Why we should protect Khetri like a national treasure (2024)

Why we should protect Khetri like a national treasure (1)(NOTE: This article was originally published in the India Today issue dated October 14, 2024)

“You won’t be able to have lunch if you see these pictures”

—Supreme Court, January 18, 2023

“As a British citizen, it is inexplicable to me why the State would ruin the valuable heritage of its people”

—Lord Francis Baring Northbrook, member, Khetri Trust

When the Shekhawati winds blow through these pillared arches and niches now, they make a mocking sound. In 1770, when the ‘Wind Palace’ of Khetri was conceived, it was as a graceful jugalbandi between nature and culture. An idea good enough to be borro­wed—it was soon to become the prototype for Hawa Mahal, the staple of tourism brochures that’s emblematic of Jaipur, a hundred miles to the south, and indeed of Rajasthan’s entire architectural heritage. But the place of genesis now marks the spot of a suicide attempt. You could draw a circle in white chalk around Khetri and write, ‘This is where Heritage tried to kill itself.’ The Aravalli wilderness, dry and thorny, has long seeped into its palace gardens. The wind deposits bits of the desert in patios and hallways, scarr­ing dainty frescoes and mirror work. Lizard droppings and bird guano humble the proud portraits, now lying broken. Usually, such a textbook picture of decrepitude—of Time laying waste to human grandeur—comes to us as a tale of royal hubris. In this little godforsaken patch, however, the crime was committed by the entity that took over from the rajas: the State.

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No ordinary crime either. It was committed, in broad daylight, for a great part of 37 years. In 1987, upon the death of its last titular head, Raja Bahadur Sardar Singh, the Rajasthan government took possession of the half-a-dozen properties of the Khetri estate. Acting on a complaint that the estate manager and staff were carting away antiques by the truckloads, it invoked the Escheats law of 1956, the instrument of seizure used when a property has no heirs. Perhaps well-intentioned, but not entirely watertight in this case—there was a will, naming the charitable Khetri Trust as the sole heir, with about seven other self-styled heirs crowding the frame. More egregiously, the government proved far less enthusiastic about taking care of things as it was about taking possession of them. Because the dispossessed went to court, it chose not to spend a paisa on protecting Khetri’s heritage.

Not even on a basic lock and key, so to speak. Instead, it left it to the elements, a rich repast for insect and avian settlers, for pye-dogs and other stray fauna. It now looks like a set for horror movies: ant-hills, termite-eaten wood, putrefied carpets dotted by dog and pigeon carcasses. The pugmarks include human ones—soot-covered terraces recall the fire lit by bacchanalian revellers, graffiti grows like fungus on the walls, and the only cleaning was done by thieves and vandals who stripped these palaces bare. Amid the proliferating cobwebs, there lie the remains of continuous loot. Drawers and cabinets unburdened of their contents, empty miniature frames, walls vacated of trophies, swords and other antiques, all suspected to be sold in the open market. Three registers that recorded Khetri’s moveable assets in 1987, notably, are among the missing pieces.

Why we should protect Khetri like a national treasure (2)

All this time, displaying a gusto entirely absent on the ground, the state has cussedly refused to let go—despite the case finally turning a corner. In 2016, the Revenue Court Ajmer stayed the last decision in favour of the state: a collector’s order on Escheats. Soon, the Rajasthan High Court overturned a 2012 order that had endorsed the state’s recourse to Escheats. The state promptly went in appeal—but the climate of opinion in the Supreme Court has been none too favourable either. “We are shocked and amazed at the manner in which the State of Rajasthan has permitted its heritage to be destroyed!” said a three-judge bench on January 18, 2023. The apex court is now supervising restoration. It had already got the main case, on ownership, expedited in the Delhi High Court and that took a similar trajectory—in July 2023, again quashing a 2012 order, the HC upheld the Khetri Trust as the legal heir. A hearing on the state’s appeal against it is expected in November. Probate is the primary case—since it would settle ownership if upheld, the Escheats case would become infructuous anyway, especially after the state Revenue Board shut it down in 2023—so the SC has opted to fast-track that hearing. It has not stayed either order, and has signalled that it implies they stand, and that closure is imminent. But the state is not backing off just yet.

