KOLKATA: MARCH 19
Rajen Bali is introduced to me by Modhurima Sinha of the Taj. We sit together in the lobby of the Taj Bengal. Rajen Bali is the shorter by three inches and the younger by four years. He boasts a hawk's nose. Mine is snubbed. We are both overweight and bearded and we both served in the army, I as a lowly lieutenant, Rajen as a Lieutenant-Colonel. Rajen has put his retirement to good use both as a successful painter and one of India's foremost travel writers and writers on food. Modhurima Sinha probably sees us as grumpy old men and made for each other. So it proves...
Showing posts with label Taj Bengal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taj Bengal. Show all posts
Friday, April 02, 2010
LAW IS NEGOTIABLE
KOLKATA: MARCH 18
An immensely rich Kolkata businessman tells me of reneging on the purchase of a London Hotel. His London lawyer, a man with Indian antecedents, warned him of disadvantages in doing business in England. Miss-declare trading figures for United Kingdom Value Added Tax and you pay a fine. Do so a second time and you go to jail. India is different. Law is negotiable.
An immensely rich Kolkata businessman tells me of reneging on the purchase of a London Hotel. His London lawyer, a man with Indian antecedents, warned him of disadvantages in doing business in England. Miss-declare trading figures for United Kingdom Value Added Tax and you pay a fine. Do so a second time and you go to jail. India is different. Law is negotiable.
TORTOISE PROGRESS
KOLKATA: MARCH 18
A guest swims lengths of the pool as I breakfast at a window table at the Taj Bengal. I must face the laptop keyboard. The latest BA High Life piece needs final editing. The Guardian requires 600 words. I am late with 1500 words for MCN and this Blog is way behind. I occupy the same window table for a lunch-time meeting with the hotel's Director of PR, Mrs Modhurima Sinha. Six tourists lounge on sunbeds the far side of the pool. I head for my room. Dinner is Room Service Biriani and 30 minutes of IPL cricket live on TV. I call Bernadette at midnight and collapse into bed.
Have I finished? Of course not.
Why do I write so slowly?
A guest swims lengths of the pool as I breakfast at a window table at the Taj Bengal. I must face the laptop keyboard. The latest BA High Life piece needs final editing. The Guardian requires 600 words. I am late with 1500 words for MCN and this Blog is way behind. I occupy the same window table for a lunch-time meeting with the hotel's Director of PR, Mrs Modhurima Sinha. Six tourists lounge on sunbeds the far side of the pool. I head for my room. Dinner is Room Service Biriani and 30 minutes of IPL cricket live on TV. I call Bernadette at midnight and collapse into bed.
Have I finished? Of course not.
Why do I write so slowly?
Thursday, April 01, 2010
A LADY WITH VERY SPECIAL TASTES
KOLKATA: MARCH 17
I sit on a sofa in an outer office on the top floor of a commercial building in central Kolkata.
The invitation was for 7 pm to 7:30. It is now 8:30. I have read the Times of India, The Telegraph and The Statesman. Sensible would have been to leave an hour ago. On the other hand the woman I expected to meet is my only contact here in Kolkata. I am told that she is rich, that she is interesting, that she does interesting things with her money. I am a writer. Interesting people are the grist for my writer's mill. The lady arrives at 8:45. She is short, plump, middle-aged and has steel chains woven into her hair. The chains reach midway down her thighs. Her desk is piled with pink purses encased in glass-bead spaniels. The curved doggy tail is the handle. Wow!
I sit on a sofa in an outer office on the top floor of a commercial building in central Kolkata.
The invitation was for 7 pm to 7:30. It is now 8:30. I have read the Times of India, The Telegraph and The Statesman. Sensible would have been to leave an hour ago. On the other hand the woman I expected to meet is my only contact here in Kolkata. I am told that she is rich, that she is interesting, that she does interesting things with her money. I am a writer. Interesting people are the grist for my writer's mill. The lady arrives at 8:45. She is short, plump, middle-aged and has steel chains woven into her hair. The chains reach midway down her thighs. Her desk is piled with pink purses encased in glass-bead spaniels. The curved doggy tail is the handle. Wow!
