Shekhawati in northern Rajasthan is often described as the world’s largest open-air art gallery. Hundreds of multi-story mansions and temples here are covered in elaborate frescos, their faded walls echoing a vanished age of mercantile splendor. Today, the desert towns lie quiet at dawn, roof tiles warm under a rising sun and only the scuffed paint of a deity’s visage hinting at past extravagance.
A visitor stepping through one of Shekhawati’s village gates senses immediacy and distance entwined. Bright murals of Hindu myth or colonial-era scenes form a backdrop for daily life, even as many mansions stand shuttered or crumbling. This land, named after the 15th-century Rajput ruler Rao Shekha, whispers of history in every courtyard and alley, offering an “extraordinary open-air art gallery” that few other places can match.
Shekhawati is comprised of three desert districts (Jhunjhunu, Sikar, Churu) in eastern Rajasthan. Its name literally means “the garden of Shekha”, referring to the Kachhwaha prince who carved this territory from neighboring dynasties in the 15th century. (Rao Shekha’s rebel state became the Shekhawat clan’s home; the region later fell under Mughal and British influence.) Even casual mention of Shekhawati conjures images of ochre lanes and frescoed walls surviving the desert’s glare.
By the 18th and 19th centuries the region’s merchants – primarily Marwari trader families – had grown fabulously wealthy on routes connecting Rajasthan with Gujarat’s ports and the north. They pumped their fortunes back home into grand haveli (town mansions) and public monuments. These mansions, facades awash with mural art, stand today as testament to that wealth. As one conservationist writes, “palatial mansions… bear witness to the great wealth of the merchants… [they] are a tangible symbol of the then flourishing trade of wool, spices, opium and rice”. Over decades, this created a tapestry of art unlike any other: thousands of painted havelis spread across dozens of towns, with subjects ranging from the Ramayana and Mahabharata to camel caravans and Victorian locomotives.
Shekhawati’s fresco technique is itself locally unique. Painters used a method called arayish – a wet plaster “fresco-buono” style combining lime, marble dust, crushed shells and organic pigments. Masons from nearby towns prepared the thick red-brick walls, then artists smoothed and polished the painted surfaces with agate. Only a few Chitera artists of the Kumhar community still practice this craft. The images they left are vivid: on one wall Krishna plays flute in blue tones, on another Mary and Jesus appear on a temple ceiling alongside scenes of Rajput chivalry. (One mandawa tea stall is still painted with steam trains in pink and red.) Mansions also display exotic imports – Belgian mirror fragments, Italian chandeliers – testifying to a global trading vision. Even the symbol of the elephant appears frequently: local guides note that in Shekhawati almost every haveli gate is flanked by painted elephants, a traditional mark of prosperity.
However, by the mid-20th century Shekhawati’s prosperity had waned. As railways and sea ports shifted trade routes, families of rich merchants left for Mumbai, Kolkata or Delhi. Without heirs to run the estates, many havelis were abandoned or repurposed. Today most are empty or crumbling, their paint chalky and peeling. Some have been converted to small hotels or museums – the Podar Haveli in Nawalgarh is an especially well-preserved museum now – but many remain locked and locked away from view. The result is an eerie calm: “Walls if they could talk…would tell tales of [Shekha and his] clan”, as one Jaipur native put it, but mostly they just drift in silence under endless sun and sand.
Shekhawati’s story intertwines royal lineage with mercantile ambition. It owes its name and early identity to Rao Shekha (1433–1488), a Kachhwaha Rajput chieftain who broke from Jaipur to establish a principality here. Under him and his successors, Shekhawati functioned as a borderland buffer (the “bastion of Rao Shekha”) in medieval Rajasthan. The later Shekhawat rajputs often coexisted with powerful trading castes (the Baniyas), whose fortunes grew enormously in the 1700s–1800s.
Overland trade was the engine. Caravans crossed Shekhawati between Gujarat’s ports and Delhi or Awadh. Low tariffs here lured merchants with goods like sugar, salt, opium, cotton and spices. (For example, along one wall in Mandawa, local lore says, a painter rendered opium pots and Mughal nobles together.) These merchants were mostly Marwaris by origin, though they drew on Rajput patronage in politics. Over two centuries, joint family firms such as Podar, Goenka and Singhania made fortunes here. Spurred by this wealth and pride, they embarked on an unprecedented building campaign: by the 19th century every sizable town was strewn with new havelis and chhatri (cenotaphs).
The heyday lasted roughly from 1750 to 1900. In this period, families decorated new mansions top to bottom. Mythology and folklore adorned walls as much as literal history. For example, Nasirabad’s famous eight-pillared Chhatri (circa 1776) still displays murals of folk-hero Dhola-Maru riding a camel. Public works also flourished: joharas (stepwells) like Sethani Ka Johara (Churu) were built to store water for pilgrims and livestock, funded by merchant philanthropy. In short, “exquisitely embellished havelis mushroomed during the eighteenth century and first half of the twentieth”, turning Shekhawati’s villages into a riot of color and design. By mid-1800s the region indeed “became the home of the largest concentration of frescoes in the world”.
