Palace of Clouds

by Rajyashree Kumari Bikaner

  My father left behind a long and highly complicated will which was drafted for him by his solicitor Mr Nariman Maneksha who was based in Bombay. Mr. Mankesha was an elderly Parsi gentleman, he was thin to the point of being cadaverous and was slightly stooped in his bearing and wore rimless spectacles. He was every inch the lawyer and loved getting into the micro management of every point or discussion. Over the course of the next few years, while he was dealing with the issue of probate, and other formalities to do with the Estate of my late father, we had to enter into lengthy correspondence with him. I am convinced that if an insomniac read one of his letters, which were long and rambling and repetitive before bed time, they would be assured of deep slumber that night without the use of any medication!

  In his will, my father appointed five executors; they were to be my mother, myself, and three others including Mr Maneksha. In due course, after the twelve days of mourning were over, Mr Maneksha arrived in Bikaner to read the will and deal with the formalities of obtaining probate. It was decided that we would all meet in the living room of Shiv Villas where he would open the Will and read the general contents to us. I must confess that in hind sight it was a bit of an Agatha Christie moment where all the suspects are gathered together for the final pronouncement of the culprit! Finally he formally read the contents to the assembled family and some of the executors who were present at the time. My brother was a volatile personality and certain subjects sent him into a terrible temper, most particularly with any reference to assets and bequests given to his estranged wife and their three children. My father had made special provisions in his will for my brother’s eldest daughter, Daksha, who had been unwell from the time she was three years old and was on extensive and constant medication and needed repeated surgeries.

  My father wanted to ensure that she would never want for anything in her life, and instead of appreciating this noble sentiment, it irritated my brother who then threw a terrible tantrum and left in a huff much to the shock of Mr. Manekshaw. I realised then, that it was going to be an extremely rocky road ahead for those of us who were acting as executors of the will to give effect to the various bequests to the many family members and the Trusts. We decided that Mr Maneksha would apply for probate in the Bombay High Court and he meanwhile asked us to compile an inventory of all the articles and furniture that my father owned. This herculean task was entrusted to Thakur Anand Singh and Thakur Dalip Singh, who after almost six months of hard slog, finally prepared the inventory.

  My father over a period of time had created six important public and charitable Trusts in Bikaner. He was one of the very few princes who decided to vest the family properties in a public charitable trust: in most cases the princely families formed companies and held their properties privately. In the late sixties and early seventies a very major problem arose as the Urban Land Ceiling Act was on the anvil and it was not known as to how much land the government would allow each citizen to hold. Secondly, and more importantly, the abolition of the Privy Purse immediately resulted in the ending of the exemption given by the central government to the rulers from income tax and wealth tax on one palace, in the case of Bikaner it was Lallgarh Palace. Had wealth tax become applicable on Lallgarh Palace and with the Privy Purse halted, it would have been impossible to maintain the portion which now comes under the Trust. A quick decision was taken after consulting the family and senior staff and the conclusion was that several Trusts must be created. The corpus of the Maharaja Ganga Singhji Trust was created by transferring the immovable properties being part of the land and buildings of Lallgarh Palace complex.

  The Maharaja Ganga Singhji Trust was founded by my father on 12 March,1972 for public charitable purposes and ‘for providing socio-cultural activities and for activities to promote the development and progress of the areas comprising the former Bikaner state (Churu, Sri Ganganagar and Bikaner districts), with a desire to serve the people of these areas and with a view to promote cultural, educational and medical, sports and other facilities; to provide for the poor and needy; and for national integration and international understanding.’

  To augment the income of the Trust, there was a provision in the Trust deed that the Trustees would have the power to convert any Trust property into a hotel. Therefore, a hotel was started by the Trust as far back as 1974, in the Sadul Niwas and Karni Niwas wings of the Lallgarh palace. Upon his death, in his will, the entire palace was vested in the Trust with rights of residence to various family members. His intention was that ‘rulership’ after his death would be vested in the Trust which was the owner of this magnificent Palace. He even gave the Trust the right to fly the Bikaner state flag and use the Bikaner state crest.

  The second major Trust was The Maharaja Rai Singhji Trust, which this was created in 1961 for public charitable purposes and for providing education, medical and sports development and also for human relief purposes for the citizens of Bikaner. The corpus of the Trust was created by transferring the immovable properties, which were the land and buildings of the old Junagarh Fort in Bikaner. My father named the Trust after his ancestor Raja Rai Singh, who was the founder of the of Junagarh fort.

  Controlling the trusts was the thorny issue amongst the family members. Until his demise, my father had been the Chairperson of all six trusts. However, he had added the proviso in the trust deed that bearing in mind the modern times we were living in, the next Chairperson would be elected by a majority vote. These Trusts had the capacity of working for the greater good for the citizens of Bikaner and for the upkeep and maintenance of the heritage properties that were now desperately in need of repair and refurbishment: equally if there was no firm guidance there was great scope for mismanagement as well. There were glaring loopholes that could be exploited by those who were ruthless enough to do so. Finally after many years of internal arguments and altercation the issue of the Bikaner Trusts were resolved in a satisfactory manner.

