Shekhawati: Rajasthan’s open-air art gallery
Published in: Go-getter, June 2010
Driving into Jhunjhunu one sunny morning, we come across Raju Guide at the busy
intersection where we stop for directions. Raju recites a list of „sight-seeing‟ options and
proceeds to take over our lives for the rest of the day. He demurs when we discuss
money – he is happy with “whatever we pay from our hearts”. Raju says he adopted that
name since he wanted to be the “sabse best guide of India” - a tribute to Dev Anand‟s
character in the Hindi film „Guide‟ (mild alarm bells are going off in my head,
considering how that character finally turned out in the movie but I am raring to go
haveli-hopping and ignore those). He begins our guided tour by declaring, “We get a lot
of tourists but most of them are foreigners”.
I remember then the surprised look on the face of the shopkeeper from whom we had
bought water bottles earlier that day. “What are you doing here?”, his bemused
expression said, as he took in our eager faces, guidebooks and car parked under the tree
with driver in tow. I find all this a tad strange – I had been expecting the area to be
teeming with tourists, given that guidebooks proudly refer to the region as the „open-air
art gallery‟ of India‟. I mull over this as we walk through the narrow lanes, awkwardly
negotiating cows and camels and playing children, Raju ahead of us with a quick,
confident stride.
Ishwardas Modi haveli, our first stop, is an excellent introduction to the famed frescoes
of the region and the havelis (mansions) that shelter them. The themes on the walls
range all the way from marching British troops to playful Lord Krishna and his friends.
As we step out, the watchman points to the visitors register – Germans, French, a few
Americans, someone all the way from Tanzania, even a couple of Japanese and the
quintessential travelling Israelis – and in those two long pages open in front of me, I can
see only one other Indian name and begin to understand my guide‟s earlier remark.
While it is true that over three hundred thousand Indians enter this little town every
year, their tracks stop at the Rani Sati temple. Raju is keen that we visit this temple next
– how can we come all the way and not offer prayers to the Sati mata – but we will have
none of it. After that initial insistence, I am surprised that he gives in without a fight and
I soon know why. He is taking us to the Bihariji temple. No temples, as we begin to
protest again, he holds his hand up in a conciliatory gesture and sings praises of the
paintings inside the temple. His claim is reinforced by the signboard on the gate which
says that some of the finest artwork of the region is to be found inside. However, this too
is not to be - the pujari has gone away for his Sunday siesta, locking the doors behind
him. After all that build-up, we are disappointed to have missed it, but evidently the
gods (and their attendants) need to rest too.
Our good guide then shepherds us towards the other havelis which are in good
condition, scattered between the ones in disrepair. Mid-way through this tour, my
husband pales at the mention of more mansions („frescophobia‟, he dubs it) and we
make a quick detour to Khetri Mahal. Raju refers to this as the „palace of winds‟; is this a
distant relation of the one in Jaipur? He is indignant at the question – Khetri Mahal, he
says, was built long (over 30 years) before the Jaipur Hawa Mahal and was in fact, the
inspiration for its more famous cousin. We walk up the narrow winding ramp, ignoring
the smell of bats hanging from the dark ceiling, through the various levels to the top,
startling the hawks and kites that have made it their base. There is a strong breeze on
the terrace despite the heat of the day and the view is spectacular, all the way to the
brown hills in the distance.
However great the view, however clever the structure of this mahal, it is the painted
havelis that are the highlight of Shekhawati and we head to the next one. The fresco
work of the region is fascinating, colourful, some of it even slightly bizarre. At Saraf
haveli, two images vie for our attention – one of the Wright brothers making their first
trip up into the air, looking very tiny and unsure in their brown European coats. And the
other, right next to it is a prince on horseback, flowing pink silk robes and all, attacking
a tiger with a spear. The caption under the first says udne wala jahaj (flying machine)
while the second is self explanatory and therefore carries no title. Elsewhere, there is a
car of unknown shape and make, a woman near a gramophone, and across havelis are
images of various men in bowler hats, some twirling their bushy moustaches, some
content to just be clean-shaven Englishmen. And everywhere, scattered in between, are
plenty of Indian gods and goddesses; Krishna the lover-thief-cowboy-god is especially
popular since he lends himself amicably to several representations - here, he is sitting on
top of a tree, a herd of cows gazing up in adoration and there, he is frolicking with the
gopis inebriated by the sound of his music, and dancing the eternal dance of life (and
love) with him.
Built mostly in the nineteenth century, these havelis are the property of the local
business-trading community, the Marwaris. It is not just the frescoes that are
spectacular but the havelis themselves, with their graceful archways, ornate windows
and large courtyards with separate space for the womenfolk. In a way, it was part of
their commitment to give back to the community they had left in search of money and
fame in the larger cities of Delhi and Kolkata. Over time, the larger the haveli, the higher
rose the prestige of the owner – and the more elaborate the frescoes and murals, ditto.
