The art of stillness at Chittoor Kottaram

Hidden away behind the ancient Sri Krishna Temple in Kochi, Chittoor Kottaram revealed itself to me like a secret whispered by time. The one-hour drive (from Kochi airport) ended in a lush grove where coconut and banana trees swayed gently, and a chorus of birds heralded my arrival. As my car rolled into this sylvan stillness, I felt an unspoken promise of peace. Milton, the royal caretaker (Karyastan) and his attentive team gave me a heartfelt, traditional welcome. Before me stood an elegant 18th-century mansion, its gabled roof and pillared verandahs mirrored in the placid backwaters of the Periyar.

 

Here, silence isn’t empty—it is eloquent.

 

Managed by CGH Earth, this former royal residence is now a “single-key” retreat—when you stay here, the entire palace and its staff are exclusively yours. The tall trees stand like sentinels, cicadas hum in chorus, and breezes carry the scent of rain-soaked earth. I knew, at that moment, I had entered a rare world where time chooses to rest.

 

The palace by the temple

 

Chittoor Kottaram was originally built in the late 18th century for the royal family’s private use during visits to the nearby Sri Krishna Temple. In those days, the Maharaja and his entourage would journey from Tripunithura to Chittoor by boat—gliding through shimmering waterways until this serene palace came into view.

The palace became one of the favourite retreats of Maharaja Rama Varma, also known as Chowarayil Theepetta Valya Thampuran, who ruled Cochin from 1932 to 1941. During temple festivals, the palace would come alive in regal splendour—the durbar hall draped in finery, noblemen from nearby villages gathering in reverence, and the Maharaja presiding over audiences from his grand Oonjal Kattil, bestowing gifts upon his visitors. Local elders still recount these visits as cherished memories, when the air itself seemed perfumed with royal grace.

 

Centuries later, the palace endured the slow passage of time. In the late 1990s, Sri Kanippayyoor Krishnan Namboothiripad, a renowned Vasthu expert, discovered that its roofing style dated back to as early as the 1600s, blending Kerala and Dutch architectural sensibilities. A meticulous restoration followed in 2005 by architects Latha Raman and Jaigopal Rao of Inspiration, who revived its structure and replaced its terracotta tiles with the vibrantly patterned Athangudi tiles once popular in Cochin’s palaces.

 

The second and more nuanced restoration in 2016, led by heritage architect Meenakshi Jain and supported by the Helen Hamlyn Trust, UK, brought back its timeless essence. Lady Hamlyn herself curated the palace interiors—selecting vintage art, antique mirrors, and handcrafted furniture from across India and beyond. Every room, every beam, every polished tile now tells the story of a palace reborn—faithful to its past, yet quietly whispering to the present.

 

Where time pauses

 

My suite upstairs named afer Lady Hamlyn, opened into a wraparound verandah that caught the breeze from the backwaters. The carved rosewood staircase below gleamed under soft light, and the stained-glass panel at its head scattered jewel-toned reflections on the walls. The Athangudi tiles gleamed like polished mosaics, while the Manichitrathazhu locks on the wooden cupboards evoked nostalgia for a gentler age.

 

Mornings began with the lilting Sopana Sangeetham wafting from the temple—music that seems to travel on the wings of dawn itself. By the time the first light fell on the pond and the trees shimmered awake, I’d already fallen under the palace’s spell. My breakfast in the airy latticed verandah filled with period furniture: idiyappam with stew, fresh guava and papaya, pineapple juice glinting like liquid gold—all served as the cicadas launched into their exuberant morning concert.

 

Days unfolded like a gentle dream. I’d sit by the gazebo watching the ripples on the Periyar, or write in the balcony with the wind as my only companion. Boatman Antony would take me on unhurried rides through the backwaters, while the in-house cook Sajida’s soulful meals awaited my return. Her faithful assistant, Martin, would carry my compliments to her, and she would blush behind the kitchen curtain—a sight as heartwarming as her food.

 

Evenings were theatre in slow motion. As oil lamps were lit along the lawn, the song of the cicadas rose to a crescendo, concluding the day long concert, their metallic symphony mingling with the fragrance of jasmine and wet grass. Supper under the stars, by the water’s edge, felt like dining inside a dream. With no sounds to intrude and no screens to interrupt, sleep came tenderly, wrapping me in a cocoon of stillness.

Luxury here isn’t marble or opulence—it is solitude, space, and silence. It is the rare privilege of being entirely alone, yet completely cared for.

 

Echoes beyond the palace

 

When I did venture out, Kochi unfurled its old-world charm. The spice markets of Ernakulam were a feast for the senses—the air thick with cinnamon, cloves, and peppercorns that seemed to whisper Kerala’s trading legacy. These were, Sajida told me, the same spices that defined her mother’s and grandmother’s recipes.

 

A short drive away lay the historic quarter of Mattancherry, with its 16th-century Portuguese-built palace, the evocative Jew Town, and the centuries-old synagogue lined with antique shops, spice sellers, and art cafés. The streets echoed with layers of history—mosques, churches, temples, and colonial mansions standing shoulder to shoulder. Wandering through them, I felt the same timelessness that pervaded Chittoor Kottaram—heritage preserved not as relic, but as living memory.

 

A journey within

 

On my last morning, I sat in the verandah as a soft breeze stirred the leaves and the first birdcall rippled across the water. I realised that in these few days, Chittoor Kottaram had quietly transformed me. I found myself watching the smallest movements of life—the flight of a dragonfly, the pattern of sunlight on old tiles, the rise and fall of cicada song.

 

The world here teaches you to be still. To listen. To breathe. In this sanctuary, the mind unknots itself, the body finds rest, and the soul reclaims its rhythm.

 

I came seeking a getaway and found a gentle awakening. True luxury, I learnt, is not indulgence—it is presence. It is the art of doing nothing, yet feeling everything. At CGH Earth- Chittoor Kottaram, time slows, the senses open, and you discover that stillness itself can be the most exquisite journey of all.

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