Rosie, one of the many domestic servants brings me a beer, smiles warmly and returns to the kitchen. The reason for all this; the paid-for club class flights, the room in a mansion (so impressive that it’s been used in Bollywood films), the access to a private jet and chauffer, is because we’re staying with one of the 10 richest men in India. Unfortunately, this is all I can say about my host because he is understandably nervous about a hobbyist writer saying something stupid about him or his global, billion-dollar business. Nevertheless, it is from this detached, affluent vantage point that I get to see India for the first time.

A pack a day
Outside this cocoon of sensory deprivation the city of Delhi lives and breathes. Or perhaps coughs and splutters is a more apt description because it is fast becoming the most polluted city in the world. The number of vehicles in Delhi has tripled since 1990 and foul black smoke belches from the explosion of transportation types littering the narrow, dilapidated roads. Apparently, breathing Delhi air is the equivalent to smoking a box of cigarettes a day. Troubling, because that meant I was smoking 40 a day.

Rickshaws, taxis, motorcycles, bicycles, buses and trucks battle their way through the noisy mayhem, nonchalant cows, pedestrians and poverty stricken street dwellers. Children, often young girls with strikingly beautiful faces, press up against car windows begging for food or money. Cripples, many of whom have had their bones broken by gangs to set in grotesque ways, stare out at passers by through desperate, hardened eyes.

This side of India is deeply disturbing and as our chauffer drives us along, I watch helplessly through tinted windows. On the side of the roads ramshackle facades — cluttered with advertising billboards — front countless small businesses and shops. Trading sprawls out onto the street and I see a woman ironing clothes on an island in the middle of a busy intersection.

The driver pulls into Delhi International Airport where a private plane waits to take us sightseeing. We’re greeted by a team of people and are whisked through the queues and security checkpoints. With ludicrous swiftness we board the plane and take off — rising up through the dense, polluted haze of Delhi. Next stop Jaipur and the Amber Palace.

Land of Kings
Jaipur is located in Rajasthan, one of India’s prime tourist destinations. Rajasthan, or land of Kings, is situated between the hilly and rugged south-eastern region and the barren north-western Thar desert. It’s contrasting landscape, Hindu and Muslim feudal history, famous palaces, forts and castles make it a fascinating and romantic place to visit.

The capital of Rajasthan is Jaipur, known as the pink city because the buildings in the old city were painted pink to welcome the Prince of Wales in 1876. The colour of the old city accentuates the bright colours of the Rajasthani dress, while bazaars and streets are jam-packed with vegetable-laden camel carts, painted elephants and decorated rickshaws.

Jaipur is filled with impressive museums, galleries and palaces, such as the Hawa Mahal, or Palace of the Winds. Built to enable the ladies of the royal household to watch processions and daily activity, its immaculately designed five-story façade is shaped like a crown adorning Lord Krishna’s head and offers amazing views of the city.

Apart from the wealth of tourist attractions, every year on January 14 Jaipur hosts a three day kite festival which is part of Makar Sankranti — heralding the transition of the sun into the Northern hemisphere. People from all over the world come to watch Jaipur become consumed with an extravaganza of festivities, displays and traditional celebrations.

The Amber Palace
Our main destination however is the Amber Fort, about 11 kilometres north of Jaipur. Construction, which began in 1592 and was completed over two centuries, is a superb example of the fusion of Mughal and Hindu architecture. Sadly some of the buildings were damaged by the Muslim invasions, but restoration work is being done.

There are different ways to get up to the fort, which was built on a hillside overlooking a river and sumptuous valleys. From the base you can walk up in about 10 minutes, catch a ride in a jeep or be carried up on the back of an elephant. Our elephant driver shocked my pampered sensibilities by whacking the elephant on the head with a large, metal hook to get it going. I had never driven an elephant before so who was I to judge?

It is well worth taking a guided tour around the fort to put the magnificent architecture in historical context. You will be taken through the fort and into the palace where terraces, stairways and ramparts lead into glittering halls, gardens and apartments. The halls have impressive columns that support high ceilings decorated with thousands of tiny mirrors and extravagant designs.

Once you block out the hoards of tourists you get a sense of the bejeweled, regal nature of palace lifestyle, specifically from the perspective of the Maharaja. A honeycomb maze of stairwells and corridors (many of them secret) lead into the rooms of the Maharaja’s several wives. When he wasn’t darting to and from their chambers he would entertain his favourite ones in special halls.

In one of these halls our guide fishes out a lighter from his pocket and lights it towards the dome shaped ceiling. “You see the stars?” he asks. The hundreds of tiny mirrors were reflecting the flame and even though it was day we could see the illusion of a starry night. “Do you see what’s missing?” the guide asks again. “The moon,” was the answer we were looking for, and with a wry look came a well-worn delivery: “because the moon, the most beautiful part of the sky, was with the Maharaja.” Good line! I’ll remember to use it the next time I’m entertaining a lady in a Rajasthani palace.

Click through to Page 2 to find out more about Delhi and visiting India...