Sunday, February 13, 2000		Lead Article

Maharajas: An exquisite legacy

The Indian princes’ greatest contribution to posterity is a valuable legacy which has vastly enriched the culture and development of the country, says Sharada Dwivedi.

A FRENCH traveller, Louis Rousselet, was once privileged to view some of the famous jewels belonging to the Maharaja Gaekwar of Baroda in the 1860s. ‘The servants laid out this dazzling collection on the tables and chairs; and it certainly was the most beautiful that could be imagined in the way of precious stones — streams of diamonds, diadems, necklaces, rings, bracelets, costumes and mantles embroidered with pearls and precious stones of marvellous richness,’ he wrote. ‘Conspicuous among these jewels, was a necklace which the Rajah had lately had made, in which sparkled the famous "Star of the South", the "Star of Dresden" and other diamonds of remarkable size; probably the richest necklace in the world. The Guicowar (Khanderao) came in and found me admiring a magnificent Hindoo costume. The coat, the pantaloons, and the scarf were of black silk, covered with delicate embroidery in pearls, rubies and emeralds; the shoes, the epaulettes, and the turban glittered with diamonds. I assured the King that I had never seen anything so beautiful, even in the Exhibitions of Paris and London.’

His personal wealth in gold alone was once calculated at about thirty million pounds with about the same value apportioned to his jewels.

The mountains of gold and silver kept in an underground cellar, had primarily been amassed through the many gifts he received as nazar at his durbars. On one occasion after his state finally became part of the Indian Union, the Government of India found itself in urgent need of funds. The Nizam agreed to give the government a loan. Gold sovereigns and silver bars were brought from Hyderabad to Bombay by a special train in which the royal treasure entirely filled two railway wagons!

Amongst other rulers who owned magnificent jewellery were the Maharajas of Jaipur, Gwalior, Kashmir, Baroda, Indore, Patiala and Jodhpur. Jewellery was made and bought not only for the ruler himself, but also for his wives, daughters and other relations.

The deities in his temples had special jewellery as did his ceremonial elephants, camels and horses and in one instance — that of the strange Nawab of Junagadh — for adorning his pet dogs.

The Nawab kept his canines in the lap of luxury and celebrated their birthdays and weddings in grand style. It was said that his devotion to the species resulted from an unforgettable incident when a dog saved his life from the poison of a cobra’s fangs.

With the Westernisation of royal lifestyle came the cultivation of graces considered essential for meeting Anglo-India on an even footing. The Indian Princes learnt Western music and ballroom dancing and some, like the Maharajas of Kapurthala and Patiala, even maintained excellent orchestras conducted by Europeans. Yet it must be said that it was in the realm of Indian music and dancing that they made one of the greatest contributions to the preservation of Indian culture through their patronage.

At the time of the Muslim conquests, Indian classical music had already evolved as a highly developed art form. Royal patronage had always been afforded not only to court poets and musicians who sang odes in praise of their rulers and composed ragas or musical modes to express the dignity and splendour of their courts, but also to the dancers whose art had been nurtured and perfected in the many temples scattered all over the subcontinent.

The Muslims brought with them their own music and dance which further enriched these highly developed indigenous art forms. New vocal modes were fused with old ones and Indian music benefited extensively by the introduction of new instruments such as the sarod, sitar, rabab and shehnai. It was this great heritage and dance that the Maharajas helped to preserve through their patronage. During the British Raj, the Indian States, in fact, became virtual repositories for the conservation of these art forms.

Nautch girls and singing courtesans were invited to perform at durbars on special days. Musicians were employed on a full-time basis or were invited from other parts of the country and were amply rewarded to perform on occasions such as the ruler’s birthday and on festivals. Patronage of individual artists apart, a number of states founded and ran institutions for the performing arts and were instrumental in establishing many schools of music known as gharanas, such as those of Rampur, Patiala, Maihar, Indore, Gwalior, Jaipur and Baroda.

Royal patronage also extended into the realms of the plastic arts and crafts — embroidery, weaving, woodcarving, inlay work, as also painting and sculpture, all of which were required for the maintenance of the court and palaces. Several states had a department called the karkhana, which employed talented carpenters, blacksmiths, silversmiths, goldsmiths, potters or embroiderers, who supplied the routine needs of the palace. Many of these handicraft traditions, too, were preserved for posterity as a result of being nurtured through sponsorship by the ruler. Even a small state like Sawantwadi near Goa, had specialists called jindgaars in the state karkhana (workshops) who made saddles and excelled in the art of gold embroidery.

