Bird-watching at Gajner Palace has an unmistakable regal touch;
Experience the original thrills at the wildlife sanctuary
in Gajner, near Bikaner
Harkirit Singh Sangha has every reason to feel swamped, drowned by endless, brain-numbing questions shot rapid-fine by an inquisitive group of visitors. "What ducks are these?" "They aren't ducks," he gestures towards the group paddling in the green waters of Gajner Lake. "they're coots." "Are those cranes pointed storks?" someone else wants to know. It's a dumb question but he takes it in his stride: "They're demoiselle cranes," he says patiently "Why aren't coots ducks?" a persistent guest insists on knowing. "Because their feet aren't padded," the ornithologist from Jaipur explains. "And those?" "They're flamingos," he says. "Then why aren't they pink?" "Flamingos that don't feed on pond algae have white feathers," Sangha says. "Look," screams an eager guest who's trained Sangha's binoculars on (he opposite bank of the lake, "neelgai." "Not neelgai," says Sangha, "they're donkeys." "Wild ass perhaps?" insists the visitor. "No, regular donkeys, the kind you get on the streets, the kind that pull cons," says Sangha.
With a chill wind icing the glorious sunshine that surrounds Gajner Palace, it's a moot point whether Maharaja Ganga Singh. or his predecessors, faced a similar valley of questions. Through the 1920s and 30s, Gajner was at the height of the Indian social calendar, not so much for whist or bridge, jazz or poker, as much as for its imperial sandgrouse shoots arranged to such perfection by the maharaja of Bikaner that he used it to lobby for concessions from a recalcitrant British Raj.
It was diplomacy of a kind the British civil servants who looked down their noses at native states, had never before had to contend with. Seventeen viceroys visited Gajner in its heyday, as did British monarchs and princes, delighted at the bag of sandgrouse and teal, duck and mallard they brought down – helped, it is hinted, by shikaris concealed in the keekar shrubs behind the shooting butts. Gratified by the numbers, papered by menus specially prepared by chefs trained in the culinary art of the Continent, they lent more than a willing ear to the eager imprecations of Ganga Singh, that “wonderful old boy” who wooed them into agreeing to such modern projects as starting his own railways, or channeling the water of the Punjab rivers to his desert state by building the country's first canal.
Thirty-five kilometres out of Bikaner, the land dips and is surrounded by keekar (now being replaced by juniflora, a green cover introduced into the desert by the Jodhpurs), encircling three lakes a little apart. The largest of these fronts Gajner Palace. A favourite hunting spot for the Bikaneris who used to come pig sticking before firearms made it possible for them to add hare and deer and waterfowl to their pot, it was also a romantic retreat for the royal family close to the ancient pilgrimage spot of Kolayat where, legend has it, the sage Kapil Muni would come to meditate. Ganga Singhji looked at the pleasure pavilions of Gajner and saw an opportunity; the many-pillared Pachchis Chowk that had been built by Maharaja Gaj Singh in the late-18th century, he turned it into a formal lounge. He added rooms, palaces and gardens, sculpture and architecture embellishing the idyll established by his Rathore forebears, chiefly the maharajas Sardar Singh and Dungar Singh.
A train carried Ganga Singh's annual visitors from the siding at Lallgarh Palace straight to Gajner Palace. Today, that link no longer exists, though Udaipur's Shri Arvind Singh Mewar who now manages the property, is trying to re-establish a connection between Bikaner and Gajner for a royal saloon in which to bring 21st century guests looking for a slice of 20th century life.
Like much of Bikaner, Gajner too is built of red sandstone, its 19th century architecture solidly investing the new millennium with illusory fragility. But there is a difference. State guests have been replaced with paying guests. "Are these local trees?" they ask, pointing to a row of banyan trees that stretch to the skies and form a canopy to create shaded walking paths fronting the lake. "Maharaja Ganga Singhji had them planted a hundred years ago," a manager at the hotel responds. "This Ganga Singh," says another, "he seems to have done a lot — he was a cool dude or what?"
The "cool dude" was certainly a conservator. "During my reign, the restrictions for killing pigs was unfortunately withdrawn and a great number of them were mercilessly destroyed. Only about seventeen were left when we again made shooting rules," he writes, in an introduction for his celebrated guests. Pigs? Before you ask, this was the accepted term for wild boar that, thanks to those shooting rules, can still be found in the 300 acre forest, along with neelgai and chinkara, fox and hare.
But it was imperial sandgrouse that was the special attraction of the hunt. A winter migrant, it would flock to the waters once a day to drink. Before any major shoot, therefore, hundreds of villagers would be hired to keep them away from the lake for a day or, perhaps, even two, so they would dive towards it in suicidal bids through gunshot and melee, only to become a tally at day's end.
