Grand Tour: Inside Devyani Jaipuria's Delhi Home

My initiation to Devyani Jaipuria's sprawling estate begins outside it: a neoclassical facade in pristine white, towering columns holding up a sweeping portico, and manicured lawns running out towards a stone fountain of sculpted horses. It reminds me of old English bungalows, an unlikely image in this corner of New Delhi, which is calmer than the rest of the mega city around it.

Nothing about the house, it turns out, has been accidental. Rather, it is built on a foundation laid well before Jaipuria herself. She is the daughter of Ravi Jaipuria, chairman of RJ Corp and one of India's most prominent business figures, known widely for his footprint in the beverage industry. Jaipuria grew up immersed in that world of enterprise, absorbing its lessons early, but has since built out a footprint distinctly her own, one that spans education, healthcare and business in near equal measure.

A Legacy Beyond Business

As pro vice chairperson across Delhi Public School International Gurugram, DPS Gurugram, and Dharav High School, she has helped shape young minds beyond academic results. Alongside, she leads Devyani Food Industries, one of India's largest franchise operators, and serves as director at Cocoon Hospital, Jaipur. Her social initiatives run just as deep, from skill and education centres like Pravah and Shiksha Kendra to her work as trustee of the Aliya Charitable Trust, the Champa Devi Jaipuria Charitable Trust, and the Mala Jaipuria Foundation, extending care into women's education, elderly welfare and healthcare access.

Ask Jaipuria how the house came to be, and she doesn't reach for an architectural term. "The brief that I gave to my architect was roses, natural light, music, jazz," she says. "That is how I built this home."

It is an unusual brief, and yet it explains the house better than a floor plan might. Past an arched doorway of scrolled wrought iron and glass, a foyer paved in polished white marble opens to give a sense of scale. A two-storey courtyard, painted entirely in white, rises open to the sky, turning what could have been a passage into a space worth lingering in.

A House Curated Like A Gallery

Nearby, the main living area carries the thought further: vaulted ceilings, thick exposed wooden beams, a wall of glass gridded in black metal looking out onto the garden. Classic European armchairs sit over faded vintage carpets. Between rooms, a rose rests in a metal horse-head vase, clearly not accidental.

Yet for all the institutions she has built and inherited, there is a more personal pursuit that runs alongside them: an eye for art cultivated through instinct and travel.

"For me, taste isn't just about collecting beautiful objects," Jaipuria says. "It's about curating a meaningful life.

Old English oil paintings hang in her home alongside pieces picked up at vintage markets across Europe and objects handed down by her grandmother. "If you see elements in my home, you will find a lot of vintage pieces," she says.

And so, I look.

The living area offers the first clue: a glossy black grand piano sits in a sunlit corner, and the walls carry a mix of master artists. A bold canvas of horses rendered in geometric form against split red and blue reveals itself as a classic M F Husain. Not far from it hangs a black-framed, fierce face built almost entirely of thick, unyielding lines, a Souza. Across the room, in stark contrast, are the bright, stylised women of Thota Vaikuntam, hanging near A Ramachandran's Dancer in the Lotus, a watercolour and silver ink work of a figure amid lotus flowers.

The entrance hallway makes her love for the arts explicit still, laid out almost like a gallery in its own right. An antique Thanjavur painting, heavy with gold leaf, hangs alongside a vibrant Pichwai work and an intricately detailed Tibetan Thangka. Further along, a canvas of 108 Buddhas sets a tone of stillness before a visitor has properly stepped past the foyer. Amid these traditional works is an interesting juxtaposition: contemporary works by Paresh Maity, each an explosion of vibrant colour that bridges vivid realism with expressive abstraction. In another room, Jamini Roy waits her turn to find a spot on the wall, possibly once Manjit Bawa has had his share.

But her collection's most personal chapter hangs outside the main residence, beyond the lawns, and within the outhouse. One textured stone wall here is dedicated entirely to charcoal sketches of tigers and leopards, the eyes in each rendered with an unsettling, lifelike precision.

"This is a very special corner of my house," Jaipuria says. "On one of my trips to Ranthambore, I bumped into this artist who was sitting in one corner and painting these artworks. I was so captivated, I just asked him to give me all his works."

I see what she means. The black and white paintings seem to follow my gaze, their lines so precise that I mistake the creations for photographs, despite repeated glances. "I think sometimes we forget to talk about people who are not so known, and we just keep talking about the masters," Jaipuria says.

But it's one thing to collect things, and another to take forward what you inherit. Aware of her multi-billion-dollar lineage, Jaipuria says, "Growing up around extraordinary achievers, I think it definitely impacts you a little bit. What was handed over to me, I feel very responsible towards it. Firstly, I want to protect it and then build on it."

She pauses before adding what she considers the point of it all. "I feel if I can impact lives positively, that is a legacy I would like to talk about."

The Luxury Of Slowing Down

The legacy she speaks of is not abstract to her. In an earlier conversation, she framed it plainly: her interest lies in building institutions that still hold up decades from now, ones where education produces adaptable thinkers rather than perfect test scores, and where healthcare keeps dignity and access at its centre rather than treating them as afterthoughts. Growth, in her view, has to mean something beyond simply getting bigger.

It's a distinction that seems to guide her thinking on almost everything now, from the institutions she runs to the art she gathers to the house itself. "Luxury to me has become less about acquisition and far more about emotion," Jaipuria says. "I'm drawn to things that feel timeless rather than trendy, whether it's art, architecture, textiles or people."

There is also, she adds, a luxury in pace. “I enjoy the luxury of not rushing,” she says. “We live in a world that constantly pushes urgency, visibility, and speed. I value slowness now, whether it is a conversation, a meal with family, or simply the freedom to think clearly.”

And by the time I make my way back out, past the rose in its horse-head vase, past the fountain and its sculpted horses, I realise I haven't once felt rushed either.

It is, in the end, what she keeps returning to when asked what she wants people to feel in her home. "I don't think homes become memorable because they are perfect," Jaipuria says. "They become memorable because they make people feel comfortable, welcomed and emotionally safe."