The desire was always there, but the occasion was missing. When I first read about this semi-arid, less-known, and least traveled destination in northeastern Rajasthan, I decided to have a look, but because of some reason or other, the trip was shelved. It was the month of September and the hot summers had just made way for somewhat less hot days and cooler evening. The atmosphere was just great for weekends and picnics. Once the destination was finalised, I started to think about the possible options to explore “Shekhawati” literally meaning the garden of shekha.On fifth of September 2005, I started early morning from Sarojini Nagar, with mixed emotions of excitement and fear. Mom and Dad came down to see me off, as they were more worried than me, about my driving abilities and street smartness. As always, I had packed all the printouts on Shekhawati, my guidebook, and my inseparable digicam; Music was loud and mood was understandably upbeat. After reaching Dwarka and taking Aninda, we moved on towards Gurgaon. Traffic was thin and driving was still a pleasure; but just as we were in Gurgaon, heavy crowds of weekeders greeted us. A road diversion at Gurgaon caused a delay of about 20 minutes. Having left Gurgaon, we moved passed Pataudi, reached Rewari. From Rewari, we headed towards Narnaul, taking an ill-maintained state. The road condition was really bad and no vehicle other than agricultural tractors, and state transport buses could be seen. Stopped for a while to enjoy a smoke, and changed guards. Now, Aninda was driving while I relaxed and gazed at the uninspiring and morose landscape outside.
As we had no firm plan, we decided to make Mandawa our first halt. Just as we started towards Mandawa from Jhunjhunu through the ill-maintained road, a big pool of water was waiting for us. It was exactly in the middle of the road; with all the traffic moving along its sides with some make shift arrangement of stone slabs put in place to facilitate the movement. “No way” This is how I felt when I saw this pool for the first time. I enquired some little boys wandering nearby, “Is there any other way to Mandawa?” the reply was negative, but I decided to try a diversion road that looked like a by-pass.
Moved for a while along the deserted road; finding no one, not even cattle, on the way. Came back with a big question in mind? Should I take the plunge in a pool, with no idea of its depth or take the side narrow stone slab path? Finally I somehow managed to pass that hurdle not without a beating to my well-maintained and new Maruti Zen. After an hours drive along the patched narrow roads, we reached a different world – the Marwari heartland of Mandawa. All along the path fast speeding trekkers and jeeps kept coming from the other direction, every now and then, pushing me to leave the patches of tarmac.
It definitely was not the right time to move along the streets of Mandawa; the heavily crowded narrow streets with rickshaws, thelas, a few cars, and buses had hardly any space to move in. It was all choked and suffocating. Having moved past the main chowk and Mandawa Fort, we checked in into Hotel Heritage Mandawa. After a refreshing face wash, we decided to take a tour of Mandawa, and left for the same with a guide from the hotel. This was our first close scrutiny of the famous Havelis of Shekhawati, that we were about to explore for the next two days.
Our guide - a young boy who neither had the requisite knowledge about the history of these Havelis nor the compassion to unfold that Marwari spirit of mansion making that created these Havelis in this semi-arid region. He was more interested in learning French and going to Jaisalmer to earn quick money. He guided us through the empty streets to one of the many abandoned Havelis in Mandawa. The occupants had left the mansion long back; the faithful caretaker has encroached the rooms near the main entrance and charges Rs. 10/- to peek inside. We moved around the approachable corners with the consent of the caretaker. It was a reward for the painstaking 8 hour journey.
Our next destination was Modi Haveli – slightly better maintained and open to tourists. This Haveli introduced me to the very basics of a Marwari Haveli. Climbed up the hidden staircases and made our way right to the very top. “What can create such abandonment?” what drove the Marwaris to leave such beautifully crafted and tastefully decorated Havelis? Okay! Even if they had moved for better trading fortunes, why this disregard for such heritage? I was clueless as these Havelis belong to some the richest Indian Business families for whom the upkeep is definitely not a problem.Pondering over the many possibilities and ways of reviving the whole area, we moved around some other Havelis nearby. The situation was pathetic; the smoke, created by the occupants to light up their stoves, had blackened some of the murals on the nearby walls, forever. And, the decay is still on, with total neglect on part of governmental agencies and local people. As these Havelis are private properties and the owners have no interest in them anymore, even though some invaluable heritage is laying there no one is actually accountable for their upkeep. Actually in India, we have so much of heritage that we can afford to neglect these precious ageless creations with ease.
After a few minutes of walking, we were at the little market at Mandawa – very ordinary and quite. I stuck a good deal for a Ganesha painting on an old deed stamp paper. We packed some Chaakki Churni – the local sweet – made of besan and ghee. It was around 1900 hrs when we made our way back to the hotel, but it was all over in Mandawa. Markets had few buyers, no hustle bustle, and the shopkeepers were waiting to put down their shutters. After a cup of hot tea at the hotel, a really mischievous idea came up. “What about a peg or two of rum, to shrug off the fatigue?” and the response came immediately, “What an idea?” Took a quarter and some boiled eggs with chopped onions, salt, and some chilies and what to say, it was perfect.
By the time we moved for our moonlight dinner, our mood was great. A synonym for Hindi word Suroor can aptly describes the state of mind. Rajasthani folk artists were adding the local flavour with their recitals. A group of western tourists were staring us as if they wanted to know how we, Indian people, have reached Shekhawati. Everything was perfect, except the food for which we paid Rs. 2X175/-. After our meals we moved around the balcony and spend some time enjoying the views of Mandawa. Without any plans for the next day went to bed and then to deep sleep. The strenuous and exhausting drive and the rum punch complemented for a sound sleep.
It was around six in the morning, when I wake up. Aninda was in still in dreams and I decided not to disturb him. Made my way to the balcony, and started to chalk out the possible plans for the day. It was slightly cold, but manageable with a t-shirt. Although I had planned a four day stay at Shekhawati, but the driving fatigue had already shattered my spirits and I decided to cut short it by a day. Looking at my travel resources, I decided in favour of Fatehpur, Ramgarh and Mahansar.
The town of Fatehpur was established by the Muslim nawabs in 1451 but later the Shekhawati Rajputs took charge over this territory in the 18th century. Just as we were about to reach the town of Fatehpur, a strange baoli drew our attention. These baolis are wells with minarets and quite popular in this region. Why the minarets? The reason that I could think off was the probably to act as a light house for someone desperately looking for water. The very sight of these minarets might have provided the hope of finding water for the caravans moving around this arid region. Stopped for a while took some photographs and moved ahead.A quaint chhatri along the main road that connects Fatehpur to Mandawa forced us to stop and have a closer look. We entered through a small opening in the main gate with great caution; no one could be spotted inside, it was like many of the other abandoned places of Shekhawati. “This structure must have been a grand one in its heydays” I said to myself. Climbing up the straight stairs we reached the raised platform. After spending some time and clicking a few snaps, just as we decided to move ahead a boy appeared from nowhere. He was not quite sure what to say, as where we. Kept on staring us; I asked him, “Do you live here, in this chhatri? He just nodded his head and smiled. Bidding adieu to that chap we moved towards.
After a short drive we reached the Fatehpur government hospital. It was like any other abandoned structure found abundantly all over Shekhawati. Only thing that distinguished this structure from the others was a small board on the entrance mentioning the Working hours and other details. When Aninda enquired the Hospital Caretakers about the old havelis and temples of Fatehpur, they directed us to relatively new temple nearby. The construction was new and temple attendant was rubbing his eyes to ward off the sleepy feeling. Having gauged his non-welcoming mood we decided to shed our religious feelings and move ahead for Nadine Le Prince Haveli and Cultural Centre.
