It’s six in the evening, and we’re on our way back after a two-day whirlwind schedule to shoot the brand-new Ananta Spa & Resort in Ajabgarh. The photographer—who had been up since 7 a.m. capturing the stunning shots you’ll see in this feature—is now fast asleep beside me as we race toward Jaipur airport, hoping to make the last flight out. It’s only now, as the sun dips behind the Aravallis and the countryside blurs past the window, that it fully sinks in.
There were no glass chandeliers. No palatial domes. No gilded mirrors or marble inlays. No towering archways meant to recreate a romanticised past. Instead, what I found was something far more disarming: stone warmed by the sun, courtyards where light pooled like water, and villas that echoed not royalty, but earth—humble, grounded, and deeply comforting.
It was clear that this wasn’t just a design decision—it was a philosophy in practice. As Mohit Goyal, the design-forward director at Ananta Hotels & Resorts, explains, “Rajasthan, with its deep cultural roots and royal heritage, is already a canvas of opulence. At Ananta, we sought to add a different brushstroke—one that blends understated
luxury with immersive calm. Instead of emulating the grandeur of palaces, we chose to create sanctuaries where nature speaks louder than décor, and tranquillity takes precedence over extravagance.”
The result is a hospitality experience that doesn’t demand attention—it earns presence. It felt as though the idea of hospitality had been turned inward. This wasn’t a place to be dazzled by. It was a place to remember what stillness tastes like, to rediscover the joy of waking up to the crisp air, feeling the cool terracotta floors beneath your feet, and stepping into the world through courtyards designed to embrace the landscape.
Having visited many resorts that borrow too heavily—from Mughal fantasy and colonial nostalgia to the cookiecutter designs of global catalogues—it’s clear that Ananta at Ajabgarh is different. It doesn’t play dress-up in the language of lost kingdoms, nor does it sell nostalgia or theatrical heritage. Instead, it steps around these traps, creating something far more thoughtful, elemental, and rooted. For the first time in a while, I felt that the land led, and the architecture followed.
ROOTED IN REVERENCE
Rewind 48 hours: We rolled into the village of Ajabgarh, a picturesque 100 kilometres from Jaipur, where Ananta Spa & Resort has taken shape—not with the usual grand gestures, but as a quiet ode to understated elegance. Spanning 30 acres of untouched Aravalli terrain, this resort is a departure from your typical Rajasthani luxury retreat. It’s not about showing off; it’s about showing up. The land speaks, and Ananta simply listens. It doesn’t try to recreate the past—it gently whispers the stories of it, reframed for a new era.
At the heart of Ananta Spa & Resort, Ajabgarh, lies a quiet but formidable generational legacy. The Goyals, a Jaipur-based family with deep roots in Rajasthan, have built a hospitality brand that is less about empire and more about essence. What began with Mukund Goyal—the philosophical patriarch and founding spirit—has now been carried forward by his son Sanjay Goyal and grandsons Mohit and Ashutosh Goyal. Across three generations, the family has remained steadfast in one belief: that true luxury lies not in spectacle, but in stillness. Ajabgarh is their most eloquent expression of that philosophy yet.
And perhaps this harmony with the land comes from a deeper, more personal connection with it. “We acquired the land a few years ago,” says Sanjay Goyal, managing director—Ananta Group. “But the seed of the idea was sown much earlier. Ajabgarh felt like a secret waiting to be honoured, not just discovered.
It offered the kind of emotional topography—raw, mystical, intimate—that aligned perfectly with the Ananta philosophy. For my family, it wasn’t just about hospitality—it was about homecoming.” Interestingly, Ajabgarh, once a fortified kingdom in the 17th century, still carries traces of its past. The fort stands tall, looking down on the village, a silent sentinel to history. But here’s where it gets good—Ananta doesn’t feel the need to mimic it. No faux balconies, no over-the-top courtyards. Just a whisper of restraint, allowing the resort to be what it is—an experience, not an imitation.
The resort masterplan by Scarlette Designs is a walkthrough wilderness, like an open road trip scene in a classic film—curved paths, uneven gradients, surprise views of the hills every now and then. No grid, no rigid lines—just the freedom of a place that knows exactly where it wants to go. It feels like the land is saying, ‘Come on, follow me,’ and the design happily obliges, like a good supporting character that just knows how to let the plot flow.
FOUR ELEMENTAL SCENES
The villas, grouped into four elemental clusters—Earth, Fire, Bamboo, and Lagoon—feel like four different chapters of a film. Each one tells its own story, with its own vibe. The architectural language across these clusters is deeply site-specific and materially honest. There are no unnecessary symbols, no forced drama—just clean, honest lines that speak for themselves. Each villa brings a fresh emotion, as though they’re each in their own scene, but all part of the same story.
Let’s talk about the Earth Villas—they’re like the comforting, silent protagonist of the film. Inspired by the Rajasthani Bhonga huts, they’re circular, fluid, and tactile. The thick rounded walls wrap you up like a warm hug, and the thatched roofs feel like they’re sheltering you from the world. Inside? It’s cool, calm, and quiet—like that perfect moment in the movie when the main character just finds peace, away from the chaos.
And then—boom—the Fire Villas hit you. Bold.
Powerful. Geometric forms that make you do a doubletake. Concrete planes rise like jagged rock formations, like something straight out of a high-octane thriller. They’re not here for the subtlety. They’re here to make a statement, with their angular facades and electric energy. But don’t worry—the design knows when to soften the intensity, with khus grass and flowering shrubs that give it a much-needed cool-down after the heat of the action.
Then, there’s the Bamboo Villas—this is the poetic, artsy montage scene of the film. It’s all delicate, slender columns, inward-sloping roofs, and mandana stone pathways that make you feel like you’ve stepped into a grove. That sensitivity carried through to every decision—especially in the way each elemental villa cluster was conceptualised. It all began with a singular vision.
