Plavba v rovnováhe: Výhody a nevýhody
Cestovanie loďou – najmä na plavbe – ponúka osobitú a all-inclusive dovolenku. Napriek tomu existujú výhody a nevýhody, ktoré je potrebné vziať do úvahy, rovnako ako pri akomkoľvek druhu…
Shekhawati today covers Jhunjhunu, Sikar and Churu districts (with fringes of Nagaur, Bikaner and Jaipur districts) north of Jaipur. Geographically it lies at the edge of the Thar Desert and the Bagar semi-arid plain. The land rises gently toward the southwest, where outcrops of the Aravalli foothills (notably the Lohagarh Range at Jhunjhunu) reach 600–900 m elevation. Away from those low rocky hills the terrain flattens into sandy plains and occasional dunes, with a few seasonal rivers (Dohan, Kantali, Chandrawati) disappearing into the sand. The climate is harsh: summer temperatures can top 45–50 °C under the dry sun, winters may dip near freezing, and the retreating monsoon finally drenches the parched land with about 450–600 mm of rain. Because groundwater is deep and often fluoride-rich, most communities rely on rooftop tanks, johars and baoris to store rainwater.
Despite the modern sparsity, Shekhawati’s history is ancient. Vedic and epic texts call it Brahmrishi Desha or part of the Matsya kingdom – indeed the region is identified with the “Marukantar” land of the Ramayana and the Sarasvati river plains of the Mahabharata. Stone ruins and ancient wells, such as at Dhosi Hill, are even linked to the sage Chyavana and the origins of the famed Chyawanprash Ayurvedic tonic. In recorded history it was intermittently held by regional powers: after the Gupta Empire fell, local Guar (Gour) Rajputs and Chauhan Rajputs controlled patches of land. By the 14th–15th centuries it lay on the frontier between the burgeoning kingdoms of Jaipur (Dhundhar) and Bikaner; Muslim Kaimkhani families, originally Chauhans who converted, held some jagirs.
The defining turning point came in 1471, when Rao Shekha (of the Kachhwaha Rajput clan of Dhundhar) rebelled against his nominal Jaipur overlords. He pushed north to seize Amarsar (near present-day Jhunjhunu) and proclaimed an independent principality that took his name. Rao Shekha divided this new realm into 33 thikanas (fiefs) ruled by his relations. Over the next century the Shekhawat chiefs wrested nearby towns (such as Jhunjhunu, Fatehpur and Narhar) from the Kaimkhani governors. The Shekhawat Rajput clan then consolidated power: from about 1445 until the early 1600s they established their hold over all of Shekhawati and upheld strict Rajput traditions in the remote villages. Even under British suzerainty in the 19th century, many Shekhawati thakurs remained nominally vassals of Jaipur while effectively autonomous in their home nizams.
In practice, however, the wealth of Shekhawati came less from feudal tribute than from trade. By the 1800s, a great wave of Marwari (merchant) families from Shekhawati took advantage of expanding markets. They settled in Calcutta, Bombay and Burma while maintaining ancestral estates here. With the East India Company’s focus on sea trade, many Shekhawati traders “migrated to port cities like Kolkata and Mumbai,” yet continued pouring their profits back into the homeland. By the mid-19th century a conspicuous local elite of bankers and cloth merchants had emerged. (One 2019 news report notes that even Prime Minister Narendra Modi intervened to preserve these wealthy families’ ancestral homes, writing in 2019 to urge urgent measures against “deterioration of the painted havelis of Shekhawati.”)
In effect, the modern identity of Shekhawati was set by Rao Shekha’s 15th-century kingdom and by the merchant boom of the 19th–20th centuries. Today’s Shekhawati landscape – dusty villages linked by highway – still bears the imprint of that layered history.
If Shekhawati’s name conjures anything in popular imagination, it is its havelis – the grand mansions built by Marwari traders in the 18th–20th centuries. Everywhere one looks across the region are elaborately decorated courtyard houses, their plaster walls covered in murals. Shekhawati is remarkable for its wealth of mural paintings, adorning town houses, temples, wells and memorials. Every small town has its own mini “open-air art museum.”
