Gujarat by Devanshi Mody
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The French aristocracy is raving about Gujarat. Beats Rajasthan, they say. And snigger that if the English are still hooked on Rajasthan, “C’est parce que les Anglais ne savent pas mieux…” When the finicky aritos français profess a preference, you know they’re onto something.
Gujarat is GORGEOUS. But India’s economic power house has been too busy with oil, diamonds and industries to bother with tourism. After all, Mahatma Gandhi’s Gujarat also boasts 3 of the world’s 10 richest men, the brothers Ambani and Aziz Premji. But now Gujarat has realised they could hit jack pot.
“Vibrant Gujarat” is the slogan. Gujarat’s certainly colourful what with black magic performing maharanis, red hot gos about how Aravind Singh acquired Udaipur’s Lake Palace and purple predilections of Rajpipla’s Yuvraj, quizzed on Oprah for being the first Indian royal to frolic in gay abandon.
Sojourning at Gujarat’s palaces plunges you into a Romanesque world of racy royals passionate about polo, fast cars, horses, illegal hunting, illicit romances, rollicking royal bashes. Maids hide their faces when the Maharaja passes. Nothing has changed in centuries. Only, Indira Gandhi abolished titles and privy purses. The royals haven’t recovered from the earth-shattering shock. Never mind, regal protocol prevails as ever. I tell a yuvraj, “Your dad’s expecting me for lunch.” He’s aghast. One must address the Maharaja as “His Highness.” A recently crowned young maharaja even signs off his SMSs with “HH Maharaja…. of …”
Quirky live-in royals make Gujarat’s palaces more fun than Rajasthan’s palace hotels. “You can’t make a hotel out of a palace. You can only make a palace out of a palace,” Gujarati royals insist. Umaid Bhavan’s Gaj Singh II wouldn’t wait until midnight to receive and dine with you, but at Raj Mahal the Maharaja of Wadhwan will.
And he’s up early to breakfast with you. I’m late again. HH understands: It’s difficult getting out of the comfiest beds ever or the loveliest bathrooms with chandelier, chaise-longue et al. Over bhakris in the splendid dining room, my host reveals that Millfield was once the summer house his forefathers owned when studying at Oxford.
We then embark on a tour of the palace where Vogue did a shoot. This is the palace with a staggering wow factor. It has its own race track and astrologer. The regal room stuns with silver thrones, family portraits galore, crystal chandeliers and what not. Fifty Frenchmen were imported to paint the ceiling à la Versailles. HH’s ancestor opened a factory in Paris just to make velvet for the palace and subsequently destroyed the factory to ensure the exclusivity of his curtains!
Belgian mirrors make up the walls and ceilings of the prayer chamber. Charming suites abounding with art and antiques overlook a central courtyard with fountain. The Maharaja is selective about whom he receives. When you let people into your palace, you don’t want them walking away with your pet portrait or the Yuvrani’s wedding presents, which fill an entire room in the private chambers upstairs. It’s two years since the wedding, (during which 700 bottles of alcohol were drained in 7 days), but the yuvrani hasn’t got round to opening all her gifts. If you like prezzies, don’t wait for Christmas, marry a Maharaja.
Jam Sahib, Maharaja of Jamnagar, is the one to hook- if you can find him. The story goes that the whimsical royal invited a prime minister for lunch, then absconded to Mumbai leaving a picnic pack for the prime minister with a note saying, “Here’s the fish I promised. Sorry had to go to Bombay.” The legendary maharaja who has been called “a work of art” throws Gujarat’s most exuberant soirees when not retiring to the jungle, twiddling a beard longer than Rip’s. The charismatic, enigmatic, recluse royal with rampant palaces, at 70 remains Gujarat’s most eligible bachelor.
If he eludes, there’s dashing 25-year-old Kesari, Yuvraj of Wankaner. Back from England, he’s set to transform the Royal Oasis with courtyards, indoor pool and private step well, into the hottest thing around. The Residency, within the premises of the imposing hilltop Wankaner Palace, has rooms named after guests who’ve occupied them, including the Duke of Conneaut and Cartier.
A Must-Do is dining in the palace with the Cambridge educated Maharaja of Wankaner. Feast on a meal fit for a maharaja. But HH will have none of it. Food for thought is his thing. Preferably in French. Expect to chit chat in the chic langue. And if you’re very nice, he’ll show you the clandestine family vault displaying an astonishing collection of swords, regal paraphernalia, elephant and horse caparisons etc.
Then, Kesari shows me up to his rooms which sprawl over half the palace. His bathroom is bigger than most London flats. From his father’s quarters, he points to the Janana (harem) where his mother lives and from which he was extracted at 10 when his grandfather deemed him fit to join the big boys and for Raj Kumar College (the first Eton-style royal school that the British opened in India). Kesari further explains the peculiarities of Wankaner Palace’s Janana. His great grandfather cunningly ensured that the only entrance to the janana was through his chambers. This avoided any hanky panky…
But get naughty at Vijay Villas, a secluded royal hunting lodge. Ironically, a Thakurani educated by French nuns owns Gujarat’s niftiest love nest. Lock yourself away in ravishingly quaint suites with period furniture, jarukhas and richly adorned swings in private terraces overlooking the spectacular Palitana temples.
Très romantic too is Utelia Palace. Ample terraces offer sprawling views over a verdant oasis. The closest semblance to civilisation is the Harappan site Lothal. If you weary of the loved one, try horse safaris or picnic in wildlife sanctuaries. Thakurani sahiba serves Gujarat’s most gorgeous food but remains svelte herself, laughing, “God is kind to us. We can eat without getting fat.”
