Van Rāsa: Kasauli’s Newest Luxury Boutique Retreat Invites You To Do Nothing

The car swerves off National Highway 5 at Dharampur onto a narrow incline and I’m jolted awake. Removing my earphones that had been playing SZA’s “Kitchen” on repeat, I look out at the slowly changing scenery, as the shops lining the road soon give way to towering pine trees dotted with langurs against a splendid blue sky.

As the music dies down in my dazed post-nap state, I recognise a strangely familiar hum in the air that briefly transports me elsewhere: it is the sound of crickets, the ubiquitous white noise of my childhood years in Darjeeling. Returning to the mountains, albeit 1,700 kilometres away, I already feel a sense of home.

I am en route to Van Rāsa, a newly-opened luxury boutique retreat in Kasauli, Himachal Pradesh, carved onto the northern face of a hill that overlooks the surrounding mountains and the snow-clad Dhauladhar range in the distance. Set in its own quiet corner, a 30-minute drive from the well-worn streets of the main town, the intent here, I am told, is to slow down and I'm here to do exactly that.

At the car park, I am faced with a steep gradient while a golf cart awaits nearby, which I soon learn has been personally re-engineered to navigate the sharp winding pathways around which the property lies sprawled. Offering them my luggage, I want to make my hill-born ancestors proud so I decline the ride and chose to climb instead.

Drawing on Scandinavian, English Classical, and European Neoclassical design languages, the 16 rooms at Van Rāsa are named after the region’s native flowering trees—Palash, Buransh, Amaltas, and Farash. Stepping into my room—Buransh, 201—I sense an absence that I cannot identify yet. I am instantly drawn to the large floor to ceiling windows, the skylight that runs through the high A-framed ceiling, and the glass shower that blurs the room’s intimate threshold, offering an uninterrupted view of the green hills while ensuring complete privacy.

Sitting on the balcony that runs through the length of the room, I finally recognise the vacuum: the constant vehicular honking and the whirring of the fan that Delhi’s oppressive heat forces us to leave switched on at all hours are suddenly missing. It is the first afternoon of October and Kasauli basks in the late afternoon sun. I can finally hear my thoughts again.

A spiral metal staircase in the room leads to the private heated plunge pool and outdoor deck. Later that night, after dinner, I immerse myself in the warmth of its water that sits comfortably at 45 degrees, with the moon for my lone company, under a myriad of stars and the imposing shadow of the bordering forest behind.

Come evening, a bonfire is lit at the sunken lounge by the terrace. My high-tea is served with a warm cup of tea alongside an assortment of cookies and sandwiches. I can spot the faint lights of Solan in the distance, growing increasingly bright against the deepening blue of the night. Joining me is the hotel’s founder and managing director, Vaibhv Vardhan, who shares his vision behind the space. What I learn through our conversation is visibly evident — that this is a pure labour of love. Vardhan’s philosophy of hospitality moves beyond the harsh commercial parameters of occupancy rates and return on investment; what he wants is to offer the experience of luxury living within a smaller boutique setup.

Along with his mother, Sangeeta Aggarwal Gupta, co-managing director at Van Rāsa, Vardhan designed every element of the hotel, personally picking out the furniture, artworks, and decor. The result is a space that puts nature at the forefront, removes distractions, and enables you to truly log out through the architecture of its design. Wooden accents abound throughout the rooms, stone walls and floors keep you grounded, glass walls and ceilings invite the outside in, and the many lounging areas sprinkled across the property encourage you to sit down and take a breath.

Meals at Syāhi, the all-day dining restaurant follow the same rhythm. Housed within an all glass structure reaching thirty feet high, a deep blue accent wall complements its adjacent wall depicting scenes of the English countryside, a motif that I spot consistently, paired with striped upholstery, and marble-top tables. Meanwhile, the multi-cuisine menu reworks dishes across different geographies. My most memorable meal that I kept returning to is the mustard glazed grilled sole fish served with lemon mash, buttered vegetables, and lemon and caper sauce. The bar sits outside, headed by Jeevan, who’s returned from Dubai with quite a few mixes in his jigger.

I begin my second morning on the balcony with a cup of coffee and a book in hand. Under the spotless sky, I can see the ice-capped peaks of the Dhauladhar, while the crickets continue to provide their background score. Later, I walk down to Neer, the Mediterranean-inspired wellness centre, featuring a spa, separate sauna and steam rooms, an indoor heated pool, a jacuzzi, and an ice bath. I choose just the pool and spend the next two-and-a-half hours all by myself chasing the sun rays playing hide-and-seek through the circular skylights.

In the afternoon, as I return to my beloved balcony, I am forced to confront a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years: I was bored. Back in Delhi, there’s always something that needs to be done, my days dictated by a never-ending to-do list. Here, I had run out of things to do—there was nothing to chase.

I begin to wonder, when did boredom turn into luxury? And this I realise is the real luxury of Van Rāsa, where the hours stretch silently and the mountains stand still. After the initial, strangely novel discomfort of having nothing demanded of me, I allow myself to enjoy the delicious emptiness of my afternoon with absolutely nowhere to be. Because for now, doing nothing feels like enough.