The practical royalty

Meghna Maiti

Mumbai

The afternoon light, as in a theatre, drew a translucent chiffon purdah around the Mewar palace in Udaipur. The royal territory---including the heritage hotels, restaurants, boutique shops, museum and art galleries that pulled a number of tourists wore a deserted look. Dust swirled over the palace courtyard and a fiery wind heralded something intense and desirous as the aroma of barbecued meat, Mewari kebabs wafted through the air. The colossal heritage building stood like a streak of lightning in the burning inferno and drove the pigeons from its open terraces to the safety of their nests. Thousands of bats hovered over Lake Pichola and the floating palaces, encircling a hilltop fortress and then flying away into the horizon.

As the tour guide to the palace museum rambled on about Shriji Arvind Singh Mewar, the 76^th custodian of the Mewar dynasty, the air was filled with a web of magic and mystery. Listening to the tales of Shriji’s royal upbringing, achievements and success as a modern-age entrepreneur, my journey to the heritage hotel---Shiv Niwas---seemed like the common gateway to two different worlds of the glorious past and the mundane present---unbound by space-time continuum.

Amidst all this, entered the man himself. To take us on a tour of the museum and art gallery. Resplendent in stately attire, complete with a sword by the side, his aristocratic appearance gave him the air of a true ruler---the imperial beard, the broad forehead, the acquiline nose----quite identical, in fact, to the portraits and paintings around us. There was Maharana Kumbha, seated with courtiers, watching a nautch girl perform. “He was an erudite man, an authority on grammar, deeply learned and personally accomplished, as keen on the development of artistic excellence as any Medici,” said the museum guide.

When I spotted an old lady chasing a handsome young boy, I yelled maniacally, “Oh that’s Panna dai, isn’t it?” Shriji nodded and flashed a smile. Yes, she was the foster mother of the young king---Udai—the one who sacrificed her real son’s life to save the king from the attack of the cruel Banveer.

Soon after, we saw Maharana Pratap--- he was instantly recognisable with his noble, striking appearance and uncommonly large eyes which he inherited from Maharana Kumbha.

Shortly, as we moved into a dark, empty zone, I could hear the swish of a skirt and the jingle of anklets. A turn to the right and I spotted a goddess-like creature---Padmini---Maharana Ratan Singh’s queen, known to be a lady of pure, unsullied beauty. She smiled in a coy manner and covered her face with a red veil.

As we neared the end of our tour, we realised the hot breeze that had built its sandcastle in the air, suddenly, as if on a whim, collapsed and disappeared. It was 7 pm, time for a boatride to Jagmandir, named after the erstwhile king, Maharana Jagat Singh. The place that once served as a summer resort and pleasure palace for royal parties was now the venue for celebrity wedding parties such as Liz Hurley’s, Raveena Tandon’s and a countless other stars and celebs.

 Soon it was time for the inauguration of the Zenana Mahal--a collection of musical instruments that was now open to the public. The Mewars said they were also planning to open some more galleries featuring costumes and  sculpture. The royal family was slowly showcasing all their resources to the public in order to generate funds for the upkeep of their heritage properties.

By now, the evening was mild and cool with a gentle, balmy wind. After the inauguration ceremony, the palace officials informed me that Shriji was now ready for an exclusive interaction with me, or should I say “audience” in keeping with the regal spirit of things. 

My mind had painted its impression of the aged custodian from our brief interaction during the museum tour. A man of regal birth and bearing, a true aristocrat in his turban and silk robes. Yet when I spoke with Shriji, I saw a man from the dry depths of the desert soil, with a distinct earthy identity. When I said how overwhelmed I was by the presence of a real king, he laughed it off saying: “Those days are long gone. Now I am only a businessman.” As to all my romantic illusions regarding royalty and its charmed way of life, he brushed them aside, saying: “You see, the past is beautiful. But one has to live in the real world. For us now, business is more important. Even Facebook is important. We are trying to promote our hotel chains through tools like that. By the way, are you on Facebook?”

“The royal families are not left with any powers now. We have money but no wealth,” he went on. “There are positive vibrations in the palace. The stories of its rich past will be told numerous times---the stories of Maharana Pratap, Panna dai, Maharana Kumbha, Padmini Devi---to educate and attract tourists. You will find those in books, in light and sound shows in the palace,” he said.

The “audience” over, the “king” moved on. As I sipped my palace-blend infusion tea in the sunset lounge of Shiv Niwas, I could see Lake Pichola, the candle-lit floating palaces, beyond that silhouette of the black hills and  twinkling lights from Monsoon Palace atop a hill looked so dreamlike. It seemed as if nothing in the world was more beautiful than this royal interlude and the sight around me of people singing, dancing, eating, all to the soft sound of the sarangi. It was then that I knew that if it wasn’t for the heat, I would have missed the grand spectacle of the Mewar dynasty!

ENDS