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"Puck, Puck," go the pomegranate-sized linen bundles of rice cooked with herbs. My body, warmed with fragrant oil, is being pummeled with rice. "Whap, Whap." One therapist starts on my left leg and down the right while the other keeps the rice packs steaming. Unable to resist this whacking duet, limb by limb, my muscles yield.

Amanda’s restaurant has several personalities. Its fine dining persona is reflected in the la carte menu of Indian, Asian and Western cuisine. I can attest to the Indian food being exceptional; so much so, I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything else. The menu changes every day preventing culinary boredom even for those who are lucky enough to stay a month.

Unruly Delhi and the hurly-burly of the twenty-first century are left behind as guests ascend the marble staircase onto a long front porch which conjures up old India hands settled into their gin and tonics. Now, enclosed to capture the air-conditioning, the porch has, a bit sadly, morphed into a wide corridor for the Cavalry Bar and Curzon Restaurant. Doric columns, stained-glass windows and flowers sent up from the Oberoi’s own farm embellish the lobby.

Lord Curzon, who served as the Viceroy of India at the turn of the last century, owned the land that Mr. Maidens bought to build his hotel. Curzon features prominently among the pictures: Curzon at Eton, Curzon hunting tigers and Curzon at the 1903 Delhi Durbar a tremendous reception the Indian princes gave the visiting British royal family. When the Brits finally gave India back to the Indians in 1947, the British royal family gave their substantial collection of India photos to the Indian royalty. The restaurant’s pictures, part of that collection, render a pictorial history of the British Raj.

It’s as if P.R.S. Oberoi fell in love with India anew this time with her treasures, beauty and crafts. Like an eighteenth-century miniature painting, he fussed over Rajvilas every detail. Artisans commissioned to work with local materials created royal elephants marching around the dining pavilion frescoes, sunken baths sculpted in marble and silk brocades laced with gold thread.

Frescoes of royal elephants bedecked in robes and jewels parade inside each arched niche of the courtyard’s wall - exquisite miniatures writ large. Darkness seeps across the Rajhasthani desert and a turbaned lamplighter makes his rounds. With a sparkler atop his pole, he ignites the four columnar torches - high as an elephant’s eye - around the raised stage in Surya Mahal’s open courtyard.

Earlier this morning, I’d presented my Indian - road - ravaged body to Dr. Surjit Dupee, Rajvilas’ Ayurvedic doctor. I’d met him yesterday evening while looking for the perfect spot to photograph the sun as it set behind a floating temple. That spot turned out to be on the spa’s roof. Dr. Dupee noticed me, grabbed some keys and told me to follow him. We passed the spa’s spacious treatment rooms and peeked into the couples’ room built round a neem tree.

India’s Oberoi hotel dynasty is reinventing India’s and the world’s notion of an epicurean hotel. Inspired, perhaps, by Rajasthan’s famous minuscule paintings, the Oberois have created a series of miniatures exquisite, intimate habitats basking in India’s culture and crafts. In celebrating the past, they’ve set resorts on the path to the future. 

March, mid-way through the dry season is a good time for sighting tigers. The park felt like fall. The many Dhak trees had no leaves and were ready to burst into a flaming-orange and vermilion-red bloom. Herds of the Bambi-like chital and their larger deer cousins the sambars both favorite tiger food traversed steep hills and gentle valleys. Marsh crocodiles sunned themselves by lotus-filled lakes. Banyan trees housed langur monkey day-care centers.