Beating the Sambodhi Retreat

[The Igloo: one room and bath cottage - airconditioning was fine - 24 hour service despite Bodh gaya's errtic power supply]

The Sambodhi Resort, the local yokels of Bodh Gaya will tell you, with a sense of awe, has been put up by Bhojpuri actor Manoj Tiwari. It ‘s an awfully kitschy place, and you would probably forgive the man [or his architect, if he had one] for overdoing things, if only the service had been half as decent as the other, rather ordinary hotels, in Bihar’s number one spot for Buddhist tourism.


If you intend to put up at the ‘resort’, as I did, then here’s a list of things you might have to put up with. My ‘hut’ was 301, a sort of igloo shaped structure, comfortably air-conditioned, and fairly neat at first glance. A 29 inch LCD TV set with tataSky service, a mini-bar if only stocked with mineral water, and the bathroom reasonably clean, except for the creepy crawlies that let themselves in from the garden outside. So far, so good. Considering that the igloo hut comes @ Rs 4,000 a night!

[Faulty plumbing] 

First jolt: the toilet didn’t flush. Second jolt: the flush mechanism was stuck, Third jolt: you try to turn on a tap and find that the fancy lever comes off in your hand. So you send for housekeeping. While Housekeeping takes its time to get to igloo 301, you discover that the usual ‘complimentary’ toiletry stuff is kept on a ledge, and that the little plastic bottles look used (which they are). [I’m not going to bore you with the nit-picking details, but let’s say I recently stayed at a middle range hotel in Darbhanga, (Bihar) and paid less that Rs 1,000 a night and they had a better sense of quality]. Anyway, while waiting for Housekeeping to make its appearance, you discover that the bathroom doesn’t have a single towel rack, or any sort of contraption that one can hang clothes on. There are no shelves or storage spaces, so one has to plonk one’s toothbrush in a glass tumbler and prop it up on the ledge.

[no egronomics, no planning, no design, dehati style: note the old bottles, the comb with no wrapper, etc.]

Housekeeping finally makes its appearance 25 minutes after you’ve made the call, and when they leave, the flush works stiffly, the tap knobs are placed back in their sockets, so that they come off in your hands the next time you use the basin, and the little plastic bottles with ‘body lotion’ and something that looks like oil, have been … not replaced, but refilled (!)

[and finally... room service!]

Room service moves at the pace of the legendary snail. Telephone room service. Wait ten minutes. Boy in ill-fitting uniform appears. Send him back for a menu. Wait another ten minutes. Place an order: one lemon tea, one cold drink, two plates of pakoras. Twenty minutes later, house phone rings. Room service tells you that, the only thing that’s available is Coke. You shrug, okay bring it over. Then room service tells you that the only thing available is a two litre bottle of coke. You tell them, forget it. It’s now seven thirty five. You placed the order at six fifteen. The clock inches towards eight pm. At seven fifty five you’re about to pick up the phone and give room service bloody hell. The door opens at that moment. One lemon tea and two plates of pakoras, delivered after an hour and a half. Pay the bill. Two hundred and ten rupees.

[exteriors are kitschy in the extreme, but colourful]

At ten PM you discover that you’re not going to be able to watch your favourite serial on Star World. Nor can you watch NDTV 24X7. He reason: the fancy TV and TataSky will stubbornly show the basic Hindi and local programmes. No English channels. ‘You have subscribed for the ‘popular pack’. These channels are not available, says the TataSky legend. You thrust a middle finger in its face, and switch off in disgust. It dawns on you. This so-called resort is for Bhojpuri types only, else, they expect their foreign guests [if they have any] to take a crash course in the local lingo!

[The retreat has a swimming pool, a 'gym' and a riverfront.. all gaudily constructed, but not built to last. The place is falling apart already]

Ten minutes later, you’re in for another ‘surprise’. The mini-bar isn’t cool, it doesn’t work. It’s a glorified storage cupboard. The ice-trays hold water. And the mineral water bottles – they are actually refilled with tap water. You’re too tired to complain. You switch on your laptop and watch videos on BBC. The next morning, Room service will perform a jig in front of the mini-bar. To no effect. He will mutter that it’s not working, and will slink out of the room. Anyway, you have a session of the conference to prepare for and that will keep you busy for the day.

It’s time to leave for Patna, 6 pm. Out of curiosity, you open the mini-bar. It’s as dead as ever. Housekeeping never got around to fixing it!