But let's talk "old money"...the hotel that we stayed in, Chapslee, was bought in 1938 by Maharadja Raja Charanjit Singh of Kapurthala from an English Lady (Hermione M.), and it hasn't changed since. This means the wallpaper shows signs of wear and tear, but also that the rooms are filled with antiques (some of fitted with a paper that says "not for use") and the butlers still wear uniforms and white gloves. They serve you "bed-tea" in the morning, and in the afternoon you can have your tea where you want it: in the garden, in the morning room, or in the salon!
In the evening the giant antique table in the dining room is laid with the silver cutlery, and after your gin-tonic you (and the other guests) are served a lavish dinner, after which you have your coffee in the salon...then the lady of the house might join you for a chat and a coffee, and you talk about how India has changed and how rude and selfish everyone has become. They obviously have seen better -and more elegant- times.

In our bedroom there was a painting of all the princes of Rajasthan, and we found not only the Maharadja of Kapurthala (the grandfather of the present owner) but also what must have been the grandfather of our landlord in Delhi (they are also of royal descend). We also had a fireplace in the bedroom, but no airco and fan, which suggests that Shimla gets cold but never hot. We had old carpets, and a dressing room with an old drawer...and T is sure he heard squeeking of floors all night while the room above us was empty, which means the house may have a ghost as well (I never heard anything).

As we have understood by now, the Old Money has good education and a good and respectful upbringing; they regard their servants as part of the family and treat them well and they try to to good for society. The wife of the Maharadja of Kapurthala for example started a school for the middle and lower class in one of the adjacent buildings of the house; it is still run by the current lady of the house (and can be overheard in the morning when the students are drilled into line on the sound of drums), and it has grown so much that the tennis court and the croquest lawn are now the school's playfield. Mrs. Singh told us that even the streetvendor who sells his sweets on The Mall sends his kids to this school, which is fantastic. This is where India's future lies, education and eradication of corruption.

The glamour of the Old Money may have faded somewhat, like their wallpaper, but I'll prefer it any time to what it was replaced with: the rich, spoiled, arrogant youngsters that you can see in all the stylish shops and restaurants (and the Oberoi in Shimla, with their little spoiled kids) and who treat everybody like shit...clearly, money can't buy everything!

It was Ghandi's birthday and a long weekend, so T and I decided to go to Shimla, the summer capital of the Raj. They would pack up in march (packing EVERTHING, files and all) and move the entire government from Delhi and Kolkata to Shimla, where they would stay until october. Naturally, their families would follow, taking the little railway which was constructed in 1903.
Not surprisingly, Shimla (at least the old part of it) is predominantly British in style, with lovely old houses, small streets and little shops.

The center (called The Mall) seems to be build on a hilltop, stretching for about 7 km and ending on one side with the Viceregal Lodge which looks like a combination of Harry Potter's castle and an old cathedral. In Shimla's old center one can still find old english mansions that display the grandeur of old times...on the sides of the (very steep!) hill 4 story houses are scattered, having (according to the Lonely Planet) "a chaotic appearance of a temporarily arrested landslide of buildings cascading down the hills". Indeed, one does not want to imagine what will happen if an earthquake should occur...the houses are built with the thinnnest floors possible, on tiny concrete pillars, no cross connections at all...according to the lady of the House that we stayed in it will be the effect of giant domino: one house falling on top of the other, and so on...and no access for rescue parties as there is only one main road which undoubtly will be covered in debris...let's hope it doesn't happen.

Anyway, T and I had a lovely time. The people in Shimla are defenitely more relaxed than in Delhi, with the typical appearance of mountain-people....suntanned, weather-worn faces, lighter skincolour, many with the strange amber coloured eyes that one can see in the north. They wear sleeveless jackets made of sheepwool, and little round hats; winter is very cold and it shows, as all the houses have fireplaces (but no fans or airco's!). Shimla is a tourist destination for the Indians as well, and there were many of them, strolling about on the mall, snacking on sweets and letting their children ride horses or buy balloons. No beggars, relatively little dirt and apart from the honking not so much noise...and most of all, crisp clean fresh mountain air! What a treat!

We had a lavish lunch at the Cecil Oberoi hotel, The uptown hotel, with a view over the valley...and were amazed by some rich Indian parents who shamelessly let their kids dance ON the table...with personnel standing around helplessly as it is not their place to say anything. Apparantly these nouveau riche also wipe their shoes with the curtains in their rooms -they are paying for it after all- and extinguish cigarettes onto the carpets...?! Welcome to the new money in India!