“The idea of bamboo villas came from a deeply symbolic place,” shares Sanjay. “Bamboo represents resilience, grace and growth—all traits I believe define Ananta’s journey. It bends but never breaks, it grows quickly yet silently, and it always stays rooted. That’s the feeling we wanted Ajabgarh to evoke from the very first visual cue.” And finally—the Lagoon Villas. These are the dream sequence. Imagine the most serene shot in the movie, the one that makes you stop and just breathe in the beauty.
Perched lightly on pillars above koi-filled ponds, these villas don’t just sit there—they float. The water is their stage, and they’re a seamless part of it. Classic cottages, yes, but with the kind of effortless grace that makes them feel like they grew straight out of the water. It’s cinematic.
NATURE AS NARRATIVE
What became clear was how everything here had been designed to blend in. From the golden-hued limestone, to the rough granite in the lobby, every surface speaks of its proximity to the land. Unpolished stone floors, wooden ceilings, fabrics that breathe, and bronze-toned finishes create a feeling of organic assembly—nothing flashy, just perfectly in tune with its surroundings.
The interiors follow suit. The palette is subdued: terracotta, sandstone, warm grey, and burnt umber. The lobby itself—often the centrepiece in Indian resorts—is a moment of intentional restraint. Its form is open, its walls textured, its furnishings low and sculptural. The space doesn’t announce arrival; it merely extends the outdoors inward. A gurgling waterspout, a lone Champa tree, a patch of granite worn by touch—these are the luxury markers here.
ONWARDS, WITH INTENTION
And while Ajabgarh is a quiet triumph, the story doesn’t stop here. In fact, it’s just one chapter in a much larger narrative that the Goyals are carefully and consciously shaping. “Our growth is rooted in purposeful expansion,” shares Ashutosh Goyal, the strategy-driven but grounded next-gen hotelier. “In Karjat, we’re embracing the monsoon-drenched charm of the Western Ghats. Think forest trails, cascading waterfalls and earthy luxury that feels grounding and liberating. In Jaisalmer, we’re reimagining the poetry of the Thar—offering desert luxury with a mindful soul, not mimicry.” Even as the landscape changes, the ethos stays intact. “Scale without soul has never been our ambition. Every new resort is a ‘home in nature,’ with minimal disruption to the environment and maximal enhancement of guest experience.”
Experiential travel, too, plays a central role.
“Experiences must feel organic, not orchestrated,” adds Ashutosh. “Whether it’s a guided meditation under ancient trees or a silent dinner under the stars, our offerings are crafted to amplify connection—whether to place, people, or self.”
LEGACY IN SPIRIT
And above all, there’s an unmistakable spirit at Ananta—one that quietly threads through everything, from the masterplan to the smallest detail. That spirit begins with the family’s patriarch. “Inspiration flows when you remain curious, humble, and open to the world around you,” says Mukund Goyal, the wisdom-rich chairman. “Even at 80, I find immense joy in observing—a tree growing on our property, a guest smiling quietly at sunrise, or a new idea brought to life by the next generation. These moments remind me that life, like hospitality, is about presence and purpose.”
“For me, legacy isn’t in stone or structure, but in spirit. If those who follow—my sons, my grandsons, our team—can continue to build with heart, respect the earth, and serve with sincerity, then my journey feels complete.”
But perhaps what makes Ananta at Ajabgarh resonate most is its refusal to romanticise history. The legends of Princess Ratnavati or the ghost-town of Bhangarh remain part of the local lore, but they are not plastered across walls or re-enacted for effect. Instead, the design offers space for interpretation, imagination, and introspection. And, crucially, sustainability is not treated as a checklist—but a quiet, functioning system. Water is harvested and redirected through lagoons.
Natural cooling techniques reduce dependence on airconditioning. Native plants outnumber ornamental ones. There is no greenwashing here—only discreet, thoughtful interventions that allow the land to breathe.
A NEW STANDARD FOR HOSPITALITY DESIGN
In many ways, Ananta Spa & Resort, Ajabgarh, introduces a new vocabulary to Indian luxury hospitality—one that is less about legacy and more about landscape. With its brutalist elegance and desert stillness, the resort doesn’t seek borrowed legitimacy. It belongs wholly to its place. And that, in itself, is its greatest accomplishment.
At dusk, when the air thins and the Aravallis turn a deeper shade of gold, the resort seems to retreat further into itself. Lanterns begin to glow. Footsteps soften. And for a moment, everything is perfectly aligned: the land, the structure, and the silence in between.
As we race toward Jaipur, the outlines of the Aravallis now dark against the night sky, my mind drifts back to those quiet moments at Ananta. The photographs may capture the beauty—but they will never fully convey the stillness. The subtle hum of a place so connected to its surroundings that it feels timeless, beyond fleeting trends or temporary fashion.
In a world where so many seek to create impressions, Ananta Ajabgarh’s true luxury lies in its quiet resilience. It is a place that doesn’t try to impress—it simply is, in the most profound way possible. And as the plane ascends, leaving behind the vastness of Rajasthan’s skies, I realise I have just witnessed something rare: a retreat that has mastered the art of belonging, where every element feels part of something larger. The legacy of Ajabgarh may have faded in time, but at Ananta, it has found a new voice—one that whispers rather than shouts, inviting you to listen.
And as the plane ascends, leaving behind the vastness of Rajasthan’s skies, I realise I have just witnessed something rare: a retreat that has mastered the art of belonging, where every element feels part of something larger. The legacy of Ajabgarh may have faded in time, but at Ananta, it has found a new voice—one that whispers rather than shouts, inviting you to listen.
Also Read: Design Without Limits: The Archohm Story
