South India

LUXURY ON TRACK

Preeti Verma Lal was convinced by Golden Chariots gilt-edged service that its the best way to see the remnants of regal South India


FORGIVE ME, if this reeks of absolute snootiness, but I never travel by train. Crowded platforms, countless humans lugging half their world in steel trunks and leather strolleys, the harried chug of the iron wheels, the raspy hollering of chai and puriwallahs and the endless hours to the destination makes me flinch...
Id rather grow wings and fly amid fluffy clouds than hop onto a train to no where, anywhere. But one February afternoon when an enticement called Golden Chariot fell my way, I was tempted to shed all my acquired hauteur. And with good reason the itinerary of the train journey picks pages out of history and adventure books, with a leaf of wildlife and dollops of lavish food and litres of cocktails thrown in.
The Golden Chariot is actually a misnomer as it is not a chariot pulled by white stallions with flying mane and ears that tip like a lyre. In fact, it is 7night/8day luxurious train journey that begins in Bangalore and cuts through the belly of Karnataka to conclude with a spectacular sunset in Goa.
For Rs 1,10,600 (single occupancy ) and Rs 82,600 (double occupancy), the Golden Chariot offered a personal butler, downy duvet, luxury coaches for sight-seeing , well-spoken guides, food sumptuous enough for the gods, a spa to slough off everyday grime, a gym to rout the calories, that fibre optic cable to stay connected with the world - the brochure boasted all this and more...
I wondered whether a 650-metre-long train with room enough for 103 guests could actually be so luxurious . But before I could think of more questions, I was lured into saying yes
Oh, you are destined for a great journey, an old woman with flowers in her hair laughed from behind her green sari. I was in the Lalbagh Botanical Garden (Bangalore) for the half-day sight-seeing , ogling at the magenta and yellow pansies when a crow pooped on my head.
It will bring you good luck the woman said in between stifled giggles as I struggled to get that lump of poop off my long hair. So much for luck before the beginning of an unusual journey!
Hours later, at the Yashwantpur Junction the actual journey began with the flicker of a lamp, the fragrance of the pink flower strung in a garland and a lavender drink arranged tidily on a gleaming tray. Amid the clamour of a railway station , the Golden Chariot stood prepped and shiny on the tracks.

ON ITS purple body were etched in gold the names of great ruling southern dynasties of yore Ganga , Vijaynagara, Hoysala. On its crest were perched two lions, at the door stood a liveried attendant and the tagline read: Many worlds. One voyage.
As I hopped into Vijayanagara coach, I noticed the wood-panelled corridors with blue paisley on the carpet, framed nutcrackers on the wall and a chandelier in my cabin. The aroma of cardamom fused with that of fettuccine in the two restaurants , cocktails were being shaken in Madira Phew! And I thought all trains were rickety contraptions that merely hurtled from one destination to another!
As the night grew darker, the whiff of food faded and a dulcet good night piped through the train. The train chugged smoothly overnight towards regal Mysore, the first stop. Before I could get over the morning yawn, Swamy, the coach attendant, was knocking in with piping hot lemon and honey drink.
A few minutes later I was headed for Kabini Jungle Lodge, a two-hour drive from Mysore, for a fling with all that is wild and pristine. Soon after, the engine of the speed boat cut through the lake where cormorants and ibis sat on naked tree stumps, a herd of elephants revelled in a lazy bath and a bison sauntered out of the lush jungle.
Before the sun dipped into the lake for a nights rest, a leopard cut through the dust tracks, its spots burnished with the glow of the setting sun. In the dark night when I forgot the way back to my cottage , I followed the scent of the wild plum that I remembered stood statuesquely in the courtyard.
On the Golden Chariot, each day dawned with its surprises,. Every day had its own sumptuous menu that Chef Devendra Choubey of Mapple Hotels rustled up diligently with his team. Every time the sun singed my skin, a Golden Chariot staff member pulled out an umbrella to provide shade. And every time the train stopped, Abhijay Verma, the general manager, walked by to enquire and take care of the all big and small needs, to placate fussy travellers, and to clink a glass with others.
That week I gazed at the ancient ruins of Hampi, soaked in the illuminated columns of Vittala Temple, listened to guide Chandru as he detailed the exquisite temples chiselled in the caves of Badami , sat amid the pink bougainvillea in Brindavan Gardens, clanged a bell in the church of Goa and stuck my toe in the silken sand and watched the sun dunk in the Mandovi river.
In between, there was so much to cherish . At the Hassan station, a bearded man welcomed us with a mellifluous tune on his shiny clarinet. In Hospet, marigold garlands snaked around my neck and in Badami little Rubina and Heena missed school and waited at the platform to say hello and shake hands.
Beyond all the music and the thoughtfulness , I haggled at the Hampi bazaar, picked through historic nuggets thrown at us by the guides and even jumped off as the train stopped at the Dudhsagar waterfall at midnight. The staff obligingly even pulled out a gigantic spotlight to make the gurgling waterfall visible in the inky night. As I stood by the waterfall, I realized it cant get better than this!
Perhaps I should not have been miffed at the crow that pooped on my head and believed the old ladys pithy statement about it heralding good luck and the beginning of great journey. I am ready to forgive all mischievous crows if I can hop onto the Golden Chariot again.

Preeti Verma Lal