“I should have arrived in an Aston Martin rather than a Meru cab,” I think to myself, as I am shown up to the Club floor by a liveried fleet and handed over to a whole bureau of butlers, complete with striped satin waistcoats, cravats and lily-white gloves. Not yet at my room, nor yet proffered any identification, but I have already been greeted by name and made much of by at least six suited-booted gents.
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Once in my room, I barely manage to complete the check-in formalities with a signature, over a welcome drink, before I come face to face with…my own face. In triplicate. Framed family photos, gleaned from my public Facebook albums, sit on the desk, the side table and the bedside. Along with my family’s laughing eyes. The bags have been discreetly unpacked meanwhile.
And the bath has already been run! How thoughtful, I muse, as I sink in and stare up at a stack of towels that would have made a princess—even she of the pea challenge—proud. The pool is a blue shimmer with Mughal-esque squiggles below my window, beyond the golfers, but why bother to change into a swimsuit? The only lack of forethought is on my part, since I should have perused and ordered from the DVD movie menu before I settled in, to take advantage of the view from this newer style of Club Room, on the same floor as the Club Lounge.
No matter, easily corrected—with a cola and popcorn on top, a la Eloise, for my in-room movie theatre experience. Having had a light lunch at Masala Art, which involved theatre of a different sort—a bank of tandoors behind a glass-walled show kitchen and a rolling cart for fresh phulkas, ghee on top, and dals with live-circus customised tadkas, to accompany chutney- and spice-daubed kebabs and tikkis—I am ready to do high tea with a vengeance.
This involves turning down the corridor, past the little meeting room (complimentary for two hours per stay), to the Club Lounge. The library/reading room/TV lounge is buzzing on the left and the business centre quieter to the right, being a weekend, but the little tables by the windows further along are busy, set with charlies holding miniature sandwiches, Indian savouries and pastries. Pick up your choice from the bevy at the counter, and wait for your choice of leaf (or grounds) to brew and arrive for enjoyment in fine china. It is really more dainty afternoon tea, belying the name, which is all to the good…
Because cocktail hour is not far. And includes complimentary cocktails (or wine etc) with hot and cold hors d’oeuvres that satisfy any sundown streetfood cravings in a more genteel—and gamble-free—way. In between, I have curled up with a book—and been offered reading glasses: alas, my age is showing.
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By the time I stroll gently back, the ingenious secret butler’s drawer (accessed by staff from outside the room to honour your privacy while assuring efficiency for the complimentary laundry service) has filled up, my crumpled chanderi tunic replaced by a tissue-wrapped, wrinkle-free package alongside the partner’s tux. This proves a tad bit chilly for dinner at the soothingly quiet and refreshingly brightly lit evening at Blue Ginger. I am offered a pashmina to cuddle into this time, while airily waving off suggestions of sweet fruity and creamy chocolatey drinks—Aussie bartender Nicholas Hawkins from the Blue Bar next door uses cranberry and tamarind and, yes, ginger to satisfy my demand for something mildly spicy and tangy instead. And drops in after a few minutes to check whether I might like it changed up, while I wait for pho and a Bento-inspired platter that is part Vietnamese adaptation and part Asian fusion.
It seems beverage preferences, like breakfast choices, how you take your tea, and what time you like to wake up, are just some of the little things the Club service likes to remember—and seamlessly reproduce when you next visit a Taj property. Yes, even another one.
I almost wish I were underage, by the time I nestle in to sleep like a baby. Apparently children get dessert with their name on it, by way of turndown service (bath toys and soft toys too!).
On the morrow, I look in on the crazy melee of the Kafe Fontana’s breakfast buffet and beat a hasty retreat to the more moderate—and immeasurably calmer—offerings of the Club Lounge, which has a Continental spread with innovative waters and juice mixes, plus the promise of special requests honoured.
Leaves me light enough to brave the surprisingly Spartan—or is it Roman—steam rooms and jacuzzi, and the pool. And a late checkout option leaves me time enough to take dinner—by reservation—at the Orient Express, after the express checkout, knowing I can doze in genteel comfort on the complimentary drop back home (or to the airport, if you weren’t on staycation like me).
I feel a little like Miss Daisy as my chauffeur pulls out into the glitzy Delhi night. Remember the days of the good old Raj? Well, that’s what they seem bent on at the Taj.
The information
Location: Taj Palace Hotel, Sardar Patel Marg, Diplomatic Enclave, New Delhi; about 10km from the airport.
Experience: The Taj Club rooms are on the 6th, 7th and 8th floors, which are dedicated to facilities useful for business travellers, including meeting rooms. The Inclusions for the room category are one-way airport transfer, free wifi for 24 hours, on-floor check-in and check-out, 24-hour valet service, Continental breakfast at the Club Lounge, cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, ironing for one garment set per night, free use of meeting room for two hours per stay, free tea and coffee at the Lounge all day.
Tariff: Rs 17,500
Contact: +91-11-26110202, www.tajhotels.com