  The stress and strain of the various events in our lives over the past few years was having an adverse effect on us all. Our marriage was crumbling at the same time as these acrimonious events unfolded back home in Bikaner. We had simply drifted apart and as most middle aged couples found that apart from our children we had very little left in common. By that time my daughter Anupama was married to a young business man and was living in Jaipur and our son Sajjan was just about to finish his schooling. Things were simply not working out and we finally decided that for the greater good of everyone in the family particularly our two children it was best to divorce and move on with our lives. Our almost twenty three year old marriage was brought to an end in 1996, it was very sad for us all but in the long term it was best for all concerned parties. It seemed that even in divorce court we were in exclusive company with the Duke of Duchess of York obtaining their decree just before us and shortly thereafter followed by Prince Charles and Princess Diana. The family home in Hampstead was sold shortly after and MJ and I moved off in different directions.

  * * *

  With Lord Mountbatten of Burma on a visit to his country home Broadlands.

  8

  ‘Happiness is as elusive as a butterfly, and you must never pursue it, if you stay very still, it might come and settle on your hand. But only briefly, savour those precious moments, for they will not come your way very often.’

  -Ruskin Bond

  A

  fter the dust had settled in the wake of my divorce and our home in Hampstead was put on sale I had to consider the next step in my life and decide where I would relocate and what I was going to do next. For obvious reasons I was not in the best frame of mind but decisions simply had to be taken and I did not have the luxury of pausing for too long and taking stock. All my friends very wisely urged me to move closer to town after the sale of my house, but I refused. Almost overnight my whole life as I had known it since 1973 had come crashing down like a ton of bricks around me and I was in desperate need to cling on to something that was known and familiar. To uproot myself physically fro
m an area that I was familiar with, my dentist, my GP, Brent Cross shopping mall, and the heath and parks was one change too many. Keeping this in mind, I instead opted for a house in Golders Green which was not too far from our former home in Hampstead but was still in North West London.

  A large number of Jewish families are settled in Golders Green. The orthodox Jewish families have their homes structured internally to suit their many orthodox beliefs. The house that I was going to buy also belonged to one such Jewish family; they normally have two kitchens if they have the space, adjacent to each other, as in their faith they are not permitted to mix dairy products with meat of any kind and so all their utensils and knives and cutlery and so forth have to be kept separate, and they maintain two sets of everything that is needed in the kitchen. They are not allowed to drink milk for several hours after they have eaten meat or fish of any kind. Food of course has to be kosher and there is a whole host of food items besides pork, such as prawns and certain shell fish that they are not allowed to eat. What was even more peculiar is that they have a designated room where part of the roof is open to the elements and has a plastic bubble built over it. This is to facilitate meals over their festival of Passover. I inherited one such bubble in my home which for me posed a very real security hazard since I was living alone, and one which I had removed as soon as I moved in.

  The festival of Passover is a very important, Biblically derived Jewish festival; they celebrate Passover in memory of their liberation over three thousand years ago from slavery in ancient Egypt during the time of the Pharaohs under the leadership of Moses. Passover usually falls around March or April. During the seven or eight days of the festival families gather together and eat their meals technically under the open sky just as their ancestors did in the wilderness when they fled Egypt. However, in North West London this is not often possible with modern homes and more specially the inhospitable British weather, so the compromise is the plastic bubble which can be removed, and thus enabling the family to conduct their Passover dinner under the open skies. In most of North West London, life slows down over the Sabbath. The Jewish Shabbat or Sabbath is one of the most important holidays in the Jewish calendar; to the Jewish community it represents a joyful celebration and well deserved rest. Even God took the seventh day off for rest after creating the world during the previous six days. In the Bible, Exodus 20.8 states: ‘Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.’ This is the part of the Bible where the 10 Commandments were presented to the Hebrews. The Sabbath begins at sundown on Friday and ends at sundown on Saturday. In Golders Green everything came to a standstill on Friday evening. Since the Jewish community is not permitted to drive on the Sabbath it was an ideal opportunity to get all ones the chores and errands done locally, as there was plenty of parking to be had.

  So strict are some families in regard to observing the Sabbath, that an estate agent who sold homes in that part of London once told me how he went to view a home for sale and found the television full on and blaring away in the corner. The man of the house requested him to please turn it off as he was not allowed to do so manually. They are not allowed to cook or to even turn the lights on at night; all of these are now set on timing devices that turn on and off—not only the electricity and central heating in the house but also the cookers, so that a hot meal can be prepared. I imagine that this kind of life style might be viewed as a bit of an anomaly in current times. However, it is an excellent idea for families to spend some restful time together at the end of a busy week. This practise is observed by Jewish families around the world and is not restricted to orthodox families alone.

