I’m away from the cities concrete and in an absolutely gorgeous place in patiala. I love hotels but this is something else. It’s a heritage hotel. 200yrs old. It used to be A queens palace. It’s not so big that I can’t cover it in an hour,but it’s beautiful.

When I reached here Vipul was sitting in one of the veranda terraces overlooking the spacious green lawns. Sunlight filtering on him.

A cacophony of various birdsongs underlined the silence. There’s a nip in the air, no actually it’s cold.

The terraces and verandas have old stone flooring and half white rough textured walls surrounding them. Overlooking trees which are years and years old. The lush green lawns are peppered with anwalas.(which I did pick and eat with salt.) The full palace has been outlined with lit bulbs unobtrusive, and yet elusive. The structure is not overwhelming or overpowering on the contarary it’s welcoming. White rough walls, stone flooring. Planters huge enough to accommodate an adult with generous greens all around.

The stairs are old wood and somewhat rickety. The rooms with high ceilings are adorned with old chandeliers that need a little coaxing to come on. The fans still creaking,the doors so tall I need to stand on my toes to shut the latches. No automatic locks here. Old tall copper lamps light up the room. A humongous four poster bed straight from another era imposes the room. It’s tall and I have to jump up and sit on it. The floor is old mosaic With Rugs lazily sprawled around, faded and weathered from sunlight that streams through tall windows with long curtains which should never be drawn. and ofcourse the mosquitoe mesh doors r still there. There’s also a fire place. I want them to fire it just for the heck of it. It’s got a strong iorn grate n inside I can see these irreplaceable antique tiles some broken some whole a mosaic in white patterned with little birds and twines.

The bathroom is huge, white tiles stone flooring and toilataries smelling of natural oils. A small dresser in the corner by the window. Old mahogany.

The rooms stately doors open into the verandas surrounding the entire property. Strewed around are cane chairs and marble tables with weathered cotton tablecloths with vegetable dyes. Rot iorn chairs wit similar cotton cushions on which I can sit for hours.

Vipul’s watching the match. So I am sitting on a terrace with my glass of wine. The silence is audible. The birds have retired. I notice Beautiful patches of mosaic flooring cutting a pattern on the cold hard stone. As I walk around I see the restaurant with arched windows and small tables and chairs. Wafting out are mouthwatering fragrances from the kitchen. The corridors have seating nestled in between old pillars of stone. With colourful mattresses and cushions in vivid indigo blue and hot pinks. A traditional phulkari.

Having slept like a queen I have just woken up. The suns been up from sometime now yet it’s not in it sfull glory. It has the innocence that adorns dreamy eyes of an infant.

I have tea on the terrace with Vipul and he continues to work. What a beautiful and peaceful place to create. Perfect.

I take my cup and sit in the garden on the lawns surrounded by towering trees. Squirrels have beaten me to the anwalas. They’ve nibbled on almost each and everyone on the floor. They’re fearless They loiter around me and vanish at their will.

The boys will be reaching anytime soon now. We had an option to move to Chandigarh, an option of Morden 5 star hotels. But I’ve declined.

This is exactly what the boys need to cut away from the cities that we all are so used to. To live in a place that has history higher than the ceilings. They need to walk in the grass and listen to hear the bird songs. They need fresh air away from their gadgets. They need to play football and run around on the

Lawns bare feet. And ofcourse eat at a dhaba. And just chill in a non competitive,relaxed atmosphere minus pressures and malls. Where they can just be. And be with us.