“On Earth there is no heaven, but there are pieces of it.”
– Jules Renard
I got out from our bronze-colored car to help my mom with her bags. My feet had just touched that gray cobblestoned pathway and my hair picked that slight breeze in the air, when I was immediately surrounded by the smiles of two immaculate looking security guards who had already taken the bags out of the dicky and were escorting us to the entrance of what seemed like a bewitching dream, waiting to be experienced.
We were standing in the arrival parkway of one of the grandest hotels in the country, Taj Falaknuma in Hyderabad. Having been cooped up in our house for far too long in a pandemic plagued world, coupled with the anxieties of having had to nurse ourselves back to health post being tested positive, my family and I needed a getaway. We just didn’t know it. But when my casually browsing eyes caught the hotel package offer, I wondered whether it would do us good to indulge in the decadence that was Taj. On top of it, it was the perfect occasion as well – my mother’s birthday was coming up.
So, after a frantic discussion and the usual defense of being fiscally responsible were thrown my way by my father, my sister and I finally made our parents agree to spend one day and one night at the hotel. The added benefit of not having to again cook for three picky eaters, even though just for a day and much less on her birthday, perhaps made the decision easier for my mother.
And so, on the day of, once we had done our due check-in procedures, we stepped into the other side from under the preserved arches of the palace foyer. It was like the line between dream and reality had got blurred. We were suddenly transported to some vignette-framed vintage setting. And there waited our chariot. Literally, a chariot. Complete with a bejeweled horse pulling a red and gold seeped carriage beside which stood a man, waiting to usher us in. As we paused there in wonder, the security guard perked up and asked us if we wanted to take a photograph with the carriage. Being someone who detested taking photos of myself, I just shied away and let my parents take one. He insisted a group photo and I awkwardly laughed my way into the frame, not knowing how to say no. But now that I think back to it, I feel that moment was the perfect parallel to what lay ahead. The staff were dedicated towards making sure you have a good time and remember every moment of it. They were as enthusiastic about your arrival as were you, or sometimes even more.
As we winded through the driveway lanes, we were greeted by the splendor of the palace, the overview of the city and the opulence of nature. There were peacocks, pigeons, and squirrels who acknowledged our arrival on the way, like the houseguests of the hotel who perceived the patrons in poise. The sound of the clopping horse’s feet, the sight of the elegant architecture, and the smell of the resplendent garden flowers readied our senses for the when we finally came to the palace itself.
Taj Falaknuma was like that legend which lived up to its name and more. Its subtle grey exterior with ivory lampposts reminded me of a sophisticated gentleman suited in gray, wearing white pocket squares. We descended from the carriage, and the cloud nine that we were already in, and were welcomed by the manager and the staff. They showed us the grounds from the quaint balcony overlooking the city, like one would show a guest around their house. They too requested to take our picture in front of the carriage against the backdrop of the palace and I obliged with embarrassment again. As we shuffled closer for an uncommon family portrait, the manager said, “And by the way, Happy Birthday ma’am!”, to my mother who was still taking in the breathtaking beauty of her surroundings. She immediately blushed and somehow managed to mutter a thank you through the mile-wide smile that had crept up her face. It definitely did good for the photo. But she didn’t know that they knew. And even though I did, having mentioned it while booking the rooms at their request, I didn’t think they would make it a point to personally wish her. Being a homemaker, I think my mother often felt overshadowed by our hectic schedules versus the humdrum of her regular life. So, when someone outside of our circle went out of their way to wish on her special day, those few words had a lot more weight than any birthday present. As she stood here beaming for the picture, I just wanted to capture that moment. I wanted to capture that moment of when I knew that I may have just given her and my family the most expensive gift till date, yet that blush on my mother’s face, the wonder on my father’s and the excitement on my sister’s was beyond it all. But how do you capture such a multi-dimensional emotion in a two-dimensional frame.
As my thoughts moved on and so did the carriage, we then saw the palace in its full glory. With two majestic marble stairways to the entrance, it was a picture of splendor. We descended up the stairs and like a scene in the movies, we were showered with rose petals. Believe me, not even my mom has ever welcomed me with such love. The journey from the stairs to the living room lobby reception, to the curving corridor of our rooms seemed to float by. The staff were courteous, caring, and conscious of all our needs. Being swept up in the surreal space, I had forgotten to take my sister’s and my suitcase from the bellboy whom I saw taking all the luggage to our parent’s room. “I am sorry, I think I may need help in getting my suitcase to the room”, I enquired. No longer than the words had escaped my mouth that I saw the bellboy coming towards us with our suitcase. Like a genie who had appeared out of nowhere to fulfil my wish. And then we opened the doors to our suite, and I realized what it actually feels like to have a wish come true.
