From Delhi’s punishing single digits, I land in Kochi’s blistering 30 degrees. Lovely. It’s humid too, and soon a soft rain falls as we whizz along the urban – rural agglomeration aka Kerala. Bengal, that distant cousin of Kerala, has a name for this sort of rain: ilshe-gudi it’s called there — the milt of the hilsa. Coming from them, you know that’s a decent compliment.
A couple of hours later, the vehicle screeches to a halt at the water’s edge. There’s a houseboat puttering, robust crowd of onlookers in tow. Soon I’m sailing along on the last leg of my amphibious journey. Rainclouds loom overhead. The green-grey waterworld is easy on the eye as I demolish a sumptuous Kerala spread, the highlight of which is a dish of anchovies and coconut. My destination is the Vasundhara Sarovar Premiere in Vayalar (of Vayalar Ramavarma fame; well, um, Vayalar Ravi is also from here), the first five-star property in this sleepy bend of the Alleppey backwaters.
The resort can, of course, be reached by road but as my approach has been on water, I end up taking a golf-buggy tour of the property past the heritage cottages, the floatels, the main wings with rooms and suites, the charming little stone temple. And see the lobby last. This is a smart bit of choreography, because it is quite simply the most impressive hotel lobby I’ve ever laid eyes on in Kerala (but more of that later).
I’m ushered into the cool confines of my room — spacious, smart, with an ample balcony to soak in the view. A rattan fan whirrs overhead. I rain-shower on a slatted wooden deck indoors, the shower area demarcated by river-sculpted pebbles that spill over into the room. I emerge jojoba-scented courtesy the excellent toiletries. And I can’t help wondering — am I still in Kerala? My question is answered, in detail, the same evening by the nice people from Design Combine, the conjurors of these interiors (and who have more Kerala resorts under their belt than you’d care to visit, including Malabar House). Short answer: this is still Kerala.
By afternoon, I’ve nosed around a bit. The main building, where I’m staying, sits in a broad arc looking out to the backwaters. Only there are no backwaters to be seen — all that’s visible is a verdurous sea of water hyacinth, and that too in high season.
There’s a children’s play area in plain sight, right next to the rainwater harvesting pool. The colourful plasticky paraphernalia seems out of place; but at Vasundhara, they’re not shy about this sort of stuff. They don’t pretend to be anything but what they are — everything to everyone. You want to stay in an old Kerala mansion? They’ve salvaged a couple of wooden homes and reassembled them here. You want a contemporary, no-fuss room? They’ve got it. You want a lavish suite? Check in. You want to spend a night on a houseboat? They’ve got one (the very same one that brought me to Vasundhara and the only one on these waters, apparently, with a jacuzzi on the sundeck). You don’t know what you want? Check into one of their embarrassingly luxurious floating cottages.
Delicious strains of Carnatic instrumental waft in from Chemmeen, the seafood restaurant. It’s over some delicious, well, chemmeen (prawn) from the live cooking station (the restaurant runs on a catch-of-the-day concept) that we chew over the resort’s design idiom. The folks at Design Combine have seen it all — indeed, done it all. Now, a bit jaded with the typical Kerala-style resort, they’re playing around. And having fun. Kerala, after all, doesn’t have to be a place where the past has to be perennially invoked. A contemporary aesthetic is taking shape, drawing inspiration from modern-day Kerala. And so the extensive use of mosaic in the bathroom and terracotta tiles in the rooms. That under-appreciated stone, Cuddapah, makes an appearance. Wardrobes have interwoven coconut-shell fronts. There’s no shying away from tedious processes either — thus a profusion of oxide flooring, in a variety of colours. The restaurant itself is inspired not so much by Malabar prawn curry as by Chemmeen, a popular Malayalam flick from the 1960s — numerous movie posters hang testimony.
There are flourishes everywhere. Zephyr, the bar by the pool, has a teashop mural as a backdrop and a cheery Mediterranean colour scheme. Mystic Spice, the main restaurant, has a wall filled from floor to ceiling with a vibrant display of spices. But it’s in the grand, soaring lobby that took my breath away earlier that the essence of Kerala comes to roost. It’s centred on a kalvilakku, the tall lamp typical of Kerala temples. Surrounding it are the distinctive headdresses and umbrellas of elephants at the annual Thrissur Pooram festival. The walls are painted with scenes of festivity. A Kathakali costume seems to leap out of one frieze, a theyyam mask out of another. Vintage glass lamps, of the sort you can pick up in the antique shops of Jew Town, hang overhead.
What to do in Vayalar? You can watch coir making at a factory or at the resort itself. You can watch toddy being tapped. Better still, you can visit a toddy shop. Next morning, accompanied by a group of seven siblings (six sisters and a brother) from Malaysia and Singapore, I went by speedboat to a charming toddy joint.
From up close, the hyacinth blooms looked pretty. Our escort broke off a few and installed them in our life-jacket pockets. At the shop, we stuffed our faces with beef and pork fry, mussels and crab and, of course, kappa. The first-press toddy was deceptively sweet and light. The shop itself had a charmingly rundown air, but was clean and staffed by friendly folk. Given the enthusiastic way in which the excursion was received by my co-travellers, I think there’s a market for this sort of tourism — especially for people from squeaky clean places like Singapore.
Back at the resort, I checked into the spa. Remarkably, and correctly, the Ayurvedic treatment rooms were air-cooled, and quite cool. My masseur, who had put his skills to good use as far afar as Malta and Bratislava, slathered me with traditional oils, different ones for head and body. The head oil was essentially coconut with ’erbs while the body oil had lashings of sesame, garlic and lemon. A warm poultice of seven different leaves (including tamarind) was dipped in the oil, after which I was gently smacked with it. A session in the sauna later, I smelt like a currywurst. But it was worth it.
I thought I had seen it all, until the general manager showed me the suites, each different and appealing in its own way: chiselled granite backdrops, extremely muted hues, the sudden appearance of laterite in one.
Vayalar is a far cry from over-built Kumarakom. But it offers exactly the same experience. The understated Mr Vasudevan, who owns the property (it’s managed by Sarovar), dreams that Vayalar will one day become a Kumarakom. I wish him all the best but fervently hope Vayalar loses none of its laidback charm.
The information
Where: Vayalar, Cherthala, Alleppey district; 63km from Nedumbassery airport, 35km from Ernakulam Junction, 28km from Alleppey station.
Accommodation: 20 superior rooms, 19 deluxe rooms, 6 heritage rooms, 6 deluxe suites, 6 floating cottages, 2 presidential suites, 1 houseboat.
Contact: 0478-6613000, vasundhararesorts.in