CLASS EFFECT.

Byline: ADITI SENGUPTA

Rediscover the pleasures of an ageless destination at The Leela Kempinski Goa. By Aditi SenGupta

It all began with a pitter and a patter. Just when my ears were getting used to the singsong rhythm, the rain intensified its pitch. I calmly watched as it beat down on the lagoon outside the room, resting in the knowledge that there cannot be a better way of soaking in the Konkan monsoon. It was a matter of pure luck--like the hot chocolate on a gooey brownie--that I was at the Leela Kempinski in Goa. One of the few places that forces you to revisit the idea that Goa is all about the sun.

The regular Goa disappeared in a flash of lighting the moment I hit the road to Cavelossim, a small village in the south where the Leela is located. Barring the imposing gates that marked the entry to the property, there was nothing that made me feel that the pleasant drive had come to an end. Because the rain-nourished greenery continued way into the acres of the sprawling hotel, also one of Goa's first deluxe properties.

As the SUV pulled into the porch, I was greeted with a cooling drink of coconut water. To say that the lobby is spacious is an understatement. Inviting couches vie for your attention as much as wall sculptures. The pace of activity, though never lax, was just suited for the mellow weather.

To accentuate the feeling, I was carted to my room at the relatively isolated Conservatory Premiere wing. The draw of the king-size bed came a close second to the lure of the snug settee in the sitting room. It was here that I spent the next two hours, enjoying a hot meal of rice and chicken in black bean sauce.

A spa appointment called for a break in my reverie. The ayurvedic full-body massage, which lasted a good hour, rubbed in the message that I was indeed in good hands. Sleep-inducing melodies of the forest filled the treatment room while the fragrant oils played their part in lulling me into a state of sinful indolence.

Before long it was time to get ready for a dinner at the Riverside, the hotel's Italian restaurant. What I managed to sneak in between was a quick round of the property with its horticulturist. He proudly took me around the premises, pointing out patches of spice gardens, golfing greens and even bonsai parks.

Convinced that the hotel is indeed strong in aesthetics, I set out to test its culinary skills. The sumptuous Five Cheese Pizza and Duck Foie Gras went down well with the Chilean wine. But the icing on the cake was something that is not printed on the menu. It was the singer at Riverside, who performed every retro number I requested that night.

I woke up to delicious images of seafood next morning. And the prospect of such a lunch led me to skip an equally appetising breakfast of Goan sausages and scrambled eggs at the poolside Cafe. I headed out for the Fisherman's Wharf, something of an institution in Goa. A stone's throw from the Leela, it offered me a hugely satisfying meal of pomfret, mackerel and bebinca.

Feeling happily stuffed, I ambled back to the hotel and promptly cancelled the second spa appointment. The Goan susegade had closed in on me and I surrendered without much ado. The rain, which showed no signs of relenting, kept the music alive and the spirits kicking.

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