A Morning Chai with the Watchman: How @alsisarhaveli Made Me Feel Like Family

Inspired by @alsisarhaveli (not sponsored)

Checking In Without Expectations

When I booked a night at @alsisarhaveli, I wasn’t chasing history or expecting luxury. It was just a midway stop on my way from Udaipur to Delhi — a pitstop in a pink city I’d seen only through Instagram filters. The haveli was charming, with peeling pastel walls, carved jharokhas, and courtyards that whispered of past grandeur.

I arrived late, tired from the 8-hour bus ride. The reception was quiet. A polite nod from a sleepy staff member, a room key, and a brief “Breakfast is at 8 AM, madam.” That was it. No welcome drink, no tour of the property. I went to bed assuming this would be just another night on the road.

The Unexpected Encounter

At 6:30 AM, the soft ring of temple bells woke me up. I stepped out onto the haveli’s rooftop terrace, still in my pajamas, the morning air sharp and fragrant with marigolds.

That’s when I saw him — the old watchman, probably in his 60s, pouring himself chai from a steel flask, sitting cross-legged by the edge of the terrace. He looked up and smiled. “Utho gay toh chai toh banti hai,” he said. (“If you’re up, chai is a must.”)

I hesitated, then nodded. He gestured toward a second cup. No fancy crockery. Just thick-glass tumblers, the kind you find in roadside dhabas. I joined him.

Chai, Conversations & Royal Memories

What followed was a 45-minute conversation I will never forget.

His name was Kailash. He had been working at the haveli for over 30 years — first as a helper, then a watchman. He told me stories of the royal family who once lived there. How the haveli had a secret staircase for the women of the house to watch Holi festivities from behind stone lattices. How the kitchen once fed 40 people daily.

“Ab sirf tourist aate hain. Selfie leke chale jaate hain,” he said with a half-smile. (“Now only tourists come. Take selfies and leave.”)

He wasn’t bitter. Just nostalgic.

We sat sipping chai as parrots fluttered by and sunlight hit the sandstone walls. In that moment, I didn’t feel like a tourist. I felt like a guest. Not of the hotel — but of the haveli’s soul.

The Goodbye That Stayed

I left a couple of hours later. There was no formal checkout process. No one asked for feedback or ratings. But Kailash came to the gate and said, “Agli baar aana toh ruko thoda zyada.” (“Next time you come, stay a little longer.”)

I smiled and nodded. And I meant it.

Why This Memory Lingers

It wasn’t the bedsheets or breakfast that made my stay memorable. It was a shared cup of chai. A real conversation. A glimpse into a world I hadn’t planned to see.

In a world of algorithms and itinerary overload, it’s the quiet, unplanned human moments that give travel its true magic.

So, to @alsisarhaveli — thank you for reminding me that sometimes, the smallest gestures become the biggest stories.