Lord Northbrook, a member of the House of Lords who’s the lone surviving executor of the will and also a trustee, is befuddled that “the State in India can litigate for 37 years to challenge the succession of its citizens. There is no precedence in the world where the courts will allow this”. Not so surprising in India, where the mood after Independence had by default been set against the past excesses of maharajas, and a general mistrust prevailed of private profiteers. In a country despoiled by colonial loot, antique smugglers were national villains and only the State was trusted. The ‘nationalisation’ of such assets would have been seen as democracy getting its back on royal hauteur. And at stake here was an estate estimated at Rs 2,500 crore.

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Khetri, a copper-rich plateau on Rajasthan’s northeast fringe, was perhaps the richest among the semi-autonomous thikanas around Jaipur. But its palaces hosted episodes that go beyond the usual Rajputana lore. First, there’s the not-so-minor Khetri detour of the Nehrus: it’s here that the family of Gangadhar Nehru, the last kotwal of Delhi, took refuge during the massacre that followed the 1857 uprising while fixing a new base in Agra. His son, Nandlal Nehru, rose from a teacher to be the diwan of Raja Fateh Singh for a decade. Younger brother Motilal spent some good childhood years here. Some strands of the present succession battle began upon Fateh Singh’s death in 1870, when Nandlal had the news concealed till he got nine-year-old Ajit Singh from nearby Alsisar adopted as heir to forestall a British takeover.

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An excellent choice, as it turned out. An “intuitive and intelligent sovereign” with interests in the arts, science and philosophy, Ajit’s encounter in 1891 with an erudite young monk was to become a chapter in history. Vivekananda was still Bibidishananda at that stage—it was during a second visit to Khetri, en route to the Parliament of the World’s Religions at Chicago, that he took on the name he’s famous by. On Ajit Singh’s suggestion. The raja, who sponsored Vivekananda’s Chicago trip and sent monthly support to his family, was no ordinary disciple-patron. The two, born just a year apart, struck up a bond profound enough for Vivekananda to write in 1898: “I consider you as my only friend in this life.” The swami had three stints in Khetri. He spent his days studying Patanjali’s Mahabhashya—and quotidian Rajasthani life. That trademark turban came from there. The king also died a year before the Vedan­tin, falling from a tower—in Vivekananda’s words, while “restoring some old architectural monument at Agra, at his own expense”. Ironically, his own Khetri now lies fallen into ruination.

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Not before decades touched by the usual royal distinctions. Three generations down, Sardar Singh’s life followed the classic arc of the literate elite—Cambridge, Middle Temple, Constituent Assembly, Rajya Sabha, ambassadorship at Laos. A childless divorcee who usually resided at the Khetri House in Delhi, he had a will executed in the city’s Tis Hazari court in 1985, two years before he died. All his moveable and immoveable properties—everything in Khetri, his Delhi residence, and another Khetri House in Jaipur’s Chandpole—went into a new entity, the Khetri Trust. Its rolling cast of trustees over the years featured the Delhi cognoscenti—Romesh Thapar, Romila Thapar, Tejbir Singh, Vikram Lal et al—and it fell upon them to engage in legal battle.

For, the Rajasthan government disputed the will’s bona fides. So did the swarm of self-proclaimed ‘cognates and agnates’—contemporary and next-generation kin—who had materialised out of the blue. Also, Delhi law mandated that wills registered in the city go through the tortuous process of being granted probate—that is, validated by court. Thus started an epic legal tangle that is now in its fourth decade—as sprawling and messy as the cobwebs at a Khetri palace. Cross-woven on that is the sorry tale of Khetri House at Jaipur. Once a three-star hotel (and part-residence), it has seen hell: shutters downed, encroachment, a devastating fire, forged sale of portions of it, elaborate thievery. One heist possibly lasted days—12-inch-thick walls of two iron safes, in two iron rooms, were sawn through with a gas-cutter. “All this while being in state possession!” rues Ajit Singh Shekhawat, ex-DGP, Rajasthan, and a trustee. Managing trustee Prithvi Raj Singh shows numerous letters to the government to allow inspection that went abegging.

