Water buffalo loll in the middle of the road and humped cattle stand about as though they own it – which, in rural Rajasthan, they largely do – while monkeys watch from the roadside trees. Somewhere on the drive from Udaipur, my husband Jo and I feel the city’s clamour fall away. A few hours on, we pull into Narlai, a tiny village crouched beneath a granite hill, and Rawla Narlai: a 17th-century royal hunting lodge reborn as a five-star hideaway.
Jo and Robyn, bejewelled from head to toe in keeping with a splendid three-day Indian wedding dress code at the Taj Mahal, New Delhi.
Fresh from a whirlwind three-day wedding at the sumptuous Taj Mahal hotel in New Delhi, followed by a few days in Udaipur, we’re ready to slow down and soak up the rich character of rural India. Rawla Narlai delivers it in spades. In the early 20th century, H.H. Maharaja Umaid Singh Ji of Jodhpur gifted the lodge to his younger brother, Maharaj Dhiraj Sir Ajit Singh Ji. It has belonged to the royal family ever since and was part of their princely state for more than 300 years, so its history is as authentic as it comes.
Staff in traditional Rajasthani dress greet us at the gates with great warmth. The courtyards smell of frangipani, and magenta bougainvillea tumbles over the striking white walls. We know straight away we’ve found somewhere extraordinary. The hotel sits right at the foot of Elephant Hill, a single granite monolith rising around 100 metres overhead. Ancient temples and shrines dot its slopes and catch the golden evening light.
The lodge feels like a living museum. Original artefacts fill the rooms, the ornate design is the work of the Rajasthan royal family, and photographs of maharajas line the walls. Beyond the gates, Narlai is small enough to explore on foot, and village life carries on much as it has for centuries, quietly and unhurriedly.
Our guide tells us about 80 per cent of the village is Hindu and the rest mostly Muslim, with a few Jain families. The men’s turbans say a lot about them: silver tinsel, for instance, means the wearer is married.
We cool off in the pool. On one side are chic, contemporary tents that pair rustic charm with plush royal comforts. On the other, a wide open courtyard stretches towards the guest lodgings.
We’re visiting in mid-September, at the tail end of the monsoon and before peak season starts in October, so there are few other guests and we feel blessed to have so much of this idyllic place to ourselves. Places like this are exceedingly rare, and finding them is the real joy of independent travel: heritage-rich places far from the usual tourist trail.
The wildlife, inside the grounds and out, is an unexpected thrill. Striped Indian palm squirrels dart about the property, and a resident tortoise named Parker makes his slow, deliberate way across the garden paths. The monkeys are kept outside the grounds, and every now and then an airgun cracks in the distance to keep them at bay.
On our first afternoon comes an adventure that isn’t on our itinerary: our first safari in India. It’s Jo’s first safari ever. My only other one was two years ago in Africa.
We set out at 5pm in a Suzuki jeep. Our guide tells us it’s godhuli, or “cow dust time”, the auspicious hour at dusk when the cattle come home, kicking up dust as they go. The drive from the village into the wild, rocky hills takes no more than ten minutes.
Luck is on our side. About six kilometres from the village, our naturalist guide spots a pregnant leopard high on a hill, in the shade of a banyan tree. Leopards are masters of camouflage and melt easily into the rocks, but his eyes miss nothing. We edge closer, then stop and watch her in silence.
It’s feeding time. She keeps dipping her head behind a boulder to tug at her kill. Then she rises, surveys the scene and slips out of sight. We follow as she pads through the thick scrub of the rugged Godwad countryside. To see such a majestic animal this close is a rare privilege.
Two nights earlier, our guide tells us, a leopard attacked a village calf, which managed to escape. Villagers are more accepting of these encounters than they used to be. “The shepherds are now compensated if a leopard takes one of their flock,” he explains.
It wasn’t always this way. He says cheetahs once roamed the region too, although India declared the species extinct in 1952. Since 2022, the government has been bringing cheetahs back through Project Cheetah, moving them from Namibia and South Africa into Kuno National Park in neighbouring Madhya Pradesh.
Leopards, meanwhile, are doing well here. According to our guide, 66 of them roam the surrounding hills, with plenty of natural prey to sustain them.
Why India is the leopard’s stronghold
India is one of the best places in the world to see a leopard in the wild. Experts estimate that somewhere between 50,000 and 100,000 remain worldwide, but their numbers are falling as habitat disappears and development pushes further into their territory.
With an estimated 12,000 to 14,000 leopards, India is thought to have the largest population of any single country. Their adaptability is a big part of why they’ve survived here. Leopards can live in forests, rocky hills and grasslands, and, as we found, surprisingly close to towns and villages, moving almost invisibly through landscapes they share with people.
Not every leopard population is so fortunate. Of the eight recognised subspecies, several are perilously close to extinction. The Amur leopard, found mainly in the Russian Far East and China, is critically endangered, and fewer than 200 Arabian leopards are believed to survive across the Arabian Peninsula.
Perhaps that’s what makes seeing one in India so unforgettable: a glimpse of one of the world’s most elusive big cats, thriving in one of the few places where it still survives in real numbers.
“Leopards don’t target humans – they’re not like tigers or lions,” our guide reassures us, though, like any wild cat, they demand respect. When a wild peacock struts across our path, he smiles and murmurs, “Leopard food.” Moments later a wild boar crashes across the track. “Only a large male leopard could take down that beast,” he adds.
Along the way we glimpse the region’s revered Marwari horses. The breed is famous for its inward-curving ears, which can rotate 180 degrees and touch at the tips. They’re regal creatures, and I promise myself I’ll ride one next time.
Dinner by candlelight at the stepwell
Our final evening brings the experience most guests come for: dinner at Narlai’s ancient stepwell, said to date back to the 11th century and still the village’s water supply. It begins with a head massage and a blessing. Then Jo is wrapped in a turban and I’m draped in a sari before we climb aboard an ox cart drawn by a single Brahman bull.
We set off at dusk. As we round the final bend, the stepwell appears, lit by more than 1,000 candles and 250 lanterns, which take staff three to four hours to set out. A four-course Rajasthani dinner follows under the stars, to the soft sound of a sitar.
Dinner under a blanket of stars, the granite hill changing colour as the sun sets, the warmth of the staff: there are so many ways to fall in love with Rawla Narlai. It’s a discovery from our Indian travels we’ll never forget.
Rawla Narlai Luxury Heritage Hotel
My tip: book directly. Once you book, the hotel sends a list of experiences it offers exclusively to guests:
- a leopard safari
- riding Marwari horses
- a walking tour of Narlai village
- a climb to the top of Elephant Hill, with tea or coffee at the summit
- the candlelit stepwell dinner
Getting there: Narlai is a few hours’ drive from Udaipur, so it’s easy to add to a Udaipur or Jodhpur itinerary.
When to go: October to March brings the most comfortable weather. September, at the tail end of the monsoon, is quieter.