The elegant four-poster bed with royal powder blue drapes hanging over it caught my eye first. It was like a cozy cocoon calling out to us with its freshly laundered sheets white and soft, as if they were made by blowing on a thousand dandelions. The sun poured into the spacious room, filling the perfectly preserved architecture of the past with the whimsy. I wandered to writing desk subconsciously and found a note by the hotel. As I read through the handwritten by the hotel manager wishing us a pleasant stay and emphasizing his service for any requests that we may have, I could hear my sister scrambling across the room. Then I heard a shriek, she had found the closet, complete with vintage cupboards and antique mirror. And then there was another one, she had found the bathroom, twice as big as the closet and with a sparkling bathtub. Laughing at her child-like wonderment now inflicted upon the bed, I opened the balcony doors to properly welcome the sunshine and was met with of the beauty of the billowing clouds. Raptured with them, I almost missed my parents of the opposite side of the palace waving to us. No doubt they had also been through the same roller coaster of a ride that is a Taj room. We waved back and they signaled us to come over. We walked back the length of the palace to reach their room and found a lovely surprise, albeit it was for my mother. Delicate leaves were picked and arranged to spell out happy birthday for her right at the entrance of their room. We toppled inside to find her reading a personal handwritten card wishing her a birthday from the hotel staff and a promise to make it memorable. Amidst the squeals of my sister, I found a cloche sitting silently on the sofa table. “What’s this?”, I questioned lifting it up. Beneath the cloche was a cute little chocolate cake waiting to be cut by my mother. I brought it to her and we sang the obligatory birthday song as she portioned it for each of us. We fed each other the treats and my parents, who had never really considered the luxuries of life as something they deserved, finally began to feel a little at home, harboring a love for the hospitality shown.
Evening brought with it an astounding palace tour followed by a Sufi setup to scintillate us. We learnt about the castle through prestige stories of the past and were serenaded under the full moon by melodies of the present. When the last song ended, it was like finishing a great chapter in a good book, when you just needed a moment to take it all in before you could move. We rambled through the courtyard and found ourselves in an exquisite open space dining area, lit up with candles and lanterns. It was the Golbunglow, reserved for the decadent dinners and special occasion feasts. My dad stood there mesmerized, yearning to include that experience on this tour too but knowing that would mean another onslaught on the wallet. So, we were promptly ushered to the dining place next door, Adaa, for some light courses and casual conversations before retiring to our rooms. My dad gave the Golbunglow another side glance while leaving, perhaps trying to suffice his wish with a visual treat rather than the out-of-question physical presence.
As we walked out in the starry skies, we saw the palace in another shade of its splendor, like a beautiful woman dressed up for a special night. The fountains in the courtyard were lit up, bushes adorned with fairy lights and the palace itself in some sort of a spotlight that hit its contours just right. We lazed back to our suite soaking in the beauty and struck up a discussion on what a day this had been. We went around the room till it was my turn, but I obviously still didn’t know how to capture what I had felt, and seen mirrored in my parents’ and sister’s faces, into words. So I just offered to order room service and we all tucked in, our bellies thanking us as we later tucked ourselves into the cozy beds. I couldn’t fall asleep immediately as always and so I walked out into the balcony. The November air was a bit chilly, but I seemed to be cocooned by my plush pyjamas and intimate thoughts. As I leaned against the balcony banister, the scene reverberated my unspoken reflections. My day had been just what I was seeing then, a serene background that was lit up, as was I, from within.
Day two of the trip started early with my sister unnervingly waking me up from my slumber while going to an early morning workout session at the hotel gym. I bemused at her energy even in the early hours as I made myself my mandatory cup of morning coffee. Over at my parent’s room, they had woken up much earlier to see the sunrise over a shared cup of tea. Once we were all through with our varied morning routines, we headed back to the dining space for our complimentary breakfast. The bellboy, who was increasingly becoming a friendly face around, told us where to go. It was the same space as last night, so I walked in to ask for a table. The staff wished me good morning and escorted me to a seating right where we had left our glances last night, the Golbunglow. I hesitated and told them that we were just here for our breakfast and perhaps this wasn’t a part of the package. The manager smiled at me and politely said, “Ma’am, you may choose to sit in our dining room inside or here at the Golbunglow outside, but we will be delighted to upgrade you to this space. We want you and your family to have the entire experience of being at a palace , including the fine dining in true luxurious terms.” Beaming, we took our seats overlooking the entire city as the waiters brought out the breakfast spread. I could see my dad was already full with happiness of having had the opportunity to experience something that we thought was out of our reach. A meal was never so rewarding.
Soon it was time to go. We packed our bags, paid the bill, and as we were leaving, the manager handed me something. “A little token of remembrance for our side, ma’am. Hope you enjoyed your visit.” Pleasantly surprised, I opened the package to find two framed sets of the picture that we had taken at the beginning of the tour. I could see my father standing there, proud that his daughters had reached a place where they took him to tours. I could see my sister brimming with excitement about the day to come, already at home around this lavishness. I could see my mother, still blushing from all the attention she had received, squeezing my hand to show her affection. And I could see myself, an epitome of awkwardness but wearing that tiny smile of satisfaction of having been able to do something for my family. The people at Taj Falaknuma had somehow captured the moment and the emotion in that frame, and handed the precious memories to me to take away for a lifetime.
As we waited for the cart to take us back to reality, I stood there contemplating our short trip. It had been just twenty-hour hours and yet it felt like a journey to a parallel universe. Like a dream that we were slowly waking back from that seemed too real to have just been a dream. Like a far-away home that we had just visited after a long gap. Usually when you go to a hotel, it is as transactional and robotic as that electronic card which the staff makes innumerable copies of to give to yet another guest inhabiting the room for that particular day. But Taj is different. I remembered what the receptionist had said to me as she handed the old-fashioned copper key to me, “Please do take care of this ma’am, it’s the only one you will find.” Falaknuma is that key in many a sense. It is not a cut-copy-past affair of your everyday but a carefully crafted experience, tailored to mesmerize every single person that walks through its grand, open doors. It is a piece of their heart and home that they are welcoming you to. And yes, I will forever hold on to this unique key that you gave me to unlock one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life.
