The squire from Tikli Bottom

Remembering Martin Howard, naval pilot, raconteur and buffalo farmer, who hosted everyone from backpackers to retired prime ministers at his Gurgaon haveli

There is nothing more poignant in a faraway land than stumbling across a remnant of your native culture, marooned thousands of miles away. I first encountered this sensation as a budding young travel writer one foggy Christmas outside Delhi. Turning up the drive, lined with Traveller Palms and pecking Guinea Fowl, a rose-pink bungalow came into view. Under the pillared portico stood a tall Englishman with a polka-dot cravat and twinkling eyes. My host, Martin Howard, was an ‘exuberant, Kipling-quoting, salty-humored old India hand’, who, with his elegant wife, Annie, lived here, at the delightfully-named Tikli Bottom. Preparations were in full swing for a Christmas party. Annie, breezy in turquoise block print and beaming welcome, thrust some tinsel into my hand with the request, ‘Do decorate the camel.’ The real joy of Tikli Bottom, in many ways an English estate with tropical fronds, was the community that the Howards created around them. The bungalow’s interiors were airy and serene, thanks to Annie’s eye, but they were also open to the much-loved local children, who bounced on the sofas and jumped in the swimming pool, like flocks of starlings. The couple had opened Tikli to paying guests and visitors came from New York, Edinburgh and Mumbai, including at least one member of the British Royal Family — all fascinated by this unique swansong of the Raj on the rural fringes of Gurgaon.