Narendra Bhawan, Bikaner : A Reverie

As I float on my back and watch the stars shine across the big, dark sky, I think to myself, this is exactly what I would like to take away and never share. Not with anyone else in this planet, because these thoughts are mine, all mine, no one else can have them. I cling to them in the darkness of this night, my overwhelmed self struggling to memorise each and every nuance of the night, pairing them with the sights, sounds and glory of this place. For that is how I will perhaps always remember Narendra Bhawan, which is meant to swamp you with a wealth of emotions, where you are completely helpless in the face of such gaiety.

It is not just a place, its also the people who make it – the ever-smiling S with his silky knot of hair tied neatly on top of his head, the flowing locks of NN that makes him look like a Samurai, or that slight, mischief-laden grin of N when he knows he has us under his spell, helplessly succumbing to the gastronomic extravagance that passes as “Food Meditations“, a rather innocuously worded invite that I had received awhile back and not paid much attention to at first.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Kubla Khan

The Entry

“A drink, a drink, all my words for a drink!” (Me, after two flights and a wait to get my luggage).

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My first trip to sultry Bikaner and the weather is muggy – there’s low-hanging Nimbus clouds waiting to rain on our parade, but despite the gorgeous peacocks dancing away to glory, we only experience a few random drops here and there, and a stray dust storm that decides to grace us with its stinging presence one afternoon. Our motley crew of six lands after a slightly shaky flight to the tiny Bikaner airport, and we watch as our luggage is unceremoniously dumped in front of us to collect, indicating our exit as soon as possible. Deafened by the chatter of a group of red-faced Americans trying to find a cheap place to stay, I nearly forget picking up my own luggage, but then SR, the coordinator of this particular event, makes quick work of introducing us to the drivers who calmly produces chilled bottles of water (hello, Pushpendra ji!, you saviour, you!) for us to thirstily drink from while they pick and carefully pack our bags on the back of the cars. A short ride later, we arrive at Narendra Bhawan, walking in to be greeted with the sound of a trumpet salute.

After the initial welcome, we are quickly whisked into the parlour where the aesthetics of the “Food Meditations” are explained to us.

Narendra Singh Ji maintained that memory recalls food that has flattered its taste and it mingles with all other pleasures, and remains at last to console us for their departure. The pleasures of the table afford neither ravishing pleasure nor ecstasy but it gains in intensity what it loses in duration. It is the more valuable because it exposes us to all other gratifications and even consoles us for their loss. Besides, there are often found collected around the same table, all the modifications of society which extreme sociability has introduced among us: love, friendship, business, speculation, power, ambition, and intrigue, all enhance conviviality. Thus it is that it produces fruits of all imaginable flavors and the ensuing meditations.

All this time, glasses of gin and tonic make their rounds and this seems to be a pattern for the rest of our stay here. We make quick work of the tangy assortment of pickles and paraatha that is a comparatively light repast before we retire to our rooms.

The Rooms

I walk behind N who leads me to my room – spacious and comfortable and tastefully done in shades of yellow and green. The rooms are decorated in a way that keeps in mind the comfort and ease of access one might find in one’s home, and I am greeted by a recent photo of mine on the nightstand, meant to make me feel more at ease and familiar with the setting. I wash my face in the bathroom, complete with a bath tub and an assortment of toiletries that is pretty standard for any luxury property. I do appreciate a good hair dryer, and they have one, to my relief.

Clinic – The Spa

I hurriedly leave my bearings and walk up to ‘Clinic – The Spa‘ for a ‘ritual’, a Bach Flower Therapy, with floral essences used to energise, soothe, or relax the body. I aim for relaxation, and with the essence of Lavender guiding the path, the next couple of hours pass by in a breeze, my body a pliant form in the hands of the expert masseuse who makes me fall asleep halfway through the process. I float down the stairs to my room to change into my evening wear, then make my way to Gaushala for an apertif before dinner.

