If you will excuse me, I would like to start with a rant. Must Jaipur be called the Pink City? The last couple of trips I’ve made to it have led me to believe that Green City would be an equally apt name for it. On my last trip, after I had driven up in the amethyst light of breaking dawn to Nahargarh Fort and taken the regulation pictures of the sunlit-suffused lake 50ft below, I sent an image to a friend in Srinagar, Kashmir. Back came the startled reply “Gosh. There’s more greenery in Jaipur than in Srinagar.” That’s what I mean. In all the pictures that I have of my trip in July, there’s scarcely a square inch of desert sand: it’s all a forest of verdant green. It was the same case when I looked out of my window in March. There was a decided nip in the air. The low hills were covered with lush green scrub. After nightfall, we could hear the lions roaring seemingly from a few feet away (about which more later) and the next morning, the only pink we could spot was that of bougainvillea bushes. Now that I’ve aired my grouse about the so-called Pink City, let me tell you about Jaipur. There’s no doubt that the centre of the city is a wondrous sight. It has been made on a grid pattern, is neatly laid out and contained the most perfect living arrangements that any ancient city could have had. There are mithai shops, tailors, barbers, dyers and jewellers right by the vegetable vendors, temples and spice sellers. And all these swarm around houses of varying standards of grandeur, from humble dwellings to palatial havelis, all neatly arranged in rows. Add to that colourful handicrafts, king’s palaces and royal museums, and you have a dream city. There’s only one problem: there was no place for nature within the walled city of Jaipur. Fairmont Jaipur is a sprawling fort-like structure that is just over 5km away from Amber Fort. It is admittedly far away from the centre of the city for locals and tourists alike: you cannot walk across to the shops after lunch and be back for tea. So, the location has determined the type of tourism that it fosters. When I visited, the lobby lounge used to be crowded with families. Not just any ordinary, fun-seeking families mind you, but adults with notepads in their hands and a business-like air about them. They were all booking weddings in the hotel! Not all of them were from the city: the fairytale-like spread of the resort, the antique door that had to be assembled in 300 parts, the enormous chandelier in the banquet section—all these details were examined with the eye of a connoisseur. Most important was food. What menus could be made keeping in mind the guests’ preferences? And that was when the trump card of the hotel would be called in. Chef Lloyd D’Souza is a pastry chef in this life, but he was very likely an artist in a previous birth. His creations include wearable jewellery: they look like polki chokers and silver earrings but they’re actually Valrhona chocolate moulded lovingly and sprayed over with the appropriate colour. I was in the hotel to interview him, but was reduced to waiting endlessly as wedding customers cooed incredulously over charming little boxes with trinkets inside. Everything was edible, from the box to the trinkets. It was very clever, tasted like a dream and never failed to clinch a deal. I venture to say that even if you are in the mood for a quiet break from the world (with industrial quantities of great chocolate thrown in) it is a good idea to book yourself at one of the hotels just outside Jaipur. If the lure of shopping proves too much, you can always make a trip into town. Though, in the case of Fairmont, you need just go to nearby Amber Fort, 7km away, where the shops inside have an array of handicrafts, including miniature paintings. Lebua Lodge was the one property that stole my heart away. It was as offbeat as it was possible for a hotel to get. What I loved about it was the fact that every preconceived notion about the “average customer” had been laid to rest while planning it. Being right in the green belt of Jaipur, in actual forest land, the hotel could not construct any concrete structure in the area. Hence, they contented themselves by building tented rooms for guests. There was space around each tent and in the time I was there (all too brief, sadly) I never did hear the blare of television emanating from adjoining tents, so either my co-guests were evolved enough not to watch soap operas in a forest or they had the sense to keep the volume down! Loud parties, loud music, the serving of alcohol openly were all services that the hotel had to forgo in order to operate inside a forest, and I’d say it was a fair trade-off. You could not tell that you were in a tent while you were inside it. The off-white fabric looked like wallpaper covering a concrete wall. It was only when you walked around the resort and saw only cube-shaped canvas structures without windows that gave the game away. “The government has rehabilitated some lions nearby,” said the young lady who showed us to our tent. Her poker faced expression gave nothing away and we didn’t think to quiz her about government projects. It was only when night fell and we sat in the stylish patio in front of our tent that we heard the roar. Or should that be roars. Layla, our Iranian friend for whom the trip was being undertaken in the first place, blanched visibly. She didn’t think much of wild animals roaring in her ear at dead of night. A quick call to reception elicited the information that the lions were safely caged. But the area around Amber Fort (Lebua Lodge is approximately 2km from the fort and has an ancient wall running through it) teemed with wildlife. Amber Village, said to house the descendants of the workers and craftsmen who worked on the fort, has no fewer than 200 elephants. All tame of course, but not confined to cages like the lions. It is these pachyderms that famously go up to Amber Fort all day long, with tourists on their backs. Even elephants have trade unions that dictate their times of work and enforce breaks during the day, so it is a fair bet that you will see one or two elephants making their way along Amber village. And then there are the peacocks. Get up before dawn breaks, drive to Nahargarh Fort (together with Jaigarh and Amber, they are triumvirate that guard the entrance to the city) and the only sound you’ll hear is the cry of peacocks. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to take a picture of one from close range. Inside the fort itself is the finest restaurant in all of Jaipur: it would be tempting to say that it is the best restaurant in the whole of Rajasthan. It is all of a piece with Lebua Lodge and Fairmont Jaipur, which is to say, the owner saw an opportunity, thought out of the box and built something magnificent on it that would embody the surroundings. Called AD 1135 after the year that Amber was built, it is a disused part of the fort next to the Sheela Devi Temple. Inside, craftsmen have been employed to create sheesh mahals and charming western-style drawing rooms that are actually parts of a restaurant. In fine weather, couples can sit out on secluded terraces and be serenaded by Rajasthani musicians. If the food was poor, you could have overlooked it, but the Rajasthani thali in AD 1135 has been put together by the cooks of the royal families of Jaipur, Udaipur and Jodhpur, and include lesser-known dishes from the royal repertoire. With surroundings like those, I promise, you won’t miss the shops of the Pink City.