Architecturally, these buildings blend styles. Influences of Rajput palaces, Mughal motifs and even Victorian details combine: wooden brackets and jharokha (balconies), domed cupolas and arched gateways exist side by side with lattice windows and frescoed eaves. The mansions usually have massive teak portal doors (often Burmese teak) with two leaves – a large ceremonial gate and a smaller day-door inset. The courtyards are usually two-tiered: an outer mardana yard used for guests and business, and an inner zenana (women’s quarter) with private chambers, all opening into a colonnaded courtyard. Stone or tile floors, painted wooden ceilings with glass mosaic insets, and carved door frames are common, as are frescoes on every available wall surface.
A faded fresco courtyard at Goenka Haveli, Dundlod. High columns and painted arches enclose a two-story courtyard, showing how Shekhawati havelis meld Indian and colonial motifs in stone and plaster.
Most havelis are built of brick, with walls coated in a lime plaster mixed with sakar (sugar) and patang (gum) for elasticity. Painters (often local masons by caste) worked in both true fresco and secco techniques. Early artists – many imported from nearby Jaipur – drew scenes in charcoal on wet plaster, filling them with natural pigments. Later stages (and interiors) often used tempera on dry plaster. Common pigments included red and yellow ochre (from local clay), indigo, malachite green, charcoal black and lime white. The result was striking: figures, foliage and geometry in warm earth tones enlivened the pale walls.
Over time the subjects of the paintings evolved with the times. In the 18th century, under princely and merchant patronage, temples and chhatris (cenotaphs) were richly painted with mythological tableaux. Nearly all the Hindu pantheon appears on these walls: multi-armed goddesses, scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata, stylized royal portraits, hunting parties and processions. For example, Parasrampura (a hamlet in Jhunjhunu district) has one of the region’s oldest surviving examples: its octagonal Thakur’s cenotaph (1750) has an interior dome and walls covered in ochre-and-black frescoes depicting the life of the local lord interwoven with Ramayana battles. These early murals usually used only ochre, black and white, giving them a simple dignity.
*The painted ceiling of the Ramgarh cenotaph. A 19th-century lotus medallion is surrounded by rows of mythological figures, dancers and riders. The intricate concentric design is typical of Shekhawati’s later murals.*
By the 19th and early 20th centuries the flourishing mercantile era unleashed a richer palette and exotic motifs. With British peace, merchants felt free to display wealth: they built not just one haveli but an ensemble of a home, a private temple, a memorial chhatri, a stepwell (baori) and a caravanserai on the edge of town. Virtually all these structures received painted decoration. The subjects range from traditional legends to local scenes – and to startling modern details. Some mansions in Mandawa or Nawalgarh feature portraits of Queen Victoria, steam trains, and high-powered rifles alongside Hindu deities. One guide notes that “in the beginning… paintings depicted the local ethos – gods & goddesses, elephants, camels, portraits of royalties” but by the late 19th century they included “cars and airplanes, British portraits and European elements.”
Temples and other monuments are similarly ornate. Small neighborhood shrines often have miniature-painting interiors and sculpted spires. Larger temples – such as the glass-inlaid Raghunath Temple at Bisau or the Shyam Mandir in Nawalgarh – are famed for intricate mirror work and paintings. Baradari wells and tank pavilions (joharas) are also decorated: for instance, Sethani-ka-Johara in Churu is a late-17th-century stepwell with a sunken tank, whose broad steps and three domed kiosks were once painted in vivid color. (On a calm day its yellow sandstone facade and carved arches reflect symmetrically in the still water – a classic image of Shekhawati water engineering.)
Forts and public buildings, by contrast, were usually plainer. A few fortress-palaces (e.g. Dundlod, Shahpura) have some painted chambers, but none match the epic scope of the traders’ palaces. Even the grandest haveli palaces often seem discreet beside royