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On the banks of the Narmada river in Madhya Pradesh, change is afoot. Spearheading it is Richard Holkar, known by some as the Prince and by others as Richard, and a far from typical example of India's erstwhile aristocracy. For a start he is half American through his mother. Secondly, one of his ancestors is worshipped as a goddess, and thirdly he now dedicates himself to improving the fortunes of his family’s former capital - Maheshwar.

It is over 30 years since Indira Gandhi stripped the maharajas of their titles and privileges, but Holkar clearly retains a strong element of paternalism which he combines with business acumen. The results are multiplying: a restored fort and palace, a thriving craft business, a host of social benefits and a spectacular annual festival of music and dance. What lies beyond Holkar’s control, however, are the potential effects of the massive Narmada Dam project.

Some 25 years ago this sleepy little riverside town and its magnificent 18th century fort were close to ruin - both literal and economic. The traditional handweaving industry was practically dead and bats had moved into the derelict palace. Only eccentric sadhus (holy men) found their way there to make offerings at the 90 odd temples and shrines along the legendary ghats of the sacred Narmada river. There was a good reason for this, as with Hindu mythology pointing to no less a river source than Lord Siva’s body, it thus ranked number two after the Ganges. Big-spenders and investors were unfortunately immune to such kudos - Maheshwar was well off their radar.

Now in his late 50s, ‘the Prince’ has led an unusual life. After a childhood spent in a palace in Indore, this second-in-line (his elder sister came first) went to Stanford University before settling in the south of France with his American wife, Sally, and their two children. It seemed he had turned his back on his royal past apart from co-authoring a book with Sally, “The Cooking of the Maharajahs” and the occasional visit to Maheshwar. Today all that has changed as, together with his new partner, Pamela, Holkar is entirely focussed on raising the town’s profile and now divides his time between Ahilya Fort and Delhi.

“We need to maintain the authenticity of the place - both in town and in the fort” explains this tall, willowy man dressed in a traditional Indian kurta. “We’ve set up a partnership to achieve this which is really a consultant body of sympathetic friends. I’ve kept away from politics - but I need to make people aware.”

So how did his epiphany happen? It all comes down to the weft and the warp. Holkar’s first step to regenerate the town followed a visit in the late 1970s when he and Sally were approached by out-of-work weavers desperate for help. The result was Rehwa, a handweaving company that now exports to the USA, Australia, the UK and Spain. Not only this, there is healthy competition between Rehwa-trained weavers who operate independently and the mother company itself. Prices are a lot higher than the Indian average but the subtle colours, designs and lustre of the Maheshwari silk-cotton mix make them highly sought after on the domestic market.

Just behind the workshop stands a more recent affiliated project, the Ahilya School, where 240 pupils study subjects as diverse as computing, yoga, English and of course weaving. Here, with a teacher-pupil ratio of an enviable 20 to one, discipline seems far from being an issue. Neatly dressed in uniforms, the children sit cross-legged on mats, at desks or file back to their classrooms after a healthy free meal in the playground. It is a far cry from the ragged tribal children in outlying villages, some of whom exist on a diet of chapati, chillis, salt and local toddy and rarely see a classroom.

Fluent in Hindi, English and French, Holkar communicates easily, his mind leaping from new Indian wines to the imminent marriage of his daughter, then to the future of his Maheshwar concerns. “At the moment Rehwa funds the school although pupils pay a nominal amount” he explains. “We started with no fees at all but that was stupid - people don’t appreciate it. The weaving side was profitable right from the start but competition is growing and we have to remain ahead of the market, so we need to reinvest. Ultimately I want to separate the two. The school will become a trust functioning on donations and the weaving a purely commercial business.”

From the school, a few steps through a lofty gateway lead to the Wada palace itself, the hub of Holkar’s empire, although he has occasionally to forfeit his four-room apartment to accommodate surplus guests. Just a few years ago it was derelict, and Holkar called in India’s National Trust. Today its intimately scaled structures are perfect for what seems like a permanent house-party. More like a rambling villa than a 250-year old palace built in Maratha style, the low, whitewashed buildings overlook verdant terraces and courtyards shaded by neem and frangipani trees. Endless twists and turns past cascading bougainvillea invite hotel-guests to lose their way or revel in stunning views over the Narmada river. Gourmet meals are served al fresco and each guest-room - including two large tents - is different.

Even more striking is the open, democratic feel to the palace which stems from a constant flow of people visiting the Rajgaddi, the “Queen’s temple”. This throws up an unexpected contrast: barefoot, turbanned Indians clutching staffs and bundles cross paths with chic Western guests en route to the pool. So it is illuminating to hear about the palace’s foundation from the hotel manager, Shailender Singh. “The fort ramparts date from the Mughal emperor Akbar but it was Queen Ahilya Bai who actually built the palace 200 years later, in 1766. She was remarkable in so many ways - despite being a devout Hindu, for example, she believed in equality with Muslims. And she also upheld native rights. That’s why people come to worship her statue.”

In fact all Maheshwar is identified with the philanthropic Ahilya Bai (see box), and her deified status is yet another of the town’s unique selling-points. Holkar’s spirit of enterprise thus comes as no surprise. As for the hotel which opened four years ago, he is adamant about preserving its scale. “My interest is to keep it like a home for friends to come and stay - the fact that there are only 14 rooms means I can interact with guests. I want them to appreciate the unique nature of the place.” When he oversees a dinner under the stars, presides over a sithar concert in the candlelit temple or hands out gin-and-tonics on a moonlight boat-trip amid hundreds of oil-lamps bobbing on the water - then you realise that Maheshwar and its self-appointed saviour are indeed special.

There is, however, a shadow looming over the Narmada, namely the controversial plan to build 30 large dams along the 1300-km river, making it second in scale to China’s Three Gorges Dam Project. Although this will provide much-needed electricity (Ahilya Fort suffers power-cuts nightly), drinking and irrigation water for local villagers, it has been loudly opposed. Activists who include Arundhati Roy (author of the prize-winning “God of Small Things”), cite the massive environmental and social impact on an estimated one million displaced people. Even the World Bank pulled out of the project in the early 1990s. Semi-literate dalits (untouchables) and adivasis (tribal people) make up 60% of those likely to be displaced and their lack of education leaves them powerless in the face of corruption and missing compensation money. All that can be hoped is that somehow, between the inimitable Holkar touch and Siva, Maheshwar will emerge intact and, hopefully, even stronger.

Queen Ahilya Bai Her framed image dangles from souvenir stalls in Maheshwar’s main street while the life-size statue inside the Queen’s temple of the palace sees a steady stream of pilgrims. Over 200 hundred years after her death, Ahilya Bai is revered like a goddess - the Princess Diana of India.

This “people’s queen” was so concerned by her subjects’ well-being that she allegedly ordered her despotic and unpopular son to be trampled by elephants. Deeply committed to social justice, she was also responsible for founding the Maheshwari sari tradition. Her belief in equality between Muslims and Hindus endures, as 17 tombs of Muslim mazar (holy men) on the ramparts of Ahilya Fort are looked after by Hindu priests - a rarity in today’s India where clashes between the two communities flare up regularly.

Ahilya Bai’s belief in Siva transmuted into her perception of Indore as ‘a state of God’ and of the Holkars’ role as mere administrators. To this day the ghats of Maheshwar are lined with shrines, temples and symbolic Sivalingams (the phallic symbol for Siva), permanent witnesses to morning and evening worship of the sacred Narmada river.

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