There's a time for tales, and a time for relaxation. At Gajner, thankfully, in rooms that are imperially appointed and finished in impeccable style, there are no TVs. What you can then do is go for rambling walks by the lake's edge, encircling the ruins of Shabnam Mahal built, it is whispered, for trysts not of bloodshed but of the heart. Here, on a bench, watch the lake waters dapple and flow as, within viewing distance, blackbuck can be startled from their grazing, while jackals watch suspiciously, and neelgai stretch to nibble at the branches of a ber.
Or, sunbathe on a deck overlooking the lake, books in a pile on the side, engulfed by a silence so serene that even the trumpeting of the demoiselle cranes fades into drowsy nothingness. If you're inclined to be a little more feisty, there's some lazy activity to raise you out of your somnolesence: go looking for green pigeons in the branches of the spreading neems; there's boating on the lake, and a non-polluting, silent solar boot lets you get close to the waterbirds; or, if you're so inclined, a billiards room with enough elbow space and inviting green baize.
An exploratory ramble through the estate, should you be able to muster the energy, could include an ancient Shiva temple where vesper prayers ore still held, and a mosque dedicated to the memory of 'Piri" Jetha Buta which is the venue for a small mela during the rains. (You could, if you choose, also head for Kolayat, or Bikaner, for a spot of sightseeing but once in Gajner, it is difficult to let go of the place.) The courtyards, gardens and lake-front promenades have shady nooks for sitting, sunbathing, birdwatching or reading, and should you choose to walk up the winding steps, time can be well spent guffawing over framed prints, caricatures and cartoons from The Punch and other, similar publications.
Fortunately for us, there is a performance by the Jasnath Siddhi sect of fire dancers billed for the evening. Heaped on the sands is a pile of red-hot embers around which the Siddhis twirl and pirouette before stepping firmly on the coals, while others put them on their lips and blow glowing tendrils like so much angry smoke. The dance gathers momentum, and its participants lash out with their feet to send the cool hurtling across the sand.
"The sand has been wetted," says one cynical visitor. "It's like snuffing out a candle, it hardly hurts when you touch fire for a brief nano-moment," says another. "Planting seventy kilos on burning coals isn't a nano-second," retorts one guest angrily "There must be a trick," someone says. For all the speculation, the dancers carry on.
You can ask for a special demonstration of the fire dance on advance notice, or even a candle-lit banquet in the sanctuary across the lake from where the palace can be seen brilliantly floodlit, but it's worth it only if you're a large group, or if you happen, as we did, to be in Gajner during a special promotion. It also meant great cuisine, the chef having been hauled here all the way from Udaipur.
But in the end all memories fade, even of food and song and dance, of a palace resurrected from nostalgia, of bonfire and bon appetit. What lodges itself in a lobe of the brain is the birdsong, whether mellifluous or raucous, in the brilliant chorus of the morning and the hurried twitters of the evening. Oh, and that mobiles don't work so, far away from the world, you can actually catch your forty winks in the mid-morning sans SMS. Now, if someone could also turn off that curious guest who wants to know: "Is the ber tree indigenous to this region, or was it planted here by Ganga Singh?
How to Guide:
THE PLACE: Gajner Palace, the former hunting lodge of the royal family of Bikaner. is 35 km from Bikaner and is managed by the HRH Group of Hotels, Udaipur. Its 31 heritage rooms are ranged in different sections of the palace, but those in Dungar Niwas are the most opulent. A scooter-taxi will get you here from Bikaner for Rs 200, though if you're pre-booked. HRH Group will organise the transport. Tariff is in the region of Rs 2,500 per night, but it's best to take a package so that food and lodging is dubbed together as part of their Royal Retreats, or Honeymoons, or off-season. Plan on two nights Getting there: Head for Bikaner by overnight train from Delhi (470 km). There's also a direct train from Mumbai, but the journey spreads over 1,300 km. Also connected from Jaipur (354 km), Jaisalmer (333 km), Jodhpur (243 km), Ahmedabad (754 km) and Chandigarh. by rail and road.
IN BIKANER: There's plenty to see and do, chief attractions being the Junagarh Fort, Lallgarh Palace, old havelis, a camel breeding farm, and temples.
IN GAJNER: Set your own pace. Wildlife safaris, camel safaris and buggy rides can be organised, and cycles are available for riding out. But most of the birdlife and wildlife can be spotted from the premises of the palace itself.
THE GRUB: General word is that it's iffy, though we had brilliant meals, thanks to the chef from the HRH Group's properties in Udaipur who, hopefully, will have done his bit to train the Gajner team.
SHOPPING: Non-existent in Gajner (a crafts mart is on the anvil), but in Bikaner there's miniature art, kundan jewellery, silverware, gesso craftsmanship, dhurries and carpets, and quilts to be had. Since retail hardly exists, an insider should be used to guide you to the craftspeople. Bikaner's namkeens are widely available.
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