Maharajas, once the very apex of the Indian pyramid, are now officially extinct; their titles, power, and privileges stripped by Indira Gandhi in 1971. However, in the regions they once ruled, their name and prestige still has a presence. At the time of accession to the Indian Republic there were 565 kingdoms, each with its Maharaja, Nawab, or Raja. Old timers are often nostalgic about the days when they held sway. Maharajas inevitably came in all sizes, shapes and temperaments, and some were undoubtedly lazy, vain, spendthrift, dissolute, and occasionally plain wicked. But by and large, they (and their Maharanis) were benevolent, accessible and hands-on; knowledgeable about their people and their needs, in a way a remote, impersonal Central Government can seldom be.
Because of their huge wealth and lavish lifestyles, they could afford their eccentricities. Sadly, they are often remembered only for this. For example, the last Nawab of Junagarh is generally remembered for his love of dogs (he had 2000 of them and arranged elaborate and expensive weddings and funerals for them), but few recall that he was also a conservationist who banned the hunting of wildlife and set up the Gir Forests Reserve (accorded sanctuary status in 1965) in 1913, enabling the increase of the lion population from 15 to their present 500.
Similarly, the Maharaja of Alwar is more known for buying all the cars in the Rolls Royce London showroom and converting them into garbage trucks in revenge for the insolent way the sales manager treated him, than for his erudition and oratory, and the dams and irrigation canals he built for the rural farming community. Another prime example is the Nizam of Hyderabad who has gone down in history as a miser who even stitched his own shoes and caps. Yes, he led a simple, austere life but he spent his huge fortune on schools, colleges and universities, as well as health, dams, banking, and the state’s infrastructure. He was a pioneer of women’s education. He also gave 14,000 acres of his personal land to Vinoba Bhave for distribution to landless farmers, banned cow slaughter and donated huge sums to temples and gurdwaras as well as mosques, plus 5,000 kilos of gold to the Indian Army.
Sreelata Menon’s book, Fascinating Maharajas of India: Twenty-Five Princely States and Their Extraordinary Stories rectifies some of this, bringing alive these figures of the past for a new generation.
Writing books for children is an art. An art that is difficult to get right. Writing in simple, accessible yet engaging prose. Especially if what you are writing is fact not fiction. How to strike that balance between simple, engaging prose and getting your information right? Inevitably each chapter of Sreelata Menon’s book, covering over a millennium of history in just a few pages, becomes a roll-call of names, titles, dates, battles and achievements, with a few fun anecdotes to leaven the mix. Sreelata tries to make the book more appealing to younger readers by mixing in colloquial, chatty phrases, often more suited to Billy Bunter yarns than royal history. Here is a random selection: ‘ruled the roost’, ‘many moons later’, ‘set up shop’, ‘lock, stock and barrel’, ‘smart and canny’, ‘on the prowl’, ‘How come?’, ‘So then’, ‘Who cares?’, ‘muddled along for a while’, ‘matters became hunky-dory’, ‘sitting pretty’, ‘taking the cake’, ‘on a roll’. People ‘tuck into splendid banquets’, crowds always ‘mill’, elephants are always ‘majestic’, while fireworks ‘dazzle’…
These rather cliched idioms don’t always fit the subject matter. For instance, to describe the 1947-48 Indo-Pakistan War as us giving ‘Pakistan a bloody nose and sending them packing’ is a rather casual dismissal of a year-long conflict with over 2500 fatalities that set a tragic pattern for repeated hostilities over the years. Similarly, describing the Government of India laying claim to the Nizam’s priceless jewels as ‘taking first dibs’ is equally offhand!
Disappointingly, the look and feel of the book also belies its almost ` 500 price tag. Puffin Books, part of the Penguin imprint, used to have eye-catching, lively covers and a glossy tactile format and finish. Handling and collecting them was such a pleasure for children. This one looks like a NCERT textbook. Luckily its contents and illustrations are more appealing.
Luckily too, the book is full of interesting stories, many unknown to the general public. People who have heard about the Gwalior silver toy train bearing dishes round the regal dining table don’t know that the Scindias pioneered an actual train system and even aviation, that much of the wealth of Bikaner came from the palace’s bushels of bat droppings sold as guano fertilizer, or that Baroda was the third largest hatchery of dinosaurs 6 million years ago, or that the ruler of Nabha, traversing the city’s roads in his custom-made silver car in the shape of a swan, spitting out water and laying gold eggs in the path of his subjects, was also eclectic and liberal, building temples and mosques as well as gurudwaras. I myself was unaware that Bharatpur, now a tranquil bird sanctuary, once captured Delhi under Suraj Mal, and was one of the wealthiest kingdoms in India. In Bhopal, successive generations of ruling Begums were warriors and sportswomen, as well as wise and progressive rulers. There are stories of great valour, loyalty and sacrifice too: Mehrangarh Fort was built on the remains of Rajaram Meghwal who volunteered to be buried alive to avert the curse placed on it.
Rulers alternated between enlightened patrons of art and charities, and spendthrifts who spent the state coffers on golden cars and cannons. So Malhar Rao of Baroda was a profligate but Sayaji Rao III promoted the arts, education, banking; made child marriage illegal and primary education free, developed the railways and a navy. Enlightened Maharaja Pratap Singh of Jaipur was succeeded by spendthrift Sawai Jagat Singh, who wanted to gift half his kingdom to his nautch girls.
However, most Indian rulers were generally caring of their people, irrespective of their community and religion. In Cochin, Jews, Christians, and Arab Muslims were all welcome, and the first mosque in india was built there in the actual lifetime of Prophet Mohammed. Travelling to the West frequently as they did, Indian Royals brought back progressive and liberal ideas, abolishing child marriage, supporting the remarriage of widows and universal education, creating legislative assemblies. Ronald Ross, who won the Nobel Prize in 1902 for his pioneering work on Malaria, did his scientific research in Hyderabad, supported by Nizam Asaf Jah VI.
Just as the Muslim Nizams built numerous temples and funded the restoration of ancient religious sites such as Ajanta and Ellora, the Hindu Gaekwads were equally supportive of their Muslim populace and their beliefs. In fact, the famous Baroda Pearl carpet, nine feet long, made of deerskin, silk and embellished with pearls, rubies, diamonds and emeralds was originally commissioned by Khanda Rao Gaekwad the Second in the 1870s as a gift for Prophet Mohammed’s Tomb at Medina. This was typical of the secular, all-embracing outlook of most Indian rulers. In fact, Jodhpur under Hanwant Singh, initially wanted to align with Pakistan!
We should not forget that the foundations of modern India—secular, liberal, progressive, with its network of schools, colleges, hospitals, roads, railways, dams, and charitable institutions, were built originally by these autocratic, all powerful, but also far-sighted and compassionate kings. Their stories and their legacies should live on.
Dynastic absolute rule has no place in the twenty-first century. However, there are still Maharajas and Nawabs in our midst, though officially not recognized. They run hotels in their magnificent palaces, head charities, sponsor art and culture, enter politics, are much in demand as Patrons and Chief Guests. Their delicious cuisines, stunning costumes, and cultured patronage continue to inspire our contemporary lifestyles. As should the stories of their ancestors told in this well timed, much needed book.