Touching on India

Story and photos by Carlo Wolff

I came to love India in mid-July during a press trip designed to acquaint me with Leela Palaces, Hotels and Resorts, an upscale Indian hotel brand that splits its properties between business and leisure. I spent three days at the business-oriented Leela Kempinski Gurgaon in the Delhi suburb of Gurgaon in the northeast and three days at the Leela Kempinski Goa, a resort in Goa, a former Portuguese colony to the south.

I would recommend both Leelas to any kind of traveler.

The seventh day, and the longest, bisected the Leela stays. I spent July 15 in Agra, site of the Taj Mahal. That day threw into high relief the contrasts that characterize this country, where the modern coexists with the ancient.

When your computer breaks and you call the Help desk, the person answering may well be in Gurgaon, a city of 1.5 million that is home to many call centers and is a leader in business process outsourcing (BPO) and knowledge process outsourcing (KPO). Gurgaon is new, featureless, institutional, bustling; its roads swarm with tiny cars (the Maruti, a Suzuki product, reigns, but the brand-new, $2,200 Nano, from Tata, is hot on its heels), bicyclists, walkers, religious parades, dogs, and the occasional Brahma bull.

The Leela Kempinski Gurgaon is a sharp business hotel, with 2.5 staff members to each guest (with a population of 1.1 billion, India isn't short on workforce), a business center, passable in-room Internet (especially considering the power shortages that spatter a Delhi day), a gorgeous lobby and several exceptional restaurants including the remarkable, world-class Spectra. Not only is food spectacularly presented at this many-stationed delight, it's excellently prepared. Having the Ambience Mall, reputedly Asia's largest, next door is a bonus, and access to Delhi is easy.

With a population of 14.5 million, Delhi is many worlds apart from Gurgaon. Our bus took us through the ambassadorial area in New Delhi, a heavily British-influenced section of parks, magisterial buildings and broad roadways. We saw the house where Gandhi was assassinated, which felt holy. Then we visited the market in Old Delhi, where I and another journalist shared the hard wooden platform of a bicycle rickshaw for a tour of a little more than an hour.

Not only did that tour take us through a place that likely hasn't changed much in the last 500 years, it also exposed us to the vibrancy of Indian wholesale commerce. Here were wedding clothes, including shimmering saris. Over there were small machine parts. Turn an elbow-bending corner and you're in the midst of a spice market redolent with aroma and abuzz with flies (I didn't eat street food in India no matter how tantalizing). The passageways were so narrow there was no room for anything motorized larger than a motorcycle. They were packed with school kids in rickshaws motorized, bicycle-driven or pulled by a man; western couples out for a look at how “real” Indians live; businessmen in suits on their way to meetings. All this despite heat so intense it was mystical, particularly when coupled with humidity of equal weight.

Our driver pointed out various sights, communicating in passable English, and became a hero to me when he batted away a beggar kid who'd latched onto my left pants leg. The kid had an electric green eyebrow that was disturbing; I couldn't tell whether it was for theater or because of disease. All I knew was I didn't want the kid anywhere near me.

The next day we piled into the bus super-early for the four-and-a-half-hour ride to Agra, site of the Taj Mahal. The two-lane highway was challenging, particularly when a herd of sheep clogged a lane. After a roadside stop with monkey entertainment, we made it there in early afternoon.

Made of white marble, inlaid with semiprecious, finely cut stones, inscribed with Islamic scripture, the Taj Mahal sits on three acres south of the walled city of Agra. Built in the early 17th century as a tomb for Mumtaz Mahal, Shah Jahan's wife, it's dreamlike and gigantic. Surrounded by gardens and low-lying outbuildings, approached via walkways decorated with still waters, it's a beacon indeed. The site was thronged. A mystical place, it attests to the power of the Mogul who had it built over a quarter century.

On the way out, vendors accosted us peddling snow globes, miniature Taj Mahal statues and bullwhips. Also on our case: beggars, including many kids. There is poverty in India and the caste system continues. I didn't know how to react when I passed by a beggar on all fours, holding out his left hand. He was on all fours because that's how he was made. I tried not to look at him. Taking a picture of him would have been blasphemous. After I passed him, I saw another man like that, while yet another had a deformity that didn't make him four-legged but left him spindly and weak. Our tour guide told me polio and lack of education were to blame, suggesting these people didn't know where to go to get help--from a government that makes health care available to all.

After the Taj, we went to Agra Fort [pictured], where Shah Jahan lived out his final days as the prisoner of his son. It's a huge complex that reminded me of my student days decades ago when I learned of the Greek city-state, or polis. Agra Fort feels like a miniature city complete with a prison, a bank, apartments, even a mint. Parts of it date from the 11th century, others from the 17th. Like the Taj Mahal, it features sections of highly worked white marble, though the battlements, 75 feet high, are of red sandstone. A monsoon hit while we were there, temporarily cooling us and making for spectacular plays of light. Don't miss that fort when you go to Agra.

We spent the next three days at the Leela Kempinski Goa, a 75-acre resort that is home to 186 rooms and suites. It's a beautiful place built in 17th-century Mogul style. The main building is low and wide, its perimeter faux lagoons occupied by robust koi. It's ravishing to look at, and the service is terrific. I had my own butler. I miss Bintedar. The day before we returned to Gurgaon preparatory to our flight home, I asked him to do my laundry. He returned within 12 hours with a wicker basket full of my clothes, clean and pressed--even my underwear.

The atmosphere was more traditional than that of the Gurgaon Leela. My suite was dark, shuttered, relaxing. Technology was secondary in the Leela Goa, a Portuguese colony until 1961 where the smallish cities feel European, the atmosphere speaks of retirement and vacation and the vibe is almost Mediterranean.

Conclusions? I won't presume. Motivations? To return to India to explore places like Kerala, the state the man who gave me a blissful Ayurvedic massage came from; Bangalore, the country's IT center; and Chennai, an industrial center. Not to mention Mumbai, the business capital, a city of 20 million reputed to have the rush and vitality of New York. What I learned about India only grazed the surface. It also fostered an inexplicable wave of affection in me for a country that's a true democracy, a country of enormous promise, vitality and cultural richness. I can't wait to go back.

South Euclid free-lance writer Carlo Wolff writes about the hotel industry for Lodging Hospitality, Asian Hospitality and Hotelnewsnow.com. He also contributes book reviews to the St. Petersburg Times, the Chicago Sun-Times, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and the Boston Globe, where he regularly surveys graphic novels. He also is the author of Cleveland Rock & Roll Memories (Gray & Co.), and writes occasionally for CoolCleveland.com
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