Some courts encouraged learning and scholarship; others maintained enviable libraries. Still others developed cuisine almost into an art form, with specialist chefs catering for lavish banquets held on festive and religious occasions, birthdays and marriages, and during state visits from one ruler to another. Catering for a few hundred guests was almost standard, whether the food was served in traditional Indian thalis (metal plates with raised sides) or in European style. Two states in particular, Hyderabad and Rampur, were renowned for their Mughal cuisine and cooks, while others like Patiala, Kapurthala and Indore were famous for European fare. The late Nawab Hamid Ali Khan of Rampur was said to have had over three hundred cooks in his employ. Each specialised in preparing one particular type of dish: kaliyapas, for instance, only prepared curries; pakwanwallas only made breads and fried dishes.

But alas, these are all tales from a bygone era, very much like the stories that began with ‘Ek tha Raja — unlike their fairy-tale endings, the Indian Maharajas did not live happily ever after. The independence of India in 1947 saw the beginning of the end with the accession of the princely states to the Union of India or Pakistan (which followed about a year later with their merger or integration with the Indian states). Seeing the writing on the wall, some Maharajas wisely provided for alternate means of sustenance.

Several rulers, and particularly those of larger states that had a higher privy purse, set up trusts for the maintenance of dependents and employees and for the establishment of institutions of research, education, health care and social welfare. Prominent among these were the Gangajali Fund of Gwalior, the Hari-Tara Fund of Jammu and Kashmir, a number of trusts set up in Bikaner and Hyderabad and the Mewar Foundation established by the Maharana of Udaipur. Several Princes, on the other hand began selling their assets such as palaces, jewellery, objets d’art, furniture, paintings or vintage cars to channelise these funds into a variety of businesses. Others with educational qualifications, took jobs as managers in industries or joined the diplomatic service. Still others opted to become politicians and stood for elections. There were also those who believed in a commitment to preserving the specialised arts and crafts of their states.

Their enchanted world ended altogether and was relegated to the pages of history when the princely order was abolished by Government decree almost three decades ago. In what was considered an astute populist move, the ruling Congress party passed a resolution in 1967 seeking abolition of the princely purses and privileges. Following the failure of protracted negotiations between representatives of the Maharajas and the Government in December 1970, a two-day debate commenced in Parliament to consider a Bill to amend the Constitution by the omission of Articles 291 and 362 pertaining to privy purses and privileges.

After the Bill was narrowly passed with a two-thirds majority in the Lok Sabha but defeated by just one vote in the Rajya Sabha, a Cabinet decision was taken to de-recognise the Maharajas through a Presidential Order, which was hastily signed on December 22. The Princes took the matter to the Supreme Court which declared the order ultra vires. The reprieve was brief; in December 1972, a new government speedily re-introduced and passed the Constitution Amendment Bill.

The abolition resulted in extreme trauma among many of the Princes, despite the fact that several members of their order had foreseen the eventuality of the abolition. As Nawab Iqbal Mohammed Khan of Palanpur perceived, "Historically it was inevitable. The states were each like a large tree. After the accession of the states, the tree lost its roots and it was just a question of time before it toppled. The political propaganda against the Princes at the time of the abolition was extremely successful and the Princes were unable to put their case forward in a proper perspective, particularly since their contribution or sacrifice had been forgotten in the intervening decades.’

Today, among the survivors of the Order, although you may chance upon an outstanding administrator, politician, diplomat or social worker, or perhaps an adept cricketer, marksman or polo player, the majority has joined the mainstream of India’s population, preoccupied with the cares of daily living. There was perhaps some poetic justice in the undemocratic decree that sealed their destinies. In today’s jet age of nuclear power, computers and the electronic media, the Maharajas would have been an anachronism, particularly so in a democracy. For members of the erstwhile royal families, looking back with nostalgia can be a pleasurable but unfruitful exercise. Those that have moved with the times have contributed substantially to the development of their former states and in the larger context, their country.

It would be unjust to either evaluate or make generalisations about the former royal states, primarily because of their wide diversity. Each deserves to be individually assessed by ruler, state, region or dynasty. As one former Maharaja remarks, ‘It depends on who write the history. During the Raj Indian history books were written from the British point of view. During the post-Independence decades the Princes were unfairly judged by the standard of a few black sheep. Fifty years after independence, people have perhaps realised that the ailments of this country cannot all be blamed on princely rule.’

It may be said, however, that in their wake, the Indian Princes’ greatest contribution to posterity is a valuable legacy which has vastly enriched the culture and development of the country.

This heritage is in evidence today in dams and canals, in educational institutions and libraries founded by the Princes; in art galleries and museums, in architecture, in wildlife sanctuaries and zoological parks; in classical music and dance and in exotic cuisine; on the playing field, in splendid palaces and palace hotels, were the discerning visitor can still savour the graciousness of times past.

(Excerpted from: The Maharaja & the Princely States of India by Sharada Dwivedi, pages 156, published by Lustre Press, Roli Books.)