My view is better than yours

A quiet, sensory retreat unfolds at The Postcard in the Durrung Tea Estate, Assam

02 Jul 2025

Think: endless tea gardens, a train occasionally slicing through the landscape, birds making the verandah their playground every morning. I’m not a morning person either — and yet this trip has flipped the script. I’ve somehow enjoyed waking up early. I’ve found joy in the pauses, the waiting, the watching. I’m at The Postcard in the Durrung Tea Estate in Assam. In case the photos haven’t made that obvious already.

It’s 8.30 PM on a pleasant Wednesday in March and I’ve just realised this is a slightly unhinged hour to be replying to work emails. Especially on a trip where I consciously decided I wouldn’t work. So naturally, I switch tabs. And what do I escape to? Writing this story. Which, let’s be honest, is just another kind of work. But it feels like the fun kind — the kind where I can pretend I’m off-duty while still typing furiously with a deadline whispering in my ear. Let’s go backwards because that’s how memory works. It’s almost dinnertime on my last night at The Postcard in the Durrung Tea Estate. Over the past couple of days Ishita Sitwala and I have been shooting the property. While it was a part of work (and the reason why we are here) it was also grounding, and at times exhilarating.

Yesterday was our most productive day. We shot most of the property, ate all our meals on time and like model citizens went to bed early. The lovely Postcard staff had planned a tea trail and tasting for today. After lunch we sat in our second favourite spot — the verandah dining area of a restored 1950s bungalow, a two-storey colonial relic once owned by a tea planter and now transformed into the hotel’s dining and reception space.

The lower floor houses the entrance and verandah while rooms occupy the upper floor. I’m obsessed with the light teal railing that wraps around the spiral staircase. It reappears as a balcony detail and once again on the lobby stairs. That shade of teal feels deliberate — like an ode to colonial colour palettes softened by time and light. As put into words by Kapil Chopra, Founder and Chief Executive Officer at The Postcard Hotel, “Our vision was to craft the finest tea experience in the world and there was no better place to begin than the magnificent 1,400 acre Durrung Tea Estate in Assam. Here we invite our guests to journey through the complete story of tea — from the first leaf on the bush to the final perfect sip.” This is probably a good time to mention that The Postcard in the Durrung Tea Estate occupies 5 acres within a 1,400 acre tea estate with 12 chalets, rooms and suites. Eight are new constructions. We stayed in the newer chalets that are built in the traditional Chang style — a colonial-era stilted construction. Conventionally, they were designed to protect against wild animals and flooding. My bathtub was strategically placed in the centre, overlooking a tall window where a single beam of sunlight poured in every morning, illuminating it.

One of the chalets captured at the crack of dawn; Photography by Ishita Sitwala

That’s when I first spotted Ishita in the distance, beaming behind her lens. I joined her. “I now know why the tea-pluckers wear such thick clothes,” she said. “My legs are scratched to bits. But look at these shots, aren’t they amazing?”

Unlike us, who chose to wander off into the 19th-century tea estate unhinged, unsupervised and unchaperoned, the property organises tea trails and tastings taking great pride in producing some of the finest teas in the world. Ishita kept shooting.We were late for breakfast. I ordered eggs. She got the pancakes, again. Wholewheat with jaggery syrup on the side. “I ordered the most unhealthy thing and they’ve made it all virtuous and delicious,” she laughed.

We also tried the Assamese rice crepe filled with coconut and sweetened with date jaggery. Light, soft, sweet and yes that sealed our late lunch. Today’s lunch was an elaborate Assamese thali (my second in two days). I had joha saul (local aromatic short grain rice), labra (mixed vegetables), aloo pitika (mashed potatoes with chickpeas and coriander), maati mahor daali (slow cooked black lentils), mustard greens in khar, fried and curried fish, bitter gourd, chickpea chutney and pickles. Lunch was late because breakfast was late.

It’s 9 PM now and I’m contemplating soup. Every meal here has been impeccable. Maybe I’ll skip breakfast tomorrow if I have soup tonight. Some time later Ishita headed back to her room. I decided to catch up on work. Soon it would be 8.30 PM and we are right back at the beginning (end) of the story. Later that night at 9 PM I ordered chicken and barley soup. At 10.30 PM I returned to my room. However at 12.30 AM I called the restaurant back and requested the shrimp tagliatelle. Handmade pasta, perfectly al dente, tossed in tangy ou tenga (elephant apple) reduction and crowned with succulent Brahmaputra river prawns. More shrimp than pasta — which is how I like it. Protein matters. “I’m definitely not having any breakfast,” I told myself, drifting to sleep. The next morning I sat in my favourite chair waiting for coffee. Ishita arrived, hair damp, eyes gleaming. “I don’t know what this place has done to me,” she said. “I went for a swim. And all my gear is all over in my room. I’m totally unbothered.” And honestly, so was I. Maybe that’s the real mark of a place well done. Not the long list of activities or themed evenings but the rare and quiet magic of not needing any of it.

P.S: I ate a good big breakfast that morning.