However, the same prosperity carried the seeds of decline. When rail and river transport took over, the great caravan routes around 1900 gradually bypassed Shekhawati. Merchants moved to the growing metropolis cities but retained a sentimental link: many continued to commission frescoes or maintain properties here even from afar. After independence, however, legal inheritance disputes and urban migration led to neglect. By the 1950s and ’60s, dozens of havelis were already empty. Conservationists note that landlords now rarely occupy these vast structures; without income or heirs to pay upkeep, walls cracked and murals slowly wore away.
Any in-depth study must begin with the artwork itself. Entering a Shekhawati haveli often feels like entering a painted museum hall. Interiors are frescoed right down to door frames, and exteriors are covered with geometric borders and storytelling scenes. The Shekhawati Project (an international conservation effort) describes these residences as “palaces…covered with frescoes and murals on both interior and exterior walls,” forming an “extraordinary open-air art gallery” of Rajput and folk lore.
The painting process was laborious and communal. Plaster layers were prepared from local red clay and sand, often quarried kilometers away. On the smooth wet plaster (arayish), pigments from minerals and vegetables yielded brilliant blues, reds, greens, gold and white. Artisans from caste groups of potters-cum-masons (the Kumhars or Chejars) worked in teams, sometimes even family crews, to knock out entire walls in weeks. Once the plaster dried, final touches were added “fresco-secco” style with watercolors. The whole effect was a velvety, polished surface resistant to temperature swings – which kept houses cool in summer and warm in winter.
Iconographically, Shekhawati stands out for its mix of traditional and surprising subjects. Mythology is prevalent: Ramayana episodes (Hanuman’s devotion to Rama, for instance) and Krishna’s lila (like Krishna stealing butter) appear in almost every town. There are also local folklore stories painted in panels on inner walls. Yet alongside sacred scenes are vivid slices of daily life: camel caravans (for traders en route), jaunty processions, portraits of the haveli’s patrons, and even the newest attractions of the colonial era. One sees trains emerging from tunnels, early motor cars (rare in rural India at the time), even boxy Indian telephones inserted into palace ceilings. In one Mandawa haveli, for example, a wall shows a British raj official with an umbrella beside a tank gun – a small colonial vignette normalizing imperial presence.
Many temples and public buildings are similarly adorned. A Krishna shrine in the village of Ramgarh presents an elaborate Ramayana frieze on its outer walls. The interior sanctum of a Mandawa temple contains a large mural of Ardhanarishvara (half-Vishnu, half-Prajapati) – a theme more common in southern India, but here rendered in local style. These cross-cultural touches likely came from Jaipur workshops: later renovation of Mandawa’s Ladia Haveli shows an Englishman in highland dress painted on what was once a royal procession. In effect, each wall panel in Shekhawati is a conversation between Rajput heritage, folk fantasy and the influx of new ideas from outside Rajasthan.
No two Shekhawati havelis are identical, but they share common architectural elements: inner courtyards open to the sky, decorated balconies, carved wooden ceilings and jharokha (overhanging) windows. Façades may have European-style cornices or Mughal arched entrances, all enlivened by frescos. Famous examples include the richly painted Jain Mohalla Havelis of Nawalgarh, and the Singhania Ramgarh Haveli (dated 1860s) whose gilded shrine wall is now in a museum. The Morarka Haveli (now a museum) in Nawalgarh is noted for its antique teak wood and murals of mythic queens.
Beyond homes, merchants also funded grand chhatris and cenotaphs. For instance, Aath-Kambh Chhatri (1776) in Udaipurwati is a domed pavilion with eight pillars, its high ceilings painted in folk patterns. Step-wells (baoris) like the famous Sethani Ka Johara reservoir (built 1899 by a merchant widow) showcase folk art on their stone walls. Temples in Shekhawati (such as the Rani Sati Temple at Jhunjhunu) often incorporate haveli-style murals in their quadrants. Many small towns also have Rajput forts or palaces, though these were often more functional than ornamented. For example, the Laxmangarh Fort (17th–18th c.) crowns the town of Laxmangarh with battlements – a rarity among Shekhawati’s merchant-built structures.
Region-wide, UNESCO has noted that Shekhawati’s cultural landscape includes this “unique and diverse heritage” – from ornate mansions to temples, forts and even rural traditions of music, dance and cuisine. Indeed, a walk from Mandawa to Jhunjhunu passes dozens of painted façades, village shrines and votive baoris, all illustrating that broad cultural tapestry.