  However, like all good things sometimes these practises and rituals are carried a bit too far. I was living on my own and I had a sensor light installed on my porch that switched itself on as and when anyone approached my front door for purposes of security. Neighbours on both sides were Jewish and one day one of them who happened to be a bereavement councillor for the Jewish community came over to me and said that the motion sensor light over my porch was catching members of her family approaching their front door and since they were not permitted to turn the lights on, if I would consider asking my builder to adjust my sensor slightly. I found this request quite hilarious but in the spirit of good neighbourliness decided to accommodate them. Another rather strange fact that I discovered was that orthodox Jewish women wore wigs over their own hair, I expect it was with the same reason that Muslim women cover their heads with a scarf or wear a hijab for the sake of modesty. On enquiring further I was informed that since a woman’s hair was her natural beauty and glory and that one sight of it was enough to inflame passion and lust in a man’s breast, they kept their natural hair covered.

  Whereas I can comprehend women wearing a scarf or a hijab, but wearing a wig over one’s own hair is a bit odd after all- how can anyone know whether the woman in question is wearing a wig or it’s her own natural hair? Despite all the quirky requirements and behaviour, the Jewish community are on the whole a friendly community to have as neighbours and it’s a safe neighbourhood with hardly any crime. They also made an effort to keep an eye on my house whenever I was travelling and whenever I asked for help it was readily given. My friends were quite amused with the neighbourhood that I was living in and jestingly called me their ‘Jewish Princess’.

  I had just moved into my new house in Golders Green with Champa Nani and at the time I had asked Thakur Dalip Singh to come to London and help me with the move from Hampstead and to settle me into my new home. This was sometime in the middle of August 1997. The house was left by its previous occupants in a sixties time warp and much work needed to be done. I had the house full of workmen and was temporarily living under siege in a guest room until the time my main bedroom was ready for occupation.

  At the time, Princess Diana and her summer romance with the Egyptian millionaire Dodi Fayed, was the front page news in every newspaper. Casual conversation with friends over lunch one day gravitated towards the Diana-Dodi affair, and not surprisingly, we all came to the conclusion that things were moving much too fast and we could almost feel that there was deep trouble lying ahead for her.

  On the morning of the 31 August, I turned on the BBC news as I normally did on awaking and was surprised to see the newscaster dressed sombrely in black. Someone important must have died I thought, and quite naturally my thoughts turned to the Queen Mother who was close to her hundredth birthday. Imagine my shock and horror when it was announced that it was Princess Diana who had died in a car crash in the early hours of the morning in Paris. I rushed out of my room and Nani and Dalip Singh were sitting in the kitchen talking in low voices: ‘Did you hear the news?’ I asked them. ‘Yes’ both spoke up in unison. ‘We have been listening to the events for quite some time now’, as they both woke up quite early in the morning. We were all in complete shock—Princess Diana, the controversial member of the British Royal family, so vibrant and beautiful, suddenly dead at the very young age of thirty-six. I doubt anyone could comprehend the enormity of the situation.

  The next few days passed in an absolute daze as the people of Britain mourned the passing of this young and charismatic princess as never before. It was not the usual stiff upper lip: for the first time the British population was wearing their hearts on their sleeve. Thousands of men women and children arrived at the gates of Kensington Palace and Buckingham Palace and placed a sea of flowers there, people cried openly in the streets and hugged and comforted each other. Once the condolence books were in place huge queues snaked their way along for miles, and people waited patiently to sign the book—it was surreal. A friend of mine, who happened to pass Kensington Palace in her taxi where huge crowds had gathered, happened to comment to the taxi driver that perhaps this kind of behaviour was rather an overreaction to the situation and she said that the taxi driver ticked her off in no uncertain terms. She was after all the people’s Princess, as the then British Prime Minister, Tony Blair had aptly put it, and the grief that people felt was perfectly
justified, and of course as we all know a London cabbie has his finger on the pulse of the nation and echoes the popular view point.

  Shortly thereafter, her funeral service took place at Westminster Abbey. The newspapers reported that the final resting place for the Princess would be the Spencer family home at Althorp House. It was clear that the hearse on its way from the Abbey to Northampton would have to pass the Hendon Way, and then on to the M1. My house was a few minutes’ walk away from the Hendon Way. Champa Nani, Dalip Singh and I watched the funeral ceremony on the television in complete silence. Dalip Singh and I decided to walk down to the Hendon Way as soon as the hearse drove off from Westminster Abbey in order to pay our respects. It would only take a few minutes since the traffic was tightly controlled all the way that morning. We briskly walked down and saw that people were slowly emerging from their homes and making their way to the Hendon Way. There was no traffic on the road, and we all stood silently on the central reservation. Within a few minutes, the hearse slowly and in a dignified manner drove past; people threw flowers as it passed by. It was extremely sad and touching-a young life extinguished so brutally. The outpouring of grief at the death of Princess Diana was truly unprecedented, and I doubt if we will ever see the likes of it ever again.

  I did not stay long at Golders Green. Champa Nani decided to retire after a life time of devoted service to me and my family, and the house was far too large for me to be living alone in and after three years I decided to move closer to central London as my friends had earlier suggested. I sold the house to another Jewish family who must have restored the plastic bubble on to the roof no sooner had I gone.