I refuse to be fancy and stubbornly pick a Martini Rosso, while the rest of the group slowly ambles downstairs and order an assortment of cocktails, that is followed by a shot of tequila topped with a lime slice dipped in brown sugar and cinnamon, “A deadly combination,” as S duly notes with a glittering smile. NN joins us now, tall and graceful, and we head for dinner under the stars, by the poolside. Here we are served a plethora of Kebabs, followed by a rather decadent thaali. I can barely do justice to it, thanks to a rather late lunch.

We wake up bright and early the next morning, powered by methi ki sabzi (that RD falls in love with) and kachori, not to mention thin, sugar-soaked jalebi, with spoonfuls of rabdi on the side. Soon, a car whisks us off to Junagarh Fort, where we learn about the history of Bikaner and Rao Bika, who decided to leave his father, Rao Jodha, the man behind Jodhpur, to make his own fortune.

Bikaner was built around 1488 AD, and over the years, became the fourth largest city of Rajasthan. The history of Junagarh fort is also fascinating, but I refuse to delve into it since this post is going to focus more on the food.

Museum Time

Lunch is at the Museum Room of Laxmi Niwas Palace, which is another grand property, and we are served a menu inspired by nouvelle cuisine, paired with an excellent Pouilly-Fuissé, heady with peaches and sharp, without being too acidic – leaves an impression that makes you think of sunny parks and picnics in wide-open meadows and happy days.

The meal is planned around an old menu recovered from the 1920s, and we follow the path of decadence with due diligence. The Asparagus Mousse is light and creamy, the vegetable notes rather pronounced, while the Potage Dubarry offers a creamy comfort that I savour to the last spoonful. I duly avoid the fish, but indulge in the crispy duck cutlets.

The servers suddenly bring in platters of food – the Plat de Bikaner – a plethora of local delicacies that we struggle to finish, despite the Durvillae Pinot Noir 2011, plummy, tangy, but doesn’t sit on your tongue for long, which is what many a Pinot can be accused of. You do get the oak notes while quaffing, but its not as heady as you would think, which is always nice. I waddle out of the dining hall and look around, spotting many hunting trophies that have been preserved for generations. On our way out, I spot a dancing peacock, shimmying away to glory, and stop to take a few photos.

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I join SP at the pool in the afternoon and decide that if I want to eat more, I need to swim deep, and swim far. However, the evening is spent teaching SP how to float. A flock of birds watch us, perched on the far side of the infinity pool, while we frolic around, giggling and teasing, waiting for dusk to fall. We are soon rewarded with a fantastic sunset, and we savour every second of it from the far side of the pool, taking in the glory that Bikaner offers.

Blinded!

We meet later at P&C (Pearls and Chiffon) where a special table has been set for us to dine in the dark. We are guided by expert servers who don’t speak, but rather guide us, mutely, through sound and touch. Our eyes are closed, heightening our senses, and I am glad I can identify a few things in the menu. The food is the star here, and I love the dessert (a deconstructed creme brulee) and the fall-off-the-bone pork chop – the meat so tender that it flakes on my finger. Our meal ends with a small tete-a-tete by the poolside where we enjoy the starlit night with a digestif.

The Final Meal: Literary Lunch

Well, all good things come to an end, etc. Our last meal at Narendra Bhawan begins around 11 am, because we have a flight to catch. We are offered a series of texts, and matched to that comes the food – the Lamb Daube from Virginia Woolf’s To The Lighthouse, while the Chowder, paired with the Chef’s interpretation of Ship Biscuits, hail from Moby Dick.

We finish our meal on a bittersweet note, with more of the excellent Pouilly-Fuissé poured at NN’s request, and Ulysses providing the final course – a white chocolate pudding in honour of Gerty and Joyce, the smoothness of it all bringing a smile of incredible peace on AR’s face, which is what I believe should be my last great moment to remember from this Food Meditation – a state of bliss achieved through great food and incredible company.

Disclaimer: Poorna Banerjee was invited to Narendra Bhawan by the management of the property.