How Luxury Hotels in Rajasthan Are Answering the Call to Conserve
In the desert state of Rajasthan where water is a precious and dwindling resource, new eco-resorts are giving back to the land through regenerative agriculture and water-conservation strategies.
Luxury in Rajasthan used to be about excess: palace hotels that rose like a mirage in the desert, opulent Maharajah suites, gushing fountains in a water-starved land.
Tourists could go from Rambagh Palace to Lake Palace to Umaid Bhavan in a haze of marble foyers and obsequious staff. Live like a Maharajah was both a tagline and part of the charm of this state.
You can still do that but more and more travelers, both Indian and international, are opting out of the monarchy and moving towards authenticity. They want immersive experiences in properties that are sustainable and intentional.
Two new boutique properties, both owner-driven, are playing to this trend. They offer what Indians consider the ultimate luxury: a sanctuary away from crowds. Yet, they do this in a way that gives back to the land using regenerative agriculture and water conservation strategies. Rather than look westward for inspiration, they have turned inward for a definition of hospitality that is rooted in the land. At Mharo Khet for instance, I had a wonderful head massage by a local village barber instead of a spa therapist, sitting under a flowering tree instead of a dark spa. Replace piped music with parakeet calls.
Both Mharo Khet and Sariska Lodge could not have opened at a better time, given the growing “desertification” of Rajasthan. The Thar desert, once occupying a corner of the state, is spreading, thanks to unrelenting construction that extracts groundwater. Farming practices too use excessive chemicals, destroying the soil quality. For a state that relies on tourism, this unthinking development makes no sense. By choosing a different path, both these properties are showing what is possible, not just to tourists but also to their compatriots. The earth – and their state’s economy – will thank them for it.
Mharo Khet, Jodhpur, India
I am on my way to breakfast when the scent of guavas hits me. The reason is obvious. At Mharo Khet, guava orchards abound all around the walking paths. I stand still for a moment, transported (much like Proust) by the smell. A woman in a red saree emerges. She is sweeping dried leaves from the ground. When she sees my face, she quickly plucks a ripe guava and hands it to me wordlessly. I bite into it. Juices drip from my lips. We grin at each other in shared delight.
True Indian hospitality is marked by spontaneous generosity. To experience it, you have to travel to the countryside, or stay at resorts that enfold large swathes of wilderness into them, because this is where most Indians – schooled or unschooled – feel authentically at home.
Mharo Khet engenders such experiences because of the way it is designed. Consider the swing in the center of the property for instance. It hangs from a tall khejri (Prosopis cineria), worshipped during the Ganguar festival and called the wonder of the desert. Three times a day, sometimes more, I swing under this tall, culturally resonant tree – a simple activity that takes me back to my childhood.
Dinner is a nine-course degustation menu in the midst of a guava orchard. Young girls from a nearby village serve the dishes and reel off ingredients and preparation techniques. Most have been handpicked by Chef Ishaan and me, as we wandered through the greenhouse earlier that evening, choosing greens, mushrooms and edible flowers.
My villa, with a living-room bedroom and large bathroom, is bigger than a New York studio apartment. Well-appointed with accessories in pastel shades, it is where I lounge in the afternoon. In the evening, I sit in the outdoor patios surrounding the villa, reading a book and watching birds flit around the organic gardens.
Guests have options: you can lounge by the pool and do nothing at all, go on local shopping trips, or learn crafts. I choose to learn charpoy-weaving (over pottery) mostly because charpoy-beds are ubiquitous all over India. My lesson takes place under a Rohida tree, also native. A shy fifth-generation artisan teaches me how to insert threads and cords tightly to create a geometric design on my toy bed. I bring it back in my carry-on: my own handmade souvenir. It sits today on my study table, holding papers and books.
The next day, I have a sound-healing session that lulls me into a nap. Noticing that I enjoy the cocktails made with local ingredients like tamarind and lemongrass, the bartender offers to give me a lesson and a tasting. Those inclined can also take cooking lessons in the kitchen. I choose instead to binge-eat on the delicious rotis (flatbreads) made from gluten-free millets.
As luxury becomes standardized with the same high-count bedsheets and brand-name architects, it is the small things, hard to duplicate elsewhere, that end up being memorable. Through a combination of staff-training and serendipity, Mharo Khet engineers such intangible but delightful experiences.
Sariska Lodge, near Jaipur, India
“Indian or Italian” asks Sylvia, my butler, when I arrive. Fresh from a big fat Indian wedding, I ask for Italian. A few minutes later, I am tucking into a beet salad, a terrific wood-fired pizza and chilled lemongrass ginger tea while watching songbirds flit through the bamboo reeds nearby. The lodge uses the Miyawaki method to create dense ‘forests’ made up of native flora, one of the many conservation protocols that owner Anand Shekhawat (who spent over a decade at the Aman group) and his Japanese wife, Rie are passionate about.
In my cool and spacious room with rammed earth walls to keep out the heat, all the dark wood is repurposed from old havelis or mansions. And water, a precious resource in this desert state, is conserved, not through stern cards that lecture you to reuse towels but through traditional techniques used for aeons in Rajasthan. There are “micro-dams” or johads, khadins or shallow tanks that store water and allow for percolation into the soil, baoris (stepwells), and kunds (tanks), versions of which are recreated within the property.
This light touch where conservation whispers rather than shouts is visible (or invisible) everywhere. The curtains are made with native black kala cotton, accented with a haunting embroidered image of a tiger sitting with its back to you. Amenities are high-quality whether it is the Hafele electric kettle or the neroli and ylang-ylang toiletries. The handblown glassware is custom made without lead, a painstaking process, says Shekhawat. There are just 11 suites spread over 15 acres. Mountain suites overlook the ancient undulating Aravalis, among the oldest mountain ranges on the earth. Fort suites face the less ancient but centuries-old Tehla fort and family suites have two bedrooms.
Since the lodge is beside the Sariska tiger reserve, morning and evening safaris are de rigueur. One morning, two rangers accompany me on a walk through the nearby giant granite boulders. We glimpse a hyena far away and hope for the sight of a leopard sunning itself on top of the rocks. On my second morning, I go into the forest on a 3-hour safari through grasslands and deciduous forests. Come April and the entire forest is in bloom from the bright red Butea monosperma (palash) flowers, says the naturalist. We see no tigers but I count 50 species of birds over two days. That night we have a “bush” dinner under the stars where chefs dole out piping hot naans, grilled vegetables and meats from an open fire. My favourite experience though, happens during an excursion to the nearby Neelkanth temple complex, a set of nearly 200 temples built between the 5th and 12th centuries and later destroyed by the Mughals. I walk around admiring and photographing the ancient ruins, still-carved pillars and temples dedicated to Surya, the sun god. We round a corner and surprise — a picnic with tea and biscuits is laid out. I sit in front of a 6th century Shiva Linga, sipping tea, surrounded by paddy fields. It is a scene from a dream.
Shekhawat’s mother bought the barren land that would become the lodge in 2008. Over 15 years, slow afforestation happened. Velvet bugs, rare indicators of a chemical-free ecosystem, appeared for the first time in 2024. Today, Sariska Lodge is a dynamic testament to how the earth can heal itself, and more importantly for our species, how a rewilding exercise can coexist with boutique luxury.
Leave A Comment