While virtually every village hides something of interest, some towns stand out and often host tourist visits:
Each place has a different pace. Mandawa and Nawalgarh feel tourist-friendly, with cafés and guides, whereas Fatehpur or smaller hamlets are quiet. Yet even “off-the-beaten-path” towns have surprises: a hidden stepwell, a neglected palace roof-terrace blooming bougainvillea, or a serene morning call to prayer from a painted mosque.
For the practical traveler, Shekhawati rewards patience and curiosity. Best Time to Go: North India’s winter (October–February) is ideal. Daytime highs of 25–30°C are bearable, and dry air brings out the faded colors. (January mornings can drop near freezing in the desert, however.) The region fully awakens each February for the government-run Shekhawati Festival, a two-day event featuring folk music, camel safaris and a heritage fair. If your dates align (around Feb 10–11 annually), plan to attend the festival in Nawalgarh, Jhunjhunu or Churu, where villages compete in haveli-painting contests and cultural processions.
Getting There:
– By Air: Jaipur (113 km from Mandawa) is the nearest major airport. From Jaipur, one can hire a car or take a bus north.
– By Train: Shekhawati towns are on India’s rail grid. Direct trains run daily from Delhi and Jaipur to Jhunjhunu, Sikar and Churu stations. From there, tuk-tuks or taxis connect to local villages. For example, Nawalgarh and Mandawa lie 20–30 km off the main line, served by frequent buses or shared tempos.
– By Road: Rajasthan State Roadways and private buses ply between Delhi, Jaipur and Shekhawati’s towns several times a day. Self-drive is also popular (Mandawa and Nawalgarh are ~260 km from Delhi via highway).
What makes Shekhawati unique? It is the sheer scale of frescoed architecture in a rural setting. No other corner of India matches so many 18th–20th-century mansions hung with painted art outside of a city context. The effect is almost surreal: dusty villagers live and work under walls that tell the stories of gods and kings. One travel writer captured it: “Today, calm streets provide a laid-back sojourn from hectic cities”.
Crucially, Shekhawati offers an authentic historical atmosphere. Unlike better-known Rajasthani sites (Jaipur, Udaipur), here there are no major crowds. Tourists often wander freely with only local children or a friendly shopkeeper for company. A person can sit in a haveli courtyard at dusk and hear the murmur of stars above painted elephants and marwari charkhas (spinning wheels) on the wall.
Academics and art lovers value Shekhawati for insight into India’s Rajput-patwari culture. The murals reflect caste, trade and colonialism, all merging on plaster. Conservation students come to study “arayish” technique on-site. Rural anthropologists note that Shekhawati’s heritage is still woven into local life: festivals revolve around mythic narratives, and current artisans descend from the original painters.
For practical visitors, Shekhawati is rewarding once you bypass initial travel hurdles. It offers layered experiences: historical exploration, photography (the colors are otherworldly), and cultural immersion. With quiet days to roam and friendly villagers (many of whom speak basic Hindi or regional Rajasthani), it’s a place for slow travel. The off-season (monsoon/winter shoulder seasons) see only a handful of foreign travelers, so an English-speaking guide might be found through a hotel or the local tourism board in Jaipur.
Importantly, Shekhawati is not a theme park. Visitors must be prepared for simple conditions: intermittent electricity, cobbled lanes, and traditional meals (dhal baati churma, bajra roti) in local eateries. But this rawness is precisely its charm. As one guide in Mandawa explained, “When we restored a haveli’s mural, people said its ‘souls’ came alive. We want to preserve these walls because they define our history”.* (Local historians emphasize that each faded face or crooked horse on these walls carries a piece of collective memory.)
By combining this on-the-ground authenticity with informed insight — from UNESCO’s cultural appraisal to the Shekhawati Project’s scholarly work — travelers can appreciate Shekhawati’s layers. It is a region where literal and symbolic dust has settled, and where an observant eye can read centuries of Indian life in a single alley.
Shekhawati today feels frozen in time, yet in that stillness lies its profound appeal. Each wall and courtyard is an essay in survival — of art surviving neglect, of history surviving the ravages of progress. The layered textures of paint and plaster mirror the layers of cultural memory: a merchant dynasty’s ambition, the fealty to gods and kings, the arrival of Western modernity.
By walking Shekhawati’s dusty lanes, one reads a grand narrative written on stone and clay. Impartial observers will note both marvel and melancholy: marvel at the scale of devotion that inspired such artistry, and melancholy at the fading colors. Where some see ruin, a discerning visitor can glimpse resilience: villagers caring for temples, NGOs training new artisans, and hotels breathing life back into ancient walls.
Ultimately, Shekhawati educates through nuance. It does not answer with simplistic grandeur but with small revelations: a half-erased deity hand, a jaunty figure of Gandhi riding on a train, a crumbling balcony where two generations once stood. Its power comes from authenticity, not hyperbole. To come here is to witness India’s layered heritage unfolding under an arid sun, and to leave understanding how the past endures in quiet adobe facades.