After parking the car near the Hospital entrance, we moved across the road to look for the French Haveli. French? How come a French Haveli came up in this remote dusty town of Fatehpur? The doubt was obvious. Suddenly there was a rush of some foreign tourists coming out from a Haveli. We also decided to have a look at what’s in store. It was a pretty ordinary Haveli compared with the high standard of minute detailing that is prevalent in Shekhawati. Some renovations were going on to make this Haveli more colourful and more arousing for the tourists. The renovators told us about their plans and the intentions their sethji has to preserve this heritage. The presence of an old French couple again led me to think about the special fondness that French people have for these properties.
Our introduction as Journalists from the TIMES OF INDIA, forced one of the persons to accompany us to our ultimate destination - Nadine Le Prince Haveli and Cultural Centre. We continued with our fake identities for the next two days that gifted us with special privileges and rewards literally everywhere we went. The caretaker treated us with personal attention and showed us the whole Haveli. We showed the grip over our subject by asking a few questions about the bouno fresco technique, the restoration and the roadblocks faced during the restoration. We did asked him about the French lady who took all the pain in restoring this Haveli that was earlier known as Nand Lal Devra Haveli. “Madam took this Haveli for 32 lacs and she spend another 70 lacs to make to this Haveli look the way it is today,” the caretaker added. He continued, “The upper floors are air-conditioned and serves as the private residence of madam, who often visits India with her sons and daughter-in-laws. Having moved around every nook and corner of this repainted Haveli, and saying goodbye to the caretaker, we decided to have wrap up Fatehpur and head towards Ramgarh.
Just as we moved along the narrow road towards Sethon-ka-Ramgarh, a long pool of water welcomed us right in the heart of Fatehpur Town. The traffic of camel carts, cyclists, and pedestrian by passers was moving along the two sides of the street. Only god knew the depth the pool that stood between us and Ramgarh. With no other options decided to take the plunge; “thud” a big bang and the engine stopped, with my car floating amidst the pool; the wheels completely submerged. For a new driver like me, on my maiden trip it was nothing less than a dreaded nightmare that left me clueless for a while. Restarted the engine and putting on the first gear slowly dragged out my new car cautiously. A decent track gave a respite after a few meters. Aninda wanted to have something as we had skipped the breakfast. He went down to bring something as I waited inside the car. And what he bought back was equally funny and frightful. Samosas, oil soaked and fried long back, with ghooghnee in small leaf bowls. When it became apparent that we cannot have it while the car is in motion, we decided to have a small halt and had out breakfast.
The drive from Fatehpur to Ramgarh was a unique one – feeble traffic; empty terrain – denude of any human and animal; the straight road moving up and down; periodic bumps and rough patches; obstructive road extension exercises; R D Burman; and a continuous monitoring of the fuel meter. By the time we reached Fatehpur, the petrol indicator was low, and the non-availability of any petrol pump at Fatehpur added more to our woes. Ramgarh was actually the place where we could actually tank up and move ahead. After reaching Ramgarh, inquired about the Petrol pump, took ample petrol, and without wasting any time moved towards Mahansar.
A series of irregular and uneven stairs led us to the central courtyard of the fort. There was nothing royal about it; a mechanic was waiting to repair the gas stove burner, objects that reflect a plain middle-class lifestyle were all around with no one around the place we could talk to. After some time a person appeared in a plain kurta and offered his services. Just as in Fatehpur, we played the TOI card. He was clean bowled, by our introduction. We showed a desire to move around the fort complex, and have a look at Room No. 6. He associated a boy with us, who took us to all the hidden corners of the Mahansar Fort. Standing at the topmost point of the Mahansar fort, we gazed through the barren terrains of Mahansar. It was really exciting to think about the bygone days, when Mahansar was in its royal grandeur.
