Anopura

As anyone who has visited Jaipur will testify, the hustle, bustle, beauty and vibrancy of the city can feel exhilarating and overwhelming in equal measures. But I love the Pink City and am fortunate to travel here on business every year, and this most recent time, I was bound for Anopura. Handy, given my time here is always hectic, and I always like to end my trip with a little relaxation before heading home to London — and this farm retreat promised just that.
 
From Jaipur, it's a 90-minute, sometimes bumpy car ride to Anopura, hidden away in the foothills of the Aravalli Mountains. The landscape gradually moved from the organised chaos of beeping horns to ancient temples, verdant surrounds and chirping birds.
 
Entering Anopura is a strange experience, because you’re suddenly cocooned by lemon groves and frangipani trees, growing abundantly around a setting that feels immaculate and as if it's always been there. The team greet me as though they're genuinely pleased to see me, and not simply because it’s good for business. It must be because they are locals who have been here since the boutique property opened more than a decade ago, I muse. As the manager told me, seeing new and old faces come and go makes the day more fun.
 
After the customary welcome drink, hot towel and local-information share, I am shown the shop, which I uncharacteristically bypass. Having barely slept in four nights, I’m keen to get to my room, though once there, I want to take in all the detail. From the old-fashioned Indian light switches to the block-print cushions and dog-eared array of books piled high on the wooden table outside, overlooking the private pool — everything looks perfectly placed and yet never contrived. This sanctuary manages to retain old-world charm, while feeling chic and modern. This is the sort of quiet luxury I’d take over fancy five-star bells and whistles any day, because it feels considered and unique. It’s as if I’m staying at the house of an architect or interior designer with impeccable taste in Indian artefacts. I later learn the property was built by Aditya Baheti, an entrepreneur who has clearly put heart and soul into every inch of this property. 

There are now one-, two- and three-bedroom villas connected by a sweeping sandy path, with each feeling far enough from the other to give you complete privacy. On the other side of the property are some newer suites, arranged around a large courtyard, leading to a stone-clad infinity pool with the most specular views of the mountains. These rooms tend to be booked by couples, solo travellers and sometimes, as was the case when I visited, groups of families who return annually for a little R 'n' R. I loved being here alone, but it would be wonderful to be here with family, each of us taking our own traditional thatched-roof bungalow, with our own private lounge areas, scattered with more books and old-fashioned games. These suites and indeed all the rooms are managed by a local host, who is there to assist throughout the stay. I felt cared for but never pressured to be anywhere or do anything. 
 
As I head to the restaurant, I see a woman weaving on a handloom, and then spot more of the owners’ antiques, which have clearly been collected over the years. I love the tall ancient vases outside the villas, the colourful paintings and framed prints of Hindu gods, sat in dark wooden cabinets and on brightly coloured walls. Everything has room to breathe and is just so tastefully done.
 
I opt for what turns out to be the best Mediterranean vegetarian food I've had in India, and it’s all cooked using the 40-plus vegetables and 18-plus varieties of herbs and spices grown on this five-acre estate. I’m told part of the reason the food tastes so good is that the plants are treated to daily bhajans (devotional music) and everything is cooked with love. The meat dishes and Indian options look mouthwatering, but I’m not sure how they can improve on the salads, soups and stews. I do try a Rajasthani meal one day, but as good as it is, I prefer the Mediterranean dishes, perhaps because I’ve had so much Indian food while in Jaipur.

There are more books in the restaurant and as I read, three women walk in and we get talking. A mother, daughter and best friend, now all living in America and all on a third visit. I want to chat to them, and I want to read, and do a block-printing class and a pottery workshop run by local village women. I want to do a safari and take a cookery lesson and go hiking. I want to do it all, and I want to do nothing but sit by the pool outside my bedroom, reading, sleeping and relaxing, because it’s just so beautiful and calm here. The phone signal is choppy and it’s a good thing.

In the end, the only thing I do is venture out to a local farm, where I have tea slow-brewed over an open fire and served with home-made biscuits.

My parents came from a village in India, and my grandparents were farmers. As I sat there drinking tea, I imagine what life would have been like had my parents remained in India.  Would I own a boutique hotel like this one? It seems so very peaceful here. I go to bed in the comfiest of beds, grateful for this experience.

Come to Anopura alone to immerse yourself in a quieter, slower world, where the body and mind can truly rest after you’ve taken in the city. Or visit with family and show them the depth that comes from taking real adventures, as opposed to cookie-cutter ones. It’s magical.