According to Raju, Ishwardas Modi haveli in Jhunjhunu where we started our frescotour from had 365 windows, and I have heard of one with over a thousand. Additionally,
the women who were left behind in these havelis had more colour around them to make
up for the absence of colour in their surroundings and perhaps, lives too.
As for the somewhat weird cacophony of images, they were representative of the
changing times. My guess is that the owners and the artists themselves must have
started safe with those images that were familiar and even considered essential - gods
and goddesses and other mythological themes. At the same time, somewhere out there
in the world, someone had found a way to fly. The nouveau-riche travelled to England
and other parts of Europe and brought back with them images of snow-covered
mountains and gondolas and motor cars, all of which were faithfully translated on to the
walls and ceilings of their homes by craftsmen rich in artistry and richer in imagination.
Cars and airplanes were painted by men who had never seen one in their lives; for that
matter, had any of them seen the gods they reproduced on these walls? Closer home, for
these men with a sharp business sense, it was imperative to please the Englishmen
whose approving nod held the key to their success. So on went the images of bowlerhatted and brown-suited Englishmen, and ladies in their stiff evening gowns and
delicate parasols.
The technique used in painting these frescoes is the Italian method of fresco-buono
dating back to the 14th century. The artists etched the design on the walls with sharp
sticks and painted on the wet plaster using natural vegetable and plant dyes mixed in
lime water. The colours set naturally along with the wet plaster, thus sealing the mural
from the harsh weather conditions.
However, it is a pity that there was no method discovered then - or even now - of
protection from damage caused by human interference and equally, neglect. At
neighbouring Mandawa for instance, where we go next, many havelis are in a state of
ruin. Seeing our disappointment, Raju takes us to the Jhunjhunwala haveli where we
enter the mansion through a low, narrow gate. This, we are told, used to be the entry for
the servants and traders while the owner himself strode in regally through the large
gate. The caretaker‟s eyes take on a gleam at the sight of new visitors while he decides
mentally on how much to charge us. We agree on fifty rupees and enter the „gold room‟.
And what a treat for fifty rupees!
Records say that over three kilos of gold foil has gone into the murals adorning the walls
and ceilings of this room alone – although how much of it survives is anyone‟s guess. We
spend over half an hour in this tiny room staring at the frescoes laced with gold foil,
made all the more beautiful by the faint sunlight streaming in through the coloured cutglass set on all window and door tops. I even manage to shut out the wheedling voice of
the caretaker who is now trying to sell us picture postcards of the havelis.
The good news for Shekhawati is that there are increasing conservation efforts from
absentee owners who have taken an interest in their ancestral property and spent time
and money in restoring their old homes to their original condition. Most notable of
these efforts is the Podar Haveli in Nawalgarh, where apart from the restored frescoes,
assorted artefacts have been thrown in together to attract visitors. And a few have gone
the hotel way – in the manner of several other heritage properties in India - as in case of
the fabulous Castle Mandawa or Piramal Haveli (managed by the Neemrana chain).
And so, Shekhawati - the garden of the Shekhas - is today walking a tightrope between
the interest of a few discerning visitors and the indifference of a majority of the locals.
These painted walls of Shekhawati that have survived the extreme temperatures of the
whimsical desert country, the furious heat of the days and bitter cold of the nights
endure, quietly fighting their own colourful battles.
To appreciate the captivating charm of the colours of the region, read Ilay Cooper‟s „The
Painted Towns of Shekhawati‟ or the coffee-table book „Rajasthan : The Painted Walls of
Shekhawati‟ by Wacziarg and Nath, who "discovered and fell everlastingly in love with
this open-air art gallery way back in 1977". Having spent just a day there, I can
understand why.
Travel information
Getting there and around: The nearest airport for the Shekhawati region is Jaipur
just over 150 km / 3 hours drive away. The main towns are also easily accessed from
Delhi, 225 km /4 hours away. You need 3-4 days minimum to explore the region at
leisure and it is best to base yourself in one of the larger towns and cover one or two
towns in detail each day. You need a car and driver to get around Shekhawati.
Sight-seeing: The must-see towns in the region are Jhunjhunu, Mandawa, Nawalgarh,
Mukundgarh and Dundlod, all located close to each other and believed to have some of
the finest frescoes. Find a good guide to take you around, since locals are not always
aware of the treasures in their own town, and even maps may not serve you well enough
through the narrow and forgotten roads. It is best to travel in the cooler months or go
thoroughly prepared to cope with the desert heat in other seasons.
Stay: To get the best Shekhawati experience, stay at one of the premium heritage hotels
like Castle Mandawa, Piramal Haveli or the Surajgarh Fort. The ApniDhani eco-lodge in
Nawalgarh has good reviews. There are also lower budget options available in the larger
towns like the Shekhawati Heritage hotel in Jhunjhunu.