After some relentless hovering here and there, and a brief rest at Room No. 6, we decided to have our lunch at Mahansar Fort. To add a personal touch to the hospitality, the same person who welcomed us, came and initiated a chat. In due course of our interaction we came to that we actually were talking to the heir prince of the erstwhile Mahansar State. I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that someday I would sit with a maharaja on the same table and have an informal chat about the pre-independence raj era. “Okay, I do agree Mahansar is very small and not many people know about it, but still, “a king is a king.”
An oil painting of the last recognized ruler of Mahansar adorned the wall just behind the present prince, adding to the nostalgic ambience and charm, as he carried on with stories about his grandfather. “The Shekhawati Empire, at one point of time was bigger and mightier than Jaipur State, but the policy of dividing the state amongst the many sons the Maharaja had rather than nominating one son as the king, resulted in many small kingdoms”, informed the crown prince. The whole idea was to avoid the raging wars amongst the many princes’ post Maharaja Death to take over the Empire. These small kingdoms had to develop and maintain their own armies; manage bureaucratic ties with friends and foes; show off some grandeur and pomp at fairs and festivals to maintain their royal status. This lead to poor financial health, simple and less royal life style, and inevitable diminishment onto oblivion with time. Today how many people know about Mahansar, Dundlod, Nawalgarh, Fatehpur, and Ramgarh? Not many.
Apart from the aged fort, fading royalty, and simple lifestyle what impressed us was the Hospitality. Had our lunch in the very homelike restaurant at Mahansar, with some of the local preparations served on our table. Aninda wanted to feast on the Mahansari Mutton, as the prince had spoken a lot about its taste. But, the non-availability forced us to go for the vegetarian Shekhawati delicacies. Meanwhile, the very thought of crossing watery potholes at Fatehpur again on our return journey gave me cold shivers. That’s the reason why I discussed about the poor connectivity of Mahansar with the prince and what he told was really soothing to my ears. Finished our lunch, and after scrapping the visitor book at Mahansar, we decided to move towards the other main attraction – Sone Chandi ki Dukaan. The visitor book was full with comments from visitors, all around the world. Mahansar, what I found, is just perfect for a simple, quite and peaceful weekend holiday.
Our next destination was one of the best kept secrets of the whole Shekhawati area. Although there are hordes of havelis elsewhere in Shekhawati, Mahansar is the only place where one can witness murals done with pure gold and silver. Sone Chandi ki Dukaan, sitting next to the Mahansar fort, is not an attention puller certainly. For most of the time it is locked, however one can get the keys from the grocery shop nearby and peek into an unexplored world. It has six rooms in total; three in the front painted elaborately; while the other three in the rear are quite ordinary. We were told that both Ramayana and Mahabharata are painted on its vaulted ceilings – with all episodes in totality. The purpose of this unique building is also debatable, as it doesn’t follows the traditional Haveli layout. Two probable uses could have either been a shop, as the name suggests, or a place for the baaratis to stay, as goes the local folklore.
Whatever is the reason, but the workmanship is perfect. Yellow, red and green colours have been used predominantly. At many places, the yellow gold coatings have been scrapped off and to prevent any further damage the nearby grocery shop owner has been empowered with a lock and key set to safeguard the Haveli. Interestingly, here also we found one visitor book. After exploring the Haveli in great detail just we decided to move towards Nawalgarh – this time via Bhikansar and not via Fatehpur – as guided by the prince. In another hour or so we reached Mandawa; stopped near an abandoned structure near the state highway and headed towards Nawalgarh via Mukundgarh & Dundlod.
Just as we took the diversion for Nawalgarh, we stopped a while at a roadside stall for cup of tea with smoke puffs. A placard informing about the Ramesh Jangid Guest House at the outskirts drew my attention and we decided to go there. “Sorry Sir! But we have no vacant rooms, it’s all occupied,” informed Mr Jangid. Enquired about any other good hotel in Nawalgarh, he said, “There are few good hotels in the town.” Just as we were moving into Nawalgarh town, a new problem awaited us. A stretch of sand, cresting in the middle stood like a hurdle between us and Nawalgarh Town. Judging by its height, and keeping in mind, the low ground clearance of my car, I slowed down a bit and rolled into the quagmire. And that was the mistake; after a few yards, the car failed to move forward; the tyres kept on rotating on the loose sand. I was in full tension and sweat; what to do now? How to come out of it?
