Palace of Clouds

by Rajyashree Kumari Bikaner

  The three invincible ladies, Rajmata Gayatri Devi of Jaipur, Rajdadisa Badan Kunwar of Jodhpur and my grandmother held very similar views; they were passionately anti-Congress and espoused the cause of the Swatantra Party and the Jan Sangh with full vigour. The local politicians of Bikaner or netas regularly paid visits to Laxmi Niwas where grandmother resided, and where she was readily available for consultation. The way she interacted with them was quite quaint—she would sit in one room and ‘her visitors’ in an adjacent room, and conversed through the open door but there was no face to face contact between them, despite that there used to be animated and heated discussions. Hospitable to a fault, all visitors to Laxmi Niwas who called on her were served tea and hot snacks. Grandmother’s kitchen seemed to run all through the day, as there was a steady stream of men and women who came daily to her wing of the palace, to seek her advice or pay a social call on her or simply to pay their respects, and all were made welcome. Grandmother was an austere person both in her demeanour, lifestyle and the way she dressed. She used to sit upright at all times and favoured wearing loose cotton shirt and trousers or ‘kurta pyjama,’ much like those worn by Indian politicians today; she rarely wore a sari unless on the few occasions she was attending a public function, and her grey hair was worn in a simple plait that came down to her back. She was more arresting than attractive and at all times retained a regal poise and demeanour. I always found her sitting in her favourite chair and smoking one of her endless Marlboro cigarettes, several packets of which were to be readily found lying in neat stacks on the table by her chair. My father maintained her style of living and household exactly the same way as it was when my grandfather had been alive, and although the States had been merged in 1947 and circumstances were very different, my grandmother came to Bikaner as a young bride when her father in law Maharaja Ganga Singh was the absolute Maharaja of Bikaner her life continued in the same calm fashion., She was used to a certain style of living which was comfortable, but by no means ostentatious.

  Grandmother had brought from her maternal home in Rewa many members of staff of both sexes, who had since then married into families in Bikaner and in most cases, had large families of their own. My father had gifted his mother a large plot of land very close to the palace which is called the ‘Nora’ and she in turn, had gifted quarters and open land to many members of her staff who, over a period of time, built their homes there, though most of them continued to live in the palace with her. Some of the old ladies such as Dukhna Nani and Phuphu were real characters: they only spoke the local dialect of Rewa which we barely understood, but were very sweet and loving to us when we went to visit Dadisa. Dukhna Nani used to break into a little jig every time she saw us to signify, I presume, how happy she was to see us. Naturally we thought this very amusing. Dadisa took great interest in the education of their children and if anyone was sick she would make sure they got the best possible medical attention. Leela, one of her younger maids, had a little daughter called Aruna who I think was around the same age as I was at the time. Most times when we called on grandmother to pay our respects, I would find Aruna perched on grandmother’s lap. I did not like that and wondered at her cheek to be so bold. Having never been invited to sit on my grandmother’s lap, I was of course, jealous.

  For reasons that will eternally remain a mystery to me, my mother was not on the best of terms with her mother- in- law; my father, on the other hand, was devoted to his mother and cried like a little child when she died; whenever he was in Bikaner he used to invariably have at least one meal of the day with his mother, – and in most cases it was lunch, as he preferred to dine with my mother in the evenings. The frostiness that existed between my mother and grandmother translated into us not being allowed to visit her very frequently and as and when we did, we were not allowed to stay there long. This was a great pity as we were not able to get to know her well. To her credit, grandmother never criticised my mother to me or my siblings and I have a great deal of respect for her positive attitude.

  Grandmother was a highly intelligent and well-informed woman. Despite many years in Bikaner, she used to speak the local Rewa dialect, partly Hindi and partly local words, which were quite endearing. She always spoke to us in Hindi, although she often lapsed into her own mother tongue when conversing with my father; thus he was better able to understand it than us. She used to call my father ‘Badkau’, which simply meant the older of the two brothers. My father and his siblings already had a set of childhood nicknames given to them by their nanny Mrs. Ethel May Dent: my aunt Princess Sushil Kanwar was called ‘Baisa’ and my father ‘Bosaab’ and my uncle Maharaj Kumar Amar Singh the youngest was ‘Bunny’. The word ‘Bosaab’ was a corruption of the word ‘Bhanwar saab’ which is a common form of address in Rajasthan for all grandsons whose grandfather is still living. My mother adopted Nanny Dent’s nickname and always called my father ‘Bosaab’ as well.

  My father was first elected to the Lok Sabha in 1952 and remained a member for twenty-five years. My grandmother was the guiding light behind his political activities. On polling day a large station wagon was ordered and every single member of her staff eligible to vote was gathered together and sent off in batches to cast their vote for my father, unlike my mother who not only never voted herself, but never allowed even a single member of her female staff to vote either. I recall my father trying in vain to explain to her that she should permit them, as every single vote counted in an election but to no avail. I believe the first time that my mother ever cast her vote was in 2008 when my niece Siddhi Kumari stood in the Assembly elections from the BJP from the Bikaner East constituency. When my father won the election, there was great celebration and sweets and rum used to be distributed to all those who came to congratulate grandmother.

  Grandmother was a very private person and did not feel the need to discuss her feelings or problems with anyone— she was quite self-contained and zen-like that way. She often discussed religion and philosophy with learned men and scholars who used to visit Bikaner. Everyone considered her a well-informed and intelligent woman. Ladies of that generation were reserved as far as showing affection was concerned and she certainly was not one to shower hugs and cuddles on her grandchildren, but in her own quiet way, she was quite fond of us all. Once she gave me, a charming miniature tricycle made of silver with fully movable parts, which I loved very much. It has a treasured place among my possessions even today.

  Grandmother and I only got to know each other reasonably well when I was a teenager, by which time I was quite independent and what my mother’s opinions were about grandmother played little or no significant role in my thinking. I used to go and sit with her when she was painting. She loved to paint and had created a cosy little space on the baradari or the terrace; she would sit on the floor and paint for hours on end. Her style of painting was like those of the impressionists; my father, on the other hand, favoured modern art. He often encouraged his mother to break out of her mould and start abstract painting—a suggestion that she resolutely refused to comply with and continued her soft landscapes and pleasing seascapes. We talked about politics and what was happening in my life at the time. I never heard her gossip or criticise any family member. Once when I was about to go to Bombay for our annual summer holiday, she asked me if I could bring her back a particular type of fan-shaped brush from the big artist supply shops in Bombay. It was the only time that she ever asked me to get her something. I found the brush that she wanted and took it back for her.

  Grandmother never believed in complaining about her health: she had a fairly sturdy constitution and winter or summer, took only cold water showers, a practise that is now considered to be extremely beneficial for one’s health. She loved self-medicating (a habit inherited by my father) and ran a little private dispensary of her own for her staff as well whom she treated with simple remedies. Once my father drove grandmother and me to Jodhpur and on the way back my father joked about one member of her staff whom she had medicated (the man had
apparently died of heart trouble later). My father teased her that he had died due to her medical ministrations. Grandmother was most indignant and protested strongly, much to our amusement, that she had in fact, merely given him some Soda mint which was a mild and perfectly harmless indigestion remedy.

  The idea of starting a dedicated college for girls was first mooted by my grandfather Maharaja Sadul Singh in 1944, and on the completion of the first year of his accession he announced on 2 February, 1944 through an Extraordinary Gazette notification that in order to supplement the educational facilities already existing in the state, an intermediate college for women be started. The college was named after my grandmother Maharani Sudershana Kumari College for Women. The opening ceremony of the college was performed by my grandmother on 7 September 1946 and Mrs. R.K. Suri was appointed as its first Principal.

