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Magazine
Fading grandeur
MITA KAPUR
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The once thriving havelis of Shekhawati with their vibrant murals tell a sad tale of neglect today.
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Photo: PTI
Symbol of an era gone by: A haveli in Nawalgarh converted into a museum.
It was like being assaulted. Or looking at a Dali — the real morphing into the bizarre. Driving through Chomu, a young girl whizzed past on a scooter; head covered in black and red bandhini, a lady crouched on a camel cart ma
noeuvred it through cacophonous traffic and a Ripley “Believe it or not” remark — “You know 40 per cent of India’s GNP is generated by people from the Shekhawati region?” He continued, enjoying the disbelief on my face, “The Birlas, Bajajs, Lohias, Mittals, Poddars, Ruias, Modis, Dalmias are originally from Shekhawati.”
Rao Shekhaji, a Rajput Kachhwaha chieftain, after whom the region is named, created an environment of business opportunity and a sound taxation policy. He made sure that property and business in each family was split equally between brothers. Trading through the silk route that worked through Pakistan, China, Morocco, via Gujarat, money and banking was in the hands of the “marwaris”. As a symbol of their success, leading business families made opulent havelis, commissioning artists to paint frescoes on the walls and ceilings. Early 18th to the 20th century saw the growth of architecture and painting in this region. Not surprising then to know there are more than 550 havelis in Nawalgarh alone. When the sea routes opened around 1820, most traders moved to the more promising trade centres — Bombay, Calcutta and Madras, leaving behind structures that still live in the past.
Intricate design
We drove to Dundlod to see the famous Goenka haveli that has been converted into a museum and attempts are being made to restore it to its original glory. Built by Thakur Kesri Singh in 1750, the haveli has a majestic doorway, with intricately carved wooden borders and delicate jaali work etched in brass. Stairs that commanded a steep incline up to the doorway nestled in its basement spaces a Lakshmi Photo Studio with Preity Zinta in a red off-shoulder dress and pouted lips in its glass framed counter. I peeped into a narrow alley that also climbed upto the haveli — a chocolate brown youth leaned nonchalantly against the wall, playing a synthesiser. God knows how many ages survived here.
The walls are all painted and so are the arches to the windows and doors. Ceilings have Krishna cavorting with gopis looking down on you. The natural stone colours are still vibrant though the walls bearing the brunt of nature’s elements speak a tale of neglect. How can such beautiful scenes be left to endure the vagaries of heat, dust and rain? I stepped into a quadrangle with passages running around it, leading to rooms where the family once lived. The outer quadrangle in all havelis is used by the men folk while the inner one is used by the women folk for all household activities. The outer quadrangle had models of Kesri Singh with his two sons, the munim, sitting at a low desk with the red khatas, signifying the importance of business and trade in this area.
The inner quadrangle had cauldrons large enough to hide an adult, used for storing rice, lentils, jaggery. A cage for birds, our guide told us, was used for protecting yoghurt from cats. Space is utilised thoughtfully. A parinda was shaped out of the space that carried the staircase to the upper floors.
Incongruous
The climb up takes you to the living quarters with huge wooden chests, a baby pram, a carved wooden galla (for cash and coins), a jhoola for Lord Krishna, old account books, and a 105-year-old vessel with Ganges water. Sunlight filters in through blue and red Belgian glass windows and outside, a Rocky Tailors is nestled in the basement of a 200-year-old Shiva temple. The family built chatris a little away from the haveli, where ancestors were laid to rest. Inverted, lotus shaped chatris had indigo and red stone colours in their frescoes vibrantly alive, the patterns delicate and minutely detailed.
Shops have sprung up in the outer passages of most havelis in Nawalgarh, paying a pittance for rent — Rs. 11, Rs. 17.50 per month, the amount having been decided and sealed two generations ago. These shops are valued at Rs. 20-25 lakhs today. The Singdodia haveli was estimated a buying price at Rs 1.5 lakh 10 years ago, but is now being offered Rs. 90 lakhs. The Bansidhar Bhagat haveli stood out in one of the by lanes. It had a row of colonial pillars, carved in the 16th century Renaissance style with the bounty of fruits and flowers as its theme. Oddly, the frescoes within its arches were traditional. We walked past countless havelis, all telling similar tales of neglect, of brothers fighting, of being locked up because the younger generations live in the metros or abroad. Even in their ruined state, their beauty was haunting, leaving a flavour of past grandeur.
The Poddar haveli is the only fully restored haveli and museum in Nawalgarh. The artist who restored the haveli’s frescoes was there. We spoke of how things were then and now, he was pensive about the art not getting its deserved respect and dying out, “as if it’s fading into the sunset”. People were friendly and I couldn’t get over laughing at the oddness of our local guide, a young village lad, answering “haan, Sunnnnny” on his mobile. The contrasts caused much amusement.
A wealth of art
Ramgarh, Mukundgarh, Fatehpur, along with Nawalgarh, are lesser known because of lack of tourist infrastructure, but the wealth of art and architecture is abundant here. Walking the streets through either of them, havelis, one realises, stand for a way of life. They are there row after row, as sad sentinels of an era that was as bright and colourful as the colours on their walls. The local population is slowly slipping into oblivion about the vastness of treasures they possess and what they can turn their small villages into with thoughtful usage, restoration and planning. It’s painful to see adverts painted on the ground level walls of these havelis in grossly loud greens and blues — now, that is a culture shock!
Seth Ram Gopal’s chatris in Ramgarh, in spite of being 250 years old, are a monument that can not be lauded enough. Workmanship in form, structure, design, embellishment is unparalleled. The themes may be recurrent but they don’t fail to mesmerise — compositions in their floral forms and historical details reveal aesthetic sensibilities of great reckoning.
We discovered a Shani Maharaj temple, walking over a huge mass of garbage dumped in the middle of a non-descript lane. Made by Sagarmal Khemka from Calcutta, the temple left me open-mouthed. Mirrors used on walls with frescoes interlaced with such sophisticated delicacy drew me magnetically towards the sanctum. I bowed and prayed but my neck was tilted up thereafter just to let the magic of the past seep in, the horrors of King Vikramaditya’s arms cut off, working as a teli because he ignored Lord Shani, grand court scenes, Lord Shiva and Parvati on their thrones, Krishna playing Holi with bursts of pink clouds in the sky — each scene had a story to tell or a myth to arrest the mind.
Fact file
Nawalgarh is 100 km from Jaipur. Dundlod is seven km from Nawalgarh and Ramgarh an hour and a half’s drive from Nawalgarh.
The Heritage on Wheels train (metre gauge) traverses the uncharted regions of Shekhawati.
Places to stay: At Nawalgarh, the Hotel Roop Niwas Palace and Hotel Apani Dhani.
Traveller tips: explore as much on foot once you’re at the destination.
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