Finding My Way to Villa Travel

I wasn't always a villa person.

Honestly, I used to think it was pretentious.

Who needs a whole house when you're just sleeping there? A hotel room does the job. Bed. Bathroom. TV. What more do you need?

Then I stayed in one. And everything changed.

It was a weekend in Lonavala. A friend had booked this place for her birthday. Big group of us. She sent the link and I remember looking at the photos thinking, "This looks too good to be real."

It wasn't.

We drove up on a Friday evening. The expressway was packed—typical Mumbai madness. But once we turned off the highway and started climbing, something shifted. The air got cooler. The traffic thinned. The buildings disappeared, and hills took over.

We pulled up to the villa around sunset. And I just stood there. The view. These mountains stretching out in every direction, soft and blue in the fading light. A pool that looked like it spilled right into the valley below. The kind of quiet you can actually feel.

I remember thinking, "People live like this?"

We made pasta. Nothing fancy. Just pasta, some tomatoes, fresh basil we found at a roadside stall. But standing around that kitchen with friends, chopping vegetables, opening wine, laughing about nothing in particular—that was the memory. Not the food. The togetherness.

We ate outside on the terrace. Candles flickering. The sound of crickets. Someone played music on a Bluetooth speaker. Someone else told a story that had us all crying with laughter. The night stretched on and no one wanted it to end.

Morning came gentle. No alarms. Just birds and soft light filtering through the curtains. I woke up before everyone else and made coffee in the kitchen, standing by the window watching mist drift over the hills.

There's no word for that kind of peace.

The other days, we did different things. Swam in the pool. Played cards. Took a walk down to the local village and bought fresh vegetables and homemade chikki from an old woman who smiled at us like we were her grandchildren.

We didn't do anything touristy. No forts. No caves. No adventures. And it was perfect.

That trip rewired something in me. I'd spent years traveling the hotel way. Checking in. Checking out. Fighting for pool chairs. Eating buffets with hundreds of strangers. It all felt so… transactional.

Villas felt personal. Like you were actually living somewhere, not just passing through.

So I started seeking them out.

Weekend getaways with friends. Family gatherings where we needed space for everyone. Even work trips—because honestly, spending a few days in a villa with your team is a hundred times better than a hotel conference room.

I've done Lonavala more times than I can count. Each time different. Each time special.

One trip, it rained for two days straight. We couldn't go anywhere. But we didn't mind. Sat on the covered balcony watching the clouds pour down on the valley. Read books. Played board games. Just existed without the pressure to be anywhere or do anything.

Another trip, a big family reunion. Grandparents, parents, cousins, kids. A villa big enough for all of us. The grandparents sat on the lawn watching the younger ones play. Meals were chaotic and loud and wonderful. Exactly how family should feel.

Lonavala and Karjat are special for that.

They're close enough to Mumbai and Pune that you can escape without burning a whole day traveling. But once you're there, you feel like you're a world away. The air is fresher. The pace is slower. The views are honestly breathtaking.

I tell people who are stressed or burned out—go to Lonavala. Stay in a villa. Don't plan anything. Just exist for a couple of days. You'll come back feeling like a different person.

Then there's Goa.

But not the Goa you're thinking of. Everyone goes to Goa for the parties or the beaches. And that's fine if that's your thing. But the Goa I love is different. Quieter. The south coast. Villas tucked into coconut groves where the only sound is the sea and the wind through the palms.

I did a trip there with a small group—just four of us. The villa had a private pool overlooking the water. We'd wake up, swim, have long lazy breakfasts, then wander down to the beach for the afternoon.

Dinners were incredible. The chef came in and made local seafood dishes. Prawns cooked in coconut and spices. Fish curries that I still dream about. We'd sit on the deck watching the sunset with cocktails in hand, talking about everything and nothing.

Those evenings were magic. The kind of magic you can't plan or manufacture. It just happens when the setting is right and the people are right and no one's rushing anywhere.

I've done Thailand too.

Different vibe entirely. More tropical. More lush. The villas there are something else—massive private estates with infinity pools that blend into the ocean horizon. Staff who anticipate your every need before you even know what it is.

But even with all that luxury, the best moments were simple. Sitting on the deck watching the sunset. Eating fresh fruit from the local market. Taking a longtail boat to a nearby island that felt like the edge of the world.

Thailand is for celebration. Milestones. The kind of trips you remember forever.

And Japan.

This one was different. Less tropical. More serene. A villa in the mountains, minimalist in design, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed snowy peaks. We stayed in winter and it was breathtaking.

The experience there was about quiet. About stillness. About being present in a way that's hard to achieve in normal life. We visited temples. Walked through silent forests. Soaked in the natural hot springs that are just… everywhere. There's a reason Japan is known for its onsen culture. It's healing in a way that's hard to explain.

Japan is for peace. For introspection. For experiencing a culture that values calm and tradition.

I've stopped doing "resorts" for most trips. Too many people. Too much noise. Too many rules about when to eat and where to be.

Villas give you something that resorts can't. Freedom. True freedom. You eat when you're hungry. Swim when you're hot. Sleep when you're tired. No schedules. No expectations. Just you and the people you're with, making the days whatever you want them to be.

ShavyStays came into the picture much later.

I'd been finding villas on my own for years, but it was hit or miss. Sometimes amazing. Sometimes disappointing. You'd look at photos online, arrive, and realize the place looked nothing like the pictures.

ShavyStays changed that.

They do the legwork. Actually visit these places. Check everything—pool, kitchen, views, beds, the whole thing. If a villa doesn't pass muster, it doesn't make the list.

That kind of quality control matters when you're planning a trip that matters. A family reunion. A milestone celebration. A corporate offsite where you need everything to be perfect.

And their collection has grown. Beyond India. Thailand, Japan. They've got incredible international options now.

But honestly, their Indian villas are something else. Lonavala. Karjat. Goa. Each one carefully chosen, not just for the space but for the character. The soul. The way it makes you feel the moment you walk through the door.

If I had to give one piece of advice—

Don't overthink it. Pick a destination. Book a villa. Pack light. Go with people you love. Don't plan too much. Leave space for spontaneity. For long meals. For late-night conversations. For doing absolutely nothing and feeling great about it.

Those are the trips you remember. Not the ones where you saw all the attractions. The ones where you actually connected with people. With yourself. With a place.

That Lonavala trip I told you about at the start? That was years ago. I still think about it. The kitchen. The terrace. The laughter around the table.

Since then, I've made a point of travelling that way. Not always. But whenever I can. The memories stick better. The friendships deepen. The experience stays with you long after you've unpacked and gone back to normal life.

That's the power of villa travel. Not just a place to sleep. A place to actually live. Even if just for a few days.

So if you're thinking about it—stop thinking.

Go.

Find a villa. Bring your people. Make some memories.

And take me with you. Well, not literally. But you know what I mean.