A house in the pines that is in no particular hurry.
The White Magnolia began the way most good things in the hills do — slowly, and as a family matter. My father and I look after this house ourselves. There is no reception counter, no lanyards, no script. When you arrive, one of us opens the gate.
Between us we hold a simple division of labour: he knows every stone of the property and the name of everyone in the bazaar; I handle the bookings, the playlists, and the argument about whether the bonfire needs more wood. (It always needs more wood.)
There are five homes across two floors, a garden that earns its keep every winter evening, and a kitchen that cooks what is fresh rather than what is laminated. Dogs stay free. Bottles you bring are your own business — we will find the glasses. Nothing here is designed to impress you in the first ten minutes. It is designed for the third morning, when you have stopped checking the time.
— Anirudh & his father, your hosts
Read them like a magazine, or skip straight to booking. Either way, every one of them comes with the garden, the bonfire, and the kitchen.
Two bedrooms, two attached baths, and windows that open straight into the hills. The light comes in early here, and in three years nobody has once complained about it. This is the room people photograph before they have unpacked.
Bunk beds, the plains stretched out below, and city lights flickering on after dark. This is the room where the conversation runs long past the plan, and the veranda outside has heard most of it.
Our largest ground-floor home, opening straight onto the garden. Made for the trips where someone always ends up cooking, someone always ends up napping, and everyone has quietly agreed this is fine.
Warm wood, forest green, and a bed that makes a persuasive case for five more minutes. Steps from the garden, and closer still to the bonfire — you will smell the woodsmoke before you see it.
Quiet, generous, and suspiciously close to the kitchen — which we have always considered a feature, not a flaw. Come alone; you will not be left alone unless you would rather be.
Birthdays, reunions, and the trip your group chat has been planning for two years. Rooms combine into full-floor and full-villa stays — garden, bonfire, kitchen and all.
Every room, every way to book it — so you know exactly what you are getting. Direct on WhatsApp is fastest, and it comes with the family treatment.
Not sure which one fits? Message us your dates and group size — we will tell you honestly.
The mountains do not ask you to do anything. Neither do we.
Kasauli, Himachal Pradesh
Small town, short distances. Most of this is a walk or a very short drive, and we are happy to point you at the quieter versions of all of it.
A narrow path through pine and oak, best walked slowly with a flask. Birdsong the whole way, and almost nobody else on it.
Once called Hawa Ghar. The hills go orange, everyone goes quiet, and then everyone reaches for their phone at the same moment.
Kasauli's highest point, with a Hanuman temple at the top and the plains laid out below. Leave your snacks in the car — and mind the monkeys.
Built in 1853, all gothic arches and stained glass, with old chestnut trees leaning over the churchyard.
Cobbles, colonial-era shopfronts, woollens, and small cafés. The kind of walk where you buy something you did not plan to.
One of India's oldest distilleries, running since the 1820s. Worth the detour for the history alone.
We are in Kasauli, Himachal Pradesh — an easy climb up from the plains and a world away from them. Send us your starting point and we will send back directions that actually help.
Dates, rates, and whether the bonfire is really free. One message and we will sort it out.
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