Bhavnagar’s glam young Maharani proves this. Hello! is doing an exclusive on Gujarat’s style icon who graces her majestic Nilambag Palace in sublime saris or sexy jeans, always jazzed up with stunning jewellery. Her charming uncle Jayendrasingji tips me over supper on princely penchants, “These Maharajas will trek 300 km for tea at another palace.” Forget other palaces and live it up like a maharaja at Gujarat’s best-selling palace.
For hip havelis try Ahmedabad’s House of MG. Everything in the inspired rooms is for sale, including the bed. And it’s gastronomic heights at their terrace-top restaurant Agashiye. This is kick-ass cuisine. Discover dhokla, rotla, khandvi, handvo. The all-veggie creations lure fashiandos you’d meet at a Paris Hermes party.
Party away on India’s only private beach where the Maharaja of Kutch offers cosy tents and Goan-style restaurant. Haply, no hippies with more tattoos than Angie J, here. The earthquake destroyed HH’s properties. He now only has three palaces, of which Mandvi Palace set in 700 acres frames the exclusive beach. Bollywood blockbusters Lagaan and another Aishwarya Rai-starrer were shot here.
Palace’s claim to fame includes gold and silver thrones, palanquins, howdahs… Splendid portraits of Nawabs include the last Nawab posing beside dogs sporting ruby and diamond necklaces. The puppet prince more interested in his poodles than politics was persuaded by his diwan, Benazir Bhutto’s grandfather, to ditch his palaces for Pakistan. Junagad languishes in abandon. But not for long: Vanity Fair is doing a vintage car shoot at its ravaged royal mausoleum.
Gondal Palace showcases 45 super vintage cars, most bought in 1947. Whilst everyone else was liberating the country, Mahahraja sahib was busy buying luxury cars. Nowlaka Palace’s library houses the Maharaja’s illustrious compositions and favourite reads: his book on Ayuruvedic medicine, his Gujarati dictionary (the only one ever compiled), Playboy Reader…
For a wild one head to Sasan Gir National Park, unique on earth for its Asiatic lions. At Yuvraj of Moulia’s Lion’s Club the waiter doubles up as safari guide… I saw more wildlife embellishing palace walls and splattered across their floors than in the sanctuary where leopard and lion hunts often turn into a wild goose chase.
Chasing Asia’s only wild asses in the Little Runn of Kutch is naughty. But the Malik of Dasada conceded on my insistence “to give them some exercise.” Extraordinary how they charge at 70 km/h. Fab too are the flamingo, desert foxes and wolves. After tea and tales at his cousin’s palace, we retire to Muzahid’s eco friendly resort recreating luxury indigenous huts, which Paris’s chi chi editors adore.
Gujarat is a dry state. So what if there’s no alcohol. Plenty of other highs. Like the dramatic 1000-year-old Palitana Jain temples. 3500 steps lead to 3000 hilltop temples containing 27,000 statues… Climb onto temple roofs to admire the astonishingly intricate architecture and mind-blowing views of opalescent lakes studded in lavish landscapes.
More astonishing still is a girl touching her head at each step. Others don’t eat or drink until they’ve climbed the hill 7 times. Great way to lose 5 kg in 2 days. Spiritual pinnacles abound. Take your pick, or your peak: Ambaji, Pavagad, Gir Nar whose 10,000 steps lead to breathtaking mountaintop temples and caves where saints have meditated. Monkeys watch placidly on, accustomed to a 1000 years of humanity.
Dwarka’s for sacred temples and scandalous sunsets. Its excavated submerged city matches flamboyant Lord Krishna’s kingdom described in the Mahabharata. Somnath’s once bejewelled 10th century temple was despoiled 17 times by Afghan Mohammed Ghazni who purloined camel loads of treasures.
Ghazni also struck the ancient Modera temple, one of India’s two sun temples, nicking a humungous diamond. This jewel lit up the temple during the equinoxes, highlighting extraordinarily carved pillars of poetry that immortalise in stone the Mahabharata, Ramayana and Kama Sutra. 108 shrines encrust this temple’s step well.
More fantastic still are the soon-to-be-declared World Heritage sites, the 1000-year-old Rani ki Vav and Adalaj step wells. Their intriguing architecture has been compared to the Pyramids. If Shah Jehan built the Taj Mahal for a Gujarati princess, a Nawab killed a Maharaja for his beautiful Hindu queen, lavishing 500,000 gold nuggets over 50 years to complete her Adalaj step well. Woo turned to woe once the mammoth construction was near completion: the queen flung herself in the well and the Nawab buried alive his architects to avoid duplication of this architectural marvel.
Don’t miss World Heritage site Champaner and Ahmedabad’s Jama Masjid, deemed the most imposing monument of its class.
Classy too is shopping chez Palanpuri diamantiers who hobnob with the world’s finest joailliers. Pick up cool Kutch handicraft (selling at obscene prices in London) and patola saris, woven using stupendously complex ancient techniques, taking 3 years to complete and costing £3000 minimum…
Gujarat is about fabric, festivities and festivals. The world famous kite festival has just finished. My driver insists, “Madamji MUST return for the Navaratri dance festival.” I’m pondering about nine nights of non-stop revelry.
Our charging car brakes. A peacock struts past casually. Driverji says Madamji must also stay to see peacocks dancing on emerald fields in the monsoons. Sounds delicious. Alas, I sigh there’s a whole world out there to be discovered. Driverji says India is a universe in itself. True that. I’d seen more in bit of Gujarat than in all Egypt.
Circe-like, India has spellbound me. I haven’t the guile of Ulysses to get away. Looks like I’ll be around for Navaratri. Driverji knows I will.