What looked like a bizarre phenomenon to me was actually something quite normal for the locals. A fellow came and said in a taunting manner, “kya saab! hum to Maruti 800 bhi bhaga ke nikaal lete hai, yeh to phir be ZEN hai.” I tried to put on gear many a times but it was in vain, the car didn’t move a single inch. He came forward and advised us to remove the sand around four tyres. Only after removing the sand the car moved; I had no courage and skills to try it again, instead I asked the local fellow for an alternative way to Nawalgarh Town. Yes! There was one, through the narrow domestic streets running parallel to the main sandy entrance.
Driving through the streets was a horrifying experience; the roads were not just bad, they were oozing with over flown drains on either side. At places, to cover the open drains, stone slabs have been put over them. There were a plenty of vendors, with their thelas, and stray local people, lazily moving all around the place. If these things are not going to cause you any trouble, then there are the occasional camel carts, indigenously made, with used rubber tyres, suddenly coming your way. One such cart blocked my way near the town entrance. Guess! What could have been his response? He was smiling and waiting for me to get aside so that he can move. You know why? Because a car understands what reverse gear means, but Camel knows only one way and that’s – Forward.
After negotiating the busy bustling market place, we reached our destination, our shelter for the night – hotel Bhawar Niwas Palace – the most opulent heritage property in Nawalgarh. The palace was a great recluse from the busy town; a big gateway welcomes you to its unexplored world; the spacious mansions have a colonial feeing; a small cattle farm with some deers and camels; a swimming pool with no water and a complete quite environment adds to its rustic charm. And as expected, the charges were quite high – and that’s the reason why it remains vacant most of the time. “Times of India” Okay but it will be the final time, we reached a consensus. The manager agreed to offer us one room in one of the many outhouses that surround the main palace for just 1000 bucks. We were trying to hide the happiness evident on our faces, as we moved towards our isolated and quite room.
So, what to do, now? After a drive of around six hours, I was really exhausted and was in no mood to move out. A face wash and a few puffs were sufficient to raise the energy level marginally and we left for the town market in search of the real rejuvenator – a bottle of Indian desi Rum. When there’s a will, there’s a way – we got everything that was on our wish list. We decided stick to our Mandawa Menu – Rum with coke, boiled eggs, chopped onions and some bhujjia, although we had to scan every corner of the market to find the cold drink.
After a refreshing and much needed bath, took some rest while Aninda tried everything to have a dip in the age-old bathtub. And then, started the party we eagerly waited for. It worked like a miracle, especially for the fatigue and body pain that I had. I was riding high, high on the clouds. After a few rounds of rum, and gossips, we decided to move for our dinner. The atmosphere was great, simply great – moderately cold climate, light mood, royal comforts, lone and quite surroundings – it certainly was one of my best and extravagant experiences. Had our dinner, and took rescue to the clean beds in our spacious room.
Fresh–n-oozing with energy - That’s how I was feeling, when I woke up early in the morning. Aninda went for a small walk around our outhouse, while I did some free hand exercises near the cast iron chair. Sight of some playful rabbits in a nearby park forced me to take out my camera. But, instead of photographing those rabbits, we ended up taking some silly pictures. We skipped the routine breakfast at Hotel and decided to go for some local street food instead. But, finding the same was not as easy as we thought. After wasting some time at a restaurant and waiting a while for the samosas to be ready at Nawalgarh Market, at last we broke our fast with plain chai and sev served on a piece of newspaper.