But things are coming around. On August 17, goaded by a local court, Jaipur Police lodged an FIR against seven people for the alleged illegal sale and encroachment. Two days earlier, Gaj Singh, erstwhile maharaja of Jodhpur and chair of the trust, called on chief minister Bhajan Lal Sharma. They hope the change in government may presage a change of heart, but aren’t taking it for granted: on August 22, the trust sent a notice of contempt to the chief secretary. The ball has been set rolling for a new life for Khetri. The state, chastised in court, has sanctioned Rs 5 crore as a first tranche; restoration has started. “We are committed to protecting our heritage,” says deputy CM Diya Kumari—who handles tourism, archaeology and culture. Another positive is that Gaj Singh Alsisar, one of the credible cognates, has withdrawn his claim in favour of the trust. He’s building a 103-room hotel on the foothills of the 60-acre Bhopalgarh Fort. The government is promoting a leopard conservatory nearby. A full Khetri package, complete with a Vivekananda circuit, is on the cards.

“Thank God, something good has happened finally,” historian Romila Thapar had said last year, when a trustee broke the news of the court decision to her. Back in 2008, over a cup of tea in Delhi, a cognate had made an offer of a three-way split of assets. “Romila, almost with tears in her eyes, said she has to meet Raja Sardar Singh in the afterlife and can’t do anything to let him down,” says a participant. She quit the trust soon, worn down by years of litigation. All sides coming together constructively may offer the best climax for this particular tale—even if you leave it feeling philosophical.

Why we should protect Khetri like a national treasure (3)

A TANGLED WEB

The Khetri estate, including about half-a-dozen heritage structures, has been caught in a legal quagmire for 37 years.

Raja Bahadur Sardar Singh, the last titular head of Khetri and an heirless divorcee, executes a will at Tis Hazari court, Delhi, leaving all his moveable/immoveable properties to a newly-formed Khetri Trust.

Sardar Singh dies. Acting on a plaint of internal purloining of valuables, Rajasthan invokes the Escheats Act of 1956, which gives the State the right to take over unclaimed properties without any heirs.

Khetri Trust files a case for grant of probate—i.e. for the will to be validated—so as to get ownership. At least seven self-proclaimed ‘cog­n­ates and agnates’ (heirs) claim title.

Revenue Court Ajmer stays last favourable decision for state, a collector’s order on Escheats. Then, Rajasthan HC overturns a 2012 order, and holds the state’s invoking of the Escheats doctrine to be invalid.

Delhi HC, again overturning a prior order, grants probate to the Trust—thereby clearing its ownership; state Revenue Board strikes down its own Escheats proceedings.

The SC takes over supervision of restoration, and is hearing Rajasthan’s appeal against the probate ruling. It has not stayed either HC ruling favouring the Trust, verbally implying that closure is imminent.

HALLS OF SHAME

Bhopalgarh Fort: Built by Bhopal Singh in 1765 and one of Rajasthan’s top forts, settlers’ houses dot its hilly, 60-acre campus. It contains two palaces: Naya Mahal and Moti Mahal. Both lie in ruin.

Naya Mahal: Built in 1895 by Ajit Singh, with a commanding view of the town below, its pillared halls boasted exquisite Shekhawati frescoes, sculptures and intricately painted mirror-work. Most of it now badly damaged.

Moti Mahal: Of 18th century vintage, and renovated in 1861, another gem of Shekhawati architecture now left to ruin. Its ceilings, bearing intricate circular brick patterns known as kharanja, lie broken and defaced.

Khetri Mahal: The original ‘Wind Palace’ built in 1770. A complex, interconnected series of open, colonnaded halls and patios on multiple levels, this was the prototype for Jaipur’s Hawa Mahal. The paintings in its interiors, done in natural earth pigments, speak of decades of neglect.

Amar Hall/Sukh Mahal/Jai Niwas Kothi/ Purohitji ki haveli: Respectively, the durbar hall in the centre of Khetri, the residence of Sardar Singh, of his grandfather Jai Singh, and the site of rituals and religious functions. All stand broken by neglect and vandalism: termite-eaten furniture, missing chandeliers, animal carcasses rotting on once-splendid carpets, artefacts plundered, steel safes pulled out of thick walls.

Khetri House, Jaipur: A three-star hotel in the 1980s, closed for business in 1998, strong room robbed in 2004, structure partly burnt down in 2015, “sold off” in forged sales, encroached uponâ€æ.

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Published By:

Shyam Balasubramanian

Published On:

Oct 14, 2024

Why we should protect Khetri like a national treasure (2024)
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