  Dadisa took an active interest in the activities of the College and on several occasions we all went with grandmother to watch a theatrical production performed by the students of the college. Today, the college is a thriving institute of education and is affiliated with the Maharaja Ganga Singhji University in Bikaner; annually, thousands of capable ladies graduate from this college and go forth to take up their rightful places in jobs and vocations they have chosen for themselves.

  My ‘Nanosa’ or maternal grandfather was the Maharawal of Dungarpur, who succeeded to the ‘gaddi’ of his forefathers at a tender age of ten after his father’s demise in 1918. Due to his being a minor, a Regency council was appointed to look after the affairs of the State. He was the son of Maharawal Bijey Singh and Maharani Devendra Kanwar of Dungarpur. Nanosa was a noble and gracious man; he was very tall and in later life, became slightly stooped in his bearing, but at all times he was extremely dignified. Grandparents in days of yore did not believe in open displays of affection within the family; there were no hugs or cuddles for any of his grandchildren. In fact, I cannot even recall a single pat on the head; however, whenever we met him, he was always affectionate and sweet in his speech when he spoke to us, as though we were little adults.

  Nanosa’s father had died at a very young age and left his mother a young widow with four young children to look after. She was a formidable lady, undaunted by the cruelties of Fate, she ensured that her three boys were given the best possible education that was available at the time; as a result, they all went on to attain very high posts in their respective lives. Nanosa’s only sister who was later married to the Maharaja of Wankaner, was an extremely well- read and intelligent lady due to the broadmindedness and foresight of her mother.

  My Nanosa, like most Princes, looked up to my great grandfather Maharaja Ganga Singh, and as a young man had sought guidance from him. In turn, Maharaja Ganga Singh treated the young Lakshman Singh as his protégé. In the years to come, this special bond between the two men was to lead to the marriage not only of my parents but also my mother’s eldest brother Mahipal Singh who was married to my father’s first cousin Dev Kanwar. Nanosa had great respect for the Bikaner family; both he and my maternal grandmother, Nanisa, looked upon the three of us as children who belonged to the House of Bikaner and the great grandchildren of Maharaja Ganga Singh and not merely their daughter’s children. There was an air of formality that existed at all times and was rigidly maintained. Perhaps, that was also the way they were brought up at the time.

  Every time Nanosa came to visit Bikaner (which was not very often), he stayed in Room Number Five in Laxmi Niwas and whenever we trooped off to pay our respects to him, he always stood up when we entered the room even though we were little girls at the time and greeted us thus: ‘Come, Bhanejbai’ or ‘Welcome! Daughter of my daughter!’ That is what both my maternal grandparents called me, never by my name or nick names. I recently found one of Nanosa’s letters to me dated 23 October, 1980 in which he visited Sadul Museum in Bikaner and graciously took the time to write and compliment me on having helped in setting it up:

  ‘‘I had the privilege of visiting Bikaner on the occasion of the birth centenary of the late Maharaja Ganga Singhji Bahadur, the maker of modern Bikaner. Your illustrious father kindly took me round the Lallgarh Palace and showed the Museum that has been so well arranged, primarily as a result of your initiative and hard work. I was happy and fascinated to see the various exhibits and can well imagine that with you it has been a labour of love. May I congratulate you warmly on your laudable effort? This fine institution will remain a glorious monument to the history of your illustrious house and its redoubtable sovereign the late Maharaja Ganga Singhji’s fame, name and glory.’’

  This was a huge compliment indeed and I was enormously pleased and encouraged by his kind words.

  Nanosa was a dedicated politician and belonged to the Swatantra Party, from 1952 to 1958 and was also the MP for Aspur in the Upper House of Parliament the Rajya Sabha and thereafter the President of the Swatantra Party till 1969. From 1977 till 1979 my grandfather was the speaker of the Rajasthan Vidhan Sabha assembly and was also appointed the Leader of the Opposition, a post he held from 1962 to 1979. His name appeared regularly in the newspapers and there was talk that he would be the next Chief Minister of Rajasthan. My father and he both shared an interest in the politics of Rajasthan and often met in Jaipur and conferred on current affairs.