Dr. Ramnath A Poddar Haveli and Museum was our next halt. This Haveli is probably the best preserved and the most inviting one in the whole of Nawalgarh that has around 600 havelis in total. The exteriors were exquisitely painted with murals. We were welcomed at the gate by one of the very few knowledgeable guides in Shekhawati. He was well-prepared as we had already hovered around the Haveli earlier in the morning and had asked the caretaker about the timings. After briefing a bit about Mr Poddar, his family, and his present descendants, we were taken for a guided tour around the Haveli.
Just like the exteriors, the interiors were painted richly with stories ranging from Indian Mythology to the European lifestyle in the 19th century. Steam Engines, with European Elites; Electric Traction; even the pantograph was there - All this detailing even when the painter had actually never seen such a thing. We were told that when Sethji went to Europe for the first time, he was so overwhelmed with the English things that he wanted to have almost everything. Whatever he could have packed, he bought with him and whatever he couldn’t remain in his mind indelibly. He came back and started telling stories about the Electric Trains, the modern machines, and the European way of living. The seriousness in which the local painter grasped sethji’s description and applied his imagination to draw these alien things is really commendable.
The Haveli has a very casual architectural approach – the lower level has a strong Rajputana flavour whereas the first floor that presently houses a primary school has Victorian touches are totally unexplained and strange. All the wall murals have been redone with modern colours to recreate the old grace, as opposed to the non-interfering restorations done at Morarka Haveli. The concepts were actually totally out of phase. While the Morarka Murals have only been cleaned with no modern strokes, at Poddar Haveli, a repaint has been done on the existing murals without changing the actual designs. Having scanned all the minute details all over the Haveli, the guide took us to the Museum.
A finely carved wooden door in the first courtyard introduced us to a well arranged Rajasthani living room. This room showcases a typical marwari workplace – a sitting place on ground with mattress and bolsters, a rope meant for blowing wind pane atop hanging from the top, a few earthen artifacts, a hookah with a long smoking pipe, and murals all over the walls. The guide drew our attention to one of the murals that depicts the city of Manchester that was the hub of industrial and commercial activities in the early 20th century. On either sides of the main sitting space there are hidden stairs that lead to the side balconies, probably used to monitor the happenings. Business with traders was done in closed chambers only in the company of confidential family members. Only deaf attendants were engaged for doing the petty jobs of moving the papers or pulling the wind pane. “Deaf boys were in great demand and molten lead was poured into ears by parents to enable their wards to get a job in Sethji’s Haveli,” informed the guide. “Exaggeration,” yes! We felt the same way but without showing any difference of opinion opted to listen patiently what he had to say.
During our course of conversation, the guide threw some light on something that we never thought of. “Have you spotted any toilets in any of the Havelis in any of the Shekhawati Towns?” he asked. Well after some serious thinking, I asked then how did they manage the daily routines? The idea of having a toilet in the Haveli premises was something that the seths were not comfortable with in those days. They would walk in groups with their attendants in the wee hours of the morning with water to do away with the natural calls. The attendant would make a hole that will be duly filled in with soil after use. And the same practice applied for the ladies too. Well! It sounds very contemporary even today to those who have been to rural north India.
After spending a few minutes in the nearby museum annex displaying various musical instruments we decided to wrap up. The most interesting exhibit was an old Bush AM/ FM Radio of 1930’s. When asked, “What else should we cover in Nawalgarh? Is there any other monuments of interest in vicinity?” Mr. Guide replied, “Saab, yeh to kuch bhi naahi hai, abhi to bahut kuch baaki hai.” But we had no time and the very thought of driving back to Delhi was giving cold shivers. Keeping the fiery thoughts apart we decided to explore one more Haveli that was numero uno on the guide’s recommendations. After the final shake hand with the fantastic guide, we sailed on for the final Haveli Encounter. Wasted a good amount of time and energy to spot the same and finding nothing worth mentioning we decided to return back. After a face wash and brief packing, we had our lunch at the Bhawar Niwas Palace and kicked off our return journey towards Delhi.
