Royal fantasy: The Tijara Fort is really a world and a few epochs apart

Every winter, when the extended family returns like a pack of homing pigeons, it’s my job to come up with a weekend destination for us to visit. After a disastrous road trip to Corbett Tiger Reserve, when we found ourselves in an epic 14-hour traffic jam near Garhmukhteshwar, the family is understandably less than enthusiastic about places that involve journeying for over four hours. So when a friend suggested the Neemrana property, Tijara Fort in Alwar, it seemed too good to be true. Given that it is barely 100 km from Delhi, I reckoned it would be a stone’s throw from a mall or two, and its terraces would offer views of the capital’s urban sprawl. I couldn’t have been more off the mark.

As we turned off the busy National Highway 8 towards Bhiwadi, fields of mustard, radish and carrots began peeping from behind the massive real estate developments there. Soon, quite strategically atop the tallest hill in the area, the Tijara Fort came into view. Its construction was ordered by Alwar’s Maharaja Balwant Singh in 1835, but was never completed as the king died 13 years later. His descendants couldn’t complete its construction either, and the half-built fort fell into disrepair until the Neemrana group took it over. They took ten-odd years to renovate and reconstruct it and, to their credit, the place now looks like it has stood like this for decades.

We entered through a gigantic gate, above which were a series of pavilions and jharokhas, latticed windows that had a magnificent 360-degree view of the countryside. The fort complex consisted of three separate palaces: Mardana Mahal (the king’s quarters), Rani Mahal (queen’s palace) and Hawa Mahal (palace of the winds). A secluded swimming pool lay along the periphery, while on the other side, the manicured “hanging gardens” — essentially a series of seven lawns along the slopes — provided ample space for evening ambles. 

Interiors of Mardana Mehel

Although Tijara Fort opened for business in January 2016, a distant drone of drills and grinders told us work was still in progress. The garden in front of Mardana Mahal, an otherwise beautifully appointed area with beautiful, deep verandahs had not been completed, and piles of rubble were lying by the wayside. The rooms (no two are the same, apparently) were huge, especially Anju Mahal, where we stayed, which had an additional bedroom in the tower. Circular, it had windows on all sides to capture the best views possible.

Later, afternoon tea was served in the garden pavilion. We climbed up to its terrace and over cups of steaming masala chai, watched the world spin below us. A farmer was ploughing his field below, and scores of egrets followed his tractor, searching for juicy tidbits unearthed in the furrows it left behind. The sun set suddenly, dramatically, and then, all was quiet but for the jackals, calling somewhere below in the darkness.

Greenry inside fort

The next morning, we eschewed a trip to the Jain temples nearby (apparently they draw crowds) and went instead to some local farms in search of fresh produce. Walking through fields (most of the farmers we encountered were happy to let us do so), inhaling the fragrance of rich earth and the bounteous vegetables that grew in it, it seemed inconceivable we were so close to Delhi.

Back in the fort, I explored its nooks and crannies further while waiting for lunch. To be able to not simply renovate and repair, I mused, but actually completely reimagine a fort, must be a curiously freeing creative experience. Instead of being restricted by history, the folks at Neemrana were able to blend new and old elements in Tijara. For instance, Anjolie Mahal is named after Anjolie Ela Menon, who stayed here for some time and painted several works including a large frescoed wall. In the garden, a gazebo held up by life-size statues of camels offers a piquantly modern diversion.

Altogether too soon, it was time to make that miraculously short drive back to Delhi. We stopped in the fields for a last look at the new “old” fort of Tijara, and I picked a sprig of mustard. An hour later, as Gurgaon’s urban sprawl began, the yellow flowers, already wilting on the dashboard, were the only reminders of the rustic beauty of Tijara.