hotels & Resorts Worldwide, a global brand of 110 of the world's finest and most distinctive independently owned luxury hotels and resorts. One word sums up the Imperial: impressive. Make that two: very impressive.
Designed and built in 1931 by DJ Bromfield, an associate of Sir Edwin Lutyens, the Imperial was inaugurated by Lord Willingdon in 1933. Lutyens envisaged that it would be the most luxurious hotel in New Delhi, located as it was on the prestigious Queensway (now Janpath), with a unique blend of Victorian, colonial and informal art deco. Sure enough, its pillared verandahs, 8 acres (3.2 hectares) of sprawling gardens, dining rooms, tea lounges and Royal Ballroom soon became the places to see and be seen. Guests from abroad marveled at its high-domed atrium, marble floors and art deco wall panels, not to mention the elegantly appointed rooms and suites. More significantly, it was within the precincts of the Imperial that Jawaharlal Nehru, Rajendra Prasad and Dr Radhakrishnan held talks about the integration of the princely states into the Union of India and Mohammed Ali Jinnah and Nehru discussed the formation of modern-day Pakistan.
The Imperial recently underwent a major renovation and restoration process under the aegis of Hong Kong-based architect Chandu Chhada. Unlike other so-called heritage hotels where the reworking has resulted in a sanitized, specious recreation of the original, the Imperial has emerged with its original atmosphere intact and all the benefits of modern technology on tap. Its historical legacy—be it in the gold deco design motifs on the lifts echoed on the stone in the ballroom, the superb collection of lithographs, paintings and photographs depicting the British presence in the subcontinent and the landscapes and peoples of India itself, or the meticulously restored period furniture—speaks volumes about the past. But backward-looking it is not. Set firmly in the present are the lines ensuring instant internet connection in all the rooms, the minimalist flower-and-candle arrangements in the corridors, the new music in the public areas (watch out for the Imperial CD), the Bang & Olufsen TV sets in the deco wing and a 100 percent commitment to innovation.
Even though the Imperial describes itself as a "museum hotel," it never seems stuffy or stilted. Rather, it encourages interaction between guest and artwork: you feel comfortable lingering in front of a panoramic photograph of the Coronation Durbar, or if you wander into the Royal Ballroom, you're invited in to admire the magnificent fresco by Bourne & Shepherd that lines the wall atop the stairs. You can take a history tour of the hotel with Ominder Singh Chaudhury, the resident curator who is cataloguing the giant art collection. Or you can just chat with any member of staff who happens to be passing. Staff in the Patiala Peg, the cosy 28-seat bar lined with a remarkable set of photographs of the maharajah of Patiala during World War II, are only too happy to tell you the story of how their bar got its name. Fable has it that the maharajah's team beat the viceroy's at a tent-pegging competition. By plying the opposing team's players with pegs of whisky much larger than the usual ones the night before, and by giving them smaller tent pegs during the match itself, they ensured the maharajah's victory. Giving a nod to history, the bar celebrates the tale by serving 75-milliliter shots instead of the usual 60 milliliters.
Such stories give a human frame to what is essentially a monumental structure, and explain, in large part, why the Imperial is as popular today as it was in the past.
1 Janpath, New Delhi 110 001, India
tel: +91 11 2334 1234 fax: +91 11 2334 2255
email: [email protected]
The Manor New Delhi, India
Hoardings in bright colors declaring "Aarti Plastic House," "Casuals and Formals," "Don't be in the Dark: Ecopower" line the road. There is heat, concrete and dust; a tsunami of fruit sellers, rickshaw-wallahs and drivers with their hands super-glued to their horns, hordes of beggars and cripples. Delhi seems especially confusing and confrontational. My driver has Bollywood movie-music blaring at full volume—and I can't banish terrifying visions of a head-on collision. It is serious sensory overload time. I want to turn the Indian tap off, and switch channels to "normal."
Enter the Manor. An oasis of cool in a cacophonous city. So cool that it isn't in any guidebook. So cool you have to direct the taxi driver to the exclusive gated residential suburb where it is located. The hotel's only downside is that it is a little off the beaten track—45 minutes drive from the airport and 30 minutes from the station. But no matter, once you head into the exclusive suburb of Friends Colony, you know you've arrived. Here, lawns seem the size of football pitches, the streets have speed bumps, and you can hear birds singing. Cross the threshold of Number 77...and exhale.
All is clean, spare and contemporary. Aggressive air-conditioning, sleek lines and angles, the cool of slate and tile, smooth terrazzo floors and a bevy of boys attending to luggage and ushering me into the lobby, An efficient check-in, an ice-cold drink, and the calm of a room in soothing colors where sound-proofing really works. Then a shower with hot water from the tap... Bliss.
It seems horribly ungenerous when in India to want something non-Indian. But, occasionally, you need a fix—and the Manor provides it. Once you're past the woven copper gates, and onto the cobbled stone drive inset with river stones, you could be anywhere. That is its greatest asset. There is a wonderful western menu at the slick restaurant Seventy Seven; or you can have Indian dishes if you prefer. The staff is rigorous, helpful and all speak excellent English; they could have been trained at the Four Seasons. There is instant internet connectivity in each room and the hotel thoughtfully provides you with a laptop if you don't have one. You want a cheese sandwich at 3 am? No problem, there is 24-hour room service.
So how did this 18-room gem of a hotel come about? Housed in a two-storey 1950s country house with generous rooms and bathrooms, terraces and a verandah overlooking an extensive lawn, the building was originally on the outskirts of Delhi. As the suburbs encroached, it became part of the city. In 1998 husband-and-wife team Vinay Kapoor and Shirley Fujikawa of London's Studio u+a decided to transform it into Delhi's first boutique hotel (Kapoor is one of the co-owners). It was an idea ahead of its time, especially in India—but the gamble paid off. People have taken to the concept surprisingly well, and the hotel is often full. It is sensible to book in advance.
"The Studio u+a design team believes in creating environments where the whole is always greater than