This time we took a different route for better. From Nawalgarh, we drove to Sikar and from Sikar we took the State Highway through Ringas to Chomu, near Jaipur. Aninda wanted to have a stopover at Jaipur, but I decided and convinced him against the idea. Via Samode and many other less known places we touched the perfectly maintained NHAI National Highway for Delhi at Manoharpur. It was a dream ride, speedy and comfortable. We briefly stopped at Chindwaji on the Highway with a sturdy mountainous landscape all around. On our way back we stopped for a few pit stops with chai and smoke puffs. Having moved past Shahpura, Kot Putli, Bahror and Bawal, we reached Gurgaon by dusk. At Gurgaon, the traffic was thick as usual; took some petrol and straightway drove to Dwarka to drop Aninda. Aninda was impatient as always to have the pictures transferred to his PC and get the CD’s burned. Enjoyed the egg roll at Dwarka Shopping Centre; had a cup of tea at Aninda’s place and wasting no time left for Sarojini Nagar. Mom, Dad, and didi all felt relived at the very sight of my car. Ayush welcomed me with the same eagerness that he always showed on my return from office. After a refreshing bath, spend some time with Ayush and Ahana, had my dinner and after a brief chat went to bed.
I have tried to list out some of the famous and prominent Marwari trading, commercial, and industrial houses. Just have a look and check how many of them are you familiar with or even heard about? Aggarwal, Bajaj, Bansal, Bindal, Birla, Dalamia, Dudavewala, Garg, Goyal, Goyanaka, Gupta, Jaipuria, Jaju, Jalan, Jhunjhunuwala, Jindal, Kanodia, Kansal, Kejariwal, Khandelwal, Khemka, Khetan, Kothari, Lakhotia, Lohia, Mittal, Modi, Mohata, Murarka, Parasrampuria, Patodia, Patwa, Poddar, Ruia, Rungata, Saraf, Sekhsaria, Singhania, Somani, Taparia, Garodia, Bagaria and others. And remember this is not an exhaustive list and excludes many other houses. So, what’s the purpose of listing all these names, one may ask. This actually indicates the penetration that marwari community has in the Indian industry and, they own nearly 50 percent of it. The initial advent of Bombay and Calcutta, as major Indian trade posts led hordes of them to leave their homes and create an empire of their own, in alien atmosphere and surroundings. But, Marwaris, with a steely resolute could hardly be deterred by such minor blockades.
Looking into the history of Marwari Families, during the British days, one can hardly forget the entrepreneurship endeavors of Girdhari Das Birla against the immensely influential Scottish lobby of Jute Mill owners. After a few years of Jute trading, G D Birla, thought of starting his own Jute mill, but he had no ideas about the possible roadblocks that an Indian would be up to in starting an industrial enterprise in his own motherland. Even when he bravely managed the issues of finding a suitable land, imported machinery, and some skilled workmen, his output, was still behind desired calculated values. He decided to pack off his manufacturing business and return to trade. After a patient wait outside the office of Andrew Yule, one of the leading jute agencies of Bengal, for a sell-off deal, he was showered with words of insult towards the whole race. G D Birla took it very seriously, and the rest is history. Today, how many of us know about Andrew Yule, but there’s hardly any Indian today who has not visited any Birla temple, compassionately build over the years, all over India, by the Birlas.
Today, with the changing world, with a shift towards knowledge, the Marwaris have also changed. Aditya Birla, a MIT graduate, has expanded his business in as many as 12 countries. “License Raj” and “Liberalization” could easily be identified as the reasons for these overseas ventures. Laxmi Niwas Mittal, head of Mittal Steel, recently acquired the Luxembourg based Arcelor much against the will of EU members. The Indian businessman has become global, and raring to expand to any corner of the globe. Shekhawati, their native land, has lost its glory; its people; and what remains today are vacant ghost towns with some of their finest frescoed Havelis with an un-paralleled rustic charm.
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