Who would have thought that much of today’s corporate wealth originated from a little-known Rajasthani principality near the Pakistan border? The only comparable concentration of riches was in Bombay in the 19th century, where the Parsi merchant princes returned their immense resources to the city of their birth to create India’s financial capital. The Birlas and Poddars, Goenkas and Ruias, Bajajs and Singhanias, on the other hand, fanned out from the small dusty towns of Shekhawati all over India to build their fortunes, leaving their erstwhile homes in a sad state of dereliction and neglect, a pity since the architecture is so distinctive. A mix of the Rajput and Mughal traditions, such lavishly painted haveli s are to be found nowhere else. With the Marwari diaspora, this unique decorative style became an identity marker. The interiors of their temples, covered with religious and floral motifs and arabesques, contrasted starkly with the austere Mughal-derived architecture of other migrant trading communities.
How can this priceless heritage be saved? This is the subject of Marg’s new issue edited by the award-winning conservation architect Abha Narain Lambah, who introduces the book brilliantly and concludes it with a chapter on the challenges of conservation. A political history fills us in with colourful background: how the region got its name from King Shekha whose father got a male heir after being blessed by a Sheikh; how King Raisal saved the life of Prince Salim and was rewarded by Akbar with extended territories and how, as the Mughal Empire collapsed, the East India Company gained ground.
The focus is on the murals that, apart from their aesthetic appeal, reflect these historical and social changes. Religious themes, particularly Vaishnavite, are dominant, and Vishnu’s 10 avatars, sometimes expanded to 24, are major motifs with Krishna and Rama outnumbering all others. Jesus and local deities such as Gugaji and Pabuji are less common. In an imaginative rendering of the climactic scene from the Mahabharata , Krishna and Arjuna in their chariot are depicted confronting Ajaibgulmari, a strange composite beast symbolising the latter’s dilemma.
The Mughal influence is evident in 18th century paintings. There are exotic animals in the Jahangiri tradition, blackbuck, strange birds, a rhinoceros; and quaint Persian-style angels in long robes and hats. In the 19th century, when Shekhawati became a British protectorate and political stability brought prosperity, the newly rich bania s turned to European realism. Three-dimensional effects are introduced with perspective and shading, and later the impact of photography is felt in the art of portraiture. We find also a progression in transport, from the early bullock carts, horses and elephants to trains, and then to cars, the ultimate luxury at the time. A spiffy train straight out of wonderland with domed white compartments, royal blue wheels and matching engine chugs its way across a wall in the Goenka haveli .
The folksy charm of the murals with their vivid colours and minute detailing is splendidly brought out in the illustrations. Ilay Cooper covers the various techniques and pigments used to achieve these effects While exteriors exposed to the weather carried crude pictures in cheap paint, no expense was spared in colouring the interiors using red lead, lapis lazuli, silver and gold leaf and bright Indian yellow made from the urine of cows fed on mango leaves.
In an erudite essay, Jyotindra Jain describes an art form of whose existence one was previously unaware, Shekhawati collages showing Indian religious and mythical figures against European backgrounds. This odd juxtaposition reflects the ambivalence of their wealthy patrons who moved between the opposing milieus of their familial-religious origins and the Westernised urban culture to which they aspired.
Radha and Krishna cut out from Indian prints are pasted on to a variety of backgrounds: listening to a gramophone in an art deco setting or performing the Krishnalila against the print of a landscape by an American artist. The most incongruously appealing is a German print titled ‘Winter Night’ with the Indian participants wearing light summer clothing. The moon rides high in a cloud-grey sky casting a silver sheen on the snow-covered rooftops as Krishna dallies with a woman while Ram and Sita look on in prim disapproval.
Moving with the times, the later collages remain Vaishnavite but reject Western prints in favour of nationalistic themes. Subhas Chandra Bose in army uniform surrounded by portraits of other freedom fighters offers his bleeding head on a platter to Mother India as Krishna looks on; Krishna is pasted on to a Nathdwara painting of Akbar’s mausoleum thus Hinduising a Muslim monument; and Gandhi is being blessed by Rama. Nehru, in a collage dated 1929, is depicted as Kalki, the 10th avatar of Vishnu. Both ride spirited horses, and Kalki brandishes a sword to save the world while Nehru, saviour of India, holds a flag aloft. The last two pastiches have formal backgrounds painted by local artists.
Hordes of tourists now visit Shekhawati and the haveli s are being adapted and reused as hotels, which — Lamba concludes — is the only way of saving them. The merchant princes should also work to preserve their splendid cultural legacy before it is irretrievably lost.
Shekhawati: Havelis of the Merchant Princes; Ed. Abha Narain Lamba, Marg Foundation, Rs.2,800.