A SOAK FOR THE SOAK
KOLKATA: MARCH 17
How ever great the number of rooms, the best hotels make each guest feel unique and treasured. Is it years of training or brilliant selection of staff? Probably an amalgam of both.
Taj staff are brilliant.
First goal? Soak in a hot bath...And soak and soak. Then sprawl on a perfect mattress and check my address book. Then connect the laptop to the WiFi for mail.
Is Bernadette OK?
Has my suicidal Last Born survived a further week of snow boarding?
What news of my other children and my grandchildren?
What work am I late delivering?
And what funds remain in the bank? This last is always a major anxiety on a long journey.
How ever great the number of rooms, the best hotels make each guest feel unique and treasured. Is it years of training or brilliant selection of staff? Probably an amalgam of both.
Taj staff are brilliant.
First goal? Soak in a hot bath...And soak and soak. Then sprawl on a perfect mattress and check my address book. Then connect the laptop to the WiFi for mail.
Is Bernadette OK?
Has my suicidal Last Born survived a further week of snow boarding?
What news of my other children and my grandchildren?
What work am I late delivering?
And what funds remain in the bank? This last is always a major anxiety on a long journey.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
TAJ WELCOME FOR AN ANCIENT SCRUFF
KOLKATA: MARCH 17
Six guards protect the gates into the Taj hotel, Kolkata. No entry for an Old Blimp on a Honda 125. Bikes are for servants. I park with the social pariahs and walk. Security at the lobby entrance is airport style. Place keys, small change, mobile phones etc. in a wicker tray for Xray scan. Pass through the detector gates. My braces/suspenders set off the alarm. Take them off and I have to hold up my pants. Hardly a glorious entrance to five star luxury...
I giggle. So do the security guards.
A suave gentleman in a frock coat betrays neither surprise nor dismay at spotting an aged tramp on wealth-hallowed ground. “Mister Gandolfi?”
“Yes,” say I. Are they expecting another ancient scruff??
Six guards protect the gates into the Taj hotel, Kolkata. No entry for an Old Blimp on a Honda 125. Bikes are for servants. I park with the social pariahs and walk. Security at the lobby entrance is airport style. Place keys, small change, mobile phones etc. in a wicker tray for Xray scan. Pass through the detector gates. My braces/suspenders set off the alarm. Take them off and I have to hold up my pants. Hardly a glorious entrance to five star luxury...
I giggle. So do the security guards.
A suave gentleman in a frock coat betrays neither surprise nor dismay at spotting an aged tramp on wealth-hallowed ground. “Mister Gandolfi?”
“Yes,” say I. Are they expecting another ancient scruff??
SECURITY BLANKET
KOLKATA: MARCH 17
Pointless to ask direction to a one star hotel unless you are close. Not so with the Taj Bengal (not so with any Taj hotel). I stay at the Taj for two reasons. Firstly, the Taj group invite me. Secondly, the Taj in Bombay was my security blanket forty years ago. Entering the great dining room overlooking the sea was an instant antidote to depression or fatigue. I took personally the storming of the Taj by terrorists. They attacked treasured memories. Fear them and they are victorious. This ride is both my response and my inadequate memorial to the killed and to a dear and respected friend, sadly departed, Darab Tata.
Pointless to ask direction to a one star hotel unless you are close. Not so with the Taj Bengal (not so with any Taj hotel). I stay at the Taj for two reasons. Firstly, the Taj group invite me. Secondly, the Taj in Bombay was my security blanket forty years ago. Entering the great dining room overlooking the sea was an instant antidote to depression or fatigue. I took personally the storming of the Taj by terrorists. They attacked treasured memories. Fear them and they are victorious. This ride is both my response and my inadequate memorial to the killed and to a dear and respected friend, sadly departed, Darab Tata.
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