  Once, during a protest that had taken place in Jaipur by the Opposition, my Nanosa was arrested along with some others. Soon after his release he had come to Delhi for talks with the party. When in Delhi, he always stayed at the Ambassador Hotel. My parents went to pay their respects to him and I tagged along. My father was also a politician in the Opposition, and as they chatted, I hid behind my father and peeked out at Nanosa to see what Nanosa looked like after coming out of prison. He spotted me and said, ‘I know why you have come to see me—it is out of curiosity, since I have been to jail.’ Although I denied this vehemently, it was true and very perceptive of him to have observed and deduced that as at that age I thought that only the extremely wicked and notorious went to prison and it was hard to imagine my patrician grandfather in either category.

  Much later, after I was married and living in London and my Nanisa had passed away, Nanosa and I would grow close to each other—it began with an exchange of Christmas cards and went on to regular letters that we used to write to each other from time to time. He was prompt in his replies and it was good fun to correspond with him. He invariably, in each letter, invited me to visit Dungarpur. Strangely even though it was my maternal home, I had only been there once in my life when I was all of six months old and my father had flown us there in his private plane. At that time my children were in full time schooling and the only time we had off when the weather in India was good was the Christmas holidays and we would go straight to Bikaner and there was very little time to visit other cities. Sadly, despite his many invitations, I was not able to visit Dungarpur before he died.

  Nanosa, like most princes of his generation, was a keen hunter and both he and my grandfather Maharaja Sadul Singh visited each other regularly to shoot tigers and panthers in Dungarpur and grouse and wild boar in Bikaner. Every year, both the grandfathers went on wildlife safaris to Africa, though not at the same time of course. Those were the days when animals and birdlife was abundant. They went fully equipped with their guns and ammunition and a number of staff accompanied them. In Africa, they met up with the ‘white hunter’ who then took them on the safari. They had a fixed list of animals they wanted to shoot, there was no random killing, and then off they went into the wilds and roughed it out for several weeks. The trophies were then duly photographed and brought back to India and sent off to the Dutch taxidermist firm called VanInghen and VanInghen, who then prepared them according to the instructions given.

  Both my grandfathers from Bikaner and Dungarpur thoroughly enjoyed their annual outing to Africa—it allowed them some leisure time away from the cares and worries of their respective states back home. Nanosa once wrote to me in 1980 to say, ‘I am not planning a trip to Africa this
year. I have shot almost everything that I wanted to and there is little to improve upon what I have by way of trophies. I am sure if and when you go to Africa with your family you will enjoy your safari with a camera, specially watching baby elephants and young Impala playing around their mothers.’ I loved the bit about him having shot everything!

  Once, when my daughter Anupama who was of the generation that believed in protecting and not killing animals, met Nanosa, I was quite taken aback to hear her ask him boldly, ‘Why do you shoot animals? It’s not a very nice thing to do.’ With great patience he looked at her from his lofty height and asked her, ‘Why are you eating that ice cream cone in your hand?’ She replied that it was because she liked ice cream. ‘I like hunting,’ he responded. I quickly brought an end to the conversation before we had a debate on the merits or otherwise of hunting between great grandfather and his little great granddaughter!

  I wish that I had known him better and was able to spend more time with him as an adult, but it was not to be. He had a fine mind and was very knowledgeable. I also wish that I was able to visit Dungarpur when he was alive. I am sure that seeing my maternal home through his eyes would have been an interesting experience. Though retired from active politics, he continued till the end to be a much respected figure among all the politicians in Rajasthan. I recall he once told me ‘bhanejbai no one is indispensible’ and he was so right it would be just as well to keep this at the back of one’s mind to root out self importance and pomposity.