The Kuno Forest Retreat: Where Nature Meets Luxury
The tarmac unfurled beneath us, a ribbon unwinding through sun-dappled Madhya Pradesh. Suraj Rathore, my driver for the day, steered us from Gwalior’s metal-winged nest towards the emerald embrace of Kuno Forest Retreat. Three and a half hours whispered the odometer, but time, in Suraj’s company, danced to a different beat. His words, seasoned like the mustard seeds crackling in his grandmother’s recipe, painted vibrant murals on the windshield. Tales of his rental car odyssey, where tourists became friends and dusty backroads turned into treasure maps. He narrated engine lullabies and puncture dramas, each pothole a portal to an anecdote brimming with laughter and chai warmth. In that sun-kissed ride, time-warped and stretched. Three and a half hours became a tapestry woven with laughter, adventure, and the heady spice of life, seasoned by a man who saw poetry in pistons and magic in miles.
By the time Kuno’s emerald gates welcomed us, I wasn’t just a passenger; I was a fellow traveller, my heart a mosaic of sun-warmed roads and mustard dreams. Ah, Kuno Forest Retreat! The moment you arrive, the jungle casts its spell. Kuno’s embrace unfolded like a peacock’s fan, vibrant and alive. Drummers, bronzed by the sun and steeped in rhythm, pulsed the air with local tunes, their instruments whispering ancient forest secrets.
Folk dancers, twirling in kaleidoscopic costumes, painted the earth with stories older than time. I stood, a lone leaf caught in the whirlwind of welcome, anticipation thrumming through me. After a prompt check-in, I was escorted to B-11, one of fifty premium tents scattered like fallen stars beneath the emerald canopy. Each is a whispered promise of comfort and adventure, crafted by Evoke Experience, masters of turning moments into memories. Canvas walls blushed with the fading sun, and lanterns, winking like fireflies, beckoned me closer.
Within, plush cushions embraced me like a mother’s hug, promising nights spun from dreams and the whispers of the forest. This wasn’t just a tent; it was an invitation to dance with nature, a canvas for adventures yet to be painted. And as the embers of sunset danced on the canvas roof, I knew, with a thrill that snaked through my veins, that Kuno Forest Retreat had woven me into its magic. This was no ordinary stay; it was a whispered promise of a wild symphony. As the sun dipped, painting the world in fiery oranges and blushing pinks, a hush fell over the forest. Leaves whispered secrets in the breeze, and even the crickets seemed to hold their breath.
The dawn had barely cracked its golden egg over the Vindhya Range, and I found myself tethered to the earth no more, my feet lifted by the gentle embrace of a hot air balloon. As the ropes unfurled like a magician’s ribbon, and the basket began its ascent, the world below transformed into a breathtaking tapestry. Then, Nyasa’s melody unfolded, like a silken scarf unfurling in the twilight. This wasn’t just music; it was a conversation. Notes twirled and danced, painting stories in the air. Strings whispered secrets to the wind, while drums rumbled with the earth’s ancient pulse. As the music flowed, the boundaries between the audience and the artist blurred. Heads bobbed, toes tapped, and smiles bloomed like fireflies in the twilight. For that fleeting moment, we were all part of the orchestra, each breath a note, each laugh a cymbal clash, each heartbeat a drumbeat echoing through the emerald symphony. When the last note faded, leaving behind a trail of glittering silence, the world felt alive in a new way.
As the night deepened, cloaking the retreat in velvet darkness, the laughter around the dying embers softened to contented sighs. My belly, still humming with the symphony of flavours from Malai Kofta’s creamy waltz and Shahi Toast’s crunchy tango, settled into a comfortable slumber. The air, fragrant with woodsmoke and unspoken anticipation, whispered promises of secrets waiting to be unveiled in the first blush of dawn. Sleep came in snatches, dreams laced with the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of unseen creatures. The next morning, when the first hint of grey kissed the horizon, a symphony of coughs and clinking thermoses announced the imminent adventure. We, a band of nature-hungry influencers and shutter-wielding photographers – gathered, eyes bright with a shared hunger for the wild.
The jeep rumbled to life, its growl a challenge to the slumbering forest. As it plunged into the emerald labyrinth, headlights knifing through the pre-dawn mist, the anticipation crackled like static in the air. The chill, once a nuisance, became a crisp accomplice, sharpening our senses, and etching every sight and sound onto our memories. By the time the sun gilded the treetops, transforming the mist into a glittering halo, we knew we weren’t just spectators; we were threads woven into the tapestry of the forest. The gateway to Kuno wasn’t a stark arch or a pompous gate, but a mischievous wink from the earth itself. Houses, squat and earthen-hued, rose like slumbering hillocks from the ground, their thatched roofs mimicking the gentle swells of the Vindhya Range.
And then, the magic unfolded at 9 am. A spotted deer, a ghost grazing in the dappled light. The silence, no longer empty, pulsed with the heartbeat of the wilderness, a melody we carried within us long after the jeep rumbled back to the retreat. For two glorious hours, we surrendered to the rhythm of the wild, weaving through sun-dappled glades and dusty tracks. A flash of crimson – a woodpecker hammering away at a hidden feast. A turquoise blur – a parakeet darting through the leaves like a jewelled arrow. A majestic grey form soaring overhead – a crested hawk, surveying its domain with piercing eyes. With each sighting, our hearts soared, echoing the symphony of birdsong that filled the air. But Kuno’s magic extended beyond feathered jewels.
The forest itself whispered the quiet hum of renewal, a testament to the tireless efforts of conservationists. Chital, their spotted coats dappled with sunlight, grazed serenely in clearings. Seven hours, woven from adventure and awe, flew by in a blur of chirps, trumpeting calls, and the rustle of unseen creatures. By the time we returned to Kuno Forest Retreat, the sun had climbed high, painting the sky in hues of orange. Our bellies, rumbling with the rhythm of the wild, found solace in a delicious post-lunch spread. But the day’s adventures were far from over.
The retreat itself beckoned, its heart filled with the treasures of local artisans. Craft stalls, vibrant oases amidst the towering trees, whispered tales of tradition and skill. Intricately woven textiles, pottery glazed with the blush of sunrise, and jewellery that shimmered like dewdrops on spiderwebs – each piece a miniature masterpiece, a captured breath of the forest’s soul. As the shadows stretched and the sun whispered its goodbyes, the retreat pulsed with a new rhythm. Not the rustle of leaves or the symphony of birds, but the beat of cultural awakening. The stage, once a sun-dappled clearing, transformed into a canvas of light and music. Gautam Kale, a maestro of melody, took centre stage, his voice a silken thread weaving tales of his homeland.
Stories of Madhya Pradesh unfolded in each refrain, tales of tribal wisdom and forgotten kings echoed in the lilt of his music. It was a journey for the soul, a flight on the wings of melody. Then, the stage burst into a tapestry of movement. Folk dancers, draped in colours as vibrant as the sunset, twirled and stomped, their bodies echoing the rhythms of ancient rituals. Vibrant expressions of tribal spirit painted the air with energy, each leap defiance against silence, each twirl a celebration of life.
Our feet tapped, our heads bobbed, and smiles bloomed on our faces. And as the final notes faded and the dancers bowed, the night wrapped us in a warm embrace. A feast, a tapestry of flavours mirroring the cultural symphony, awaited. Each bite was a burst of spice and earth. Bellies full, hearts brimmed with the beauty of culture embraced, I retired under a sky studded with a million stars, each one a silent witness to the magic that had unfolded.
The day’s journey, etched in memory, was a silent promise – a pledge to return, to delve deeper into the emerald labyrinth, and to surrender, once again, to the symphony of Kuno. The next morning, Sheopur to Gwalior, was a blur of golden fields and wind-whipped hair. Thanks to Umesh Sahu (my chauffeur), my impromptu mustard field photoshoot yielded enough clicks to make Instagram jealous. I left home sun-kissed and selfie-fied! MP Tourism and Evoke Experiences, you absolute legends! Kuno Forest Festival was a safari of epic proportions, with more thrills than a cheetah on caffeine. Consider me officially #TeamWild!
Address: Campground in Ranipura, Madhya Pradesh
Phone: +1800 270 2700
Website: https://www.kunoforestretreat.com/
Car Rental Service from Gwalior – Kuno
Suraj Rathore: 9826369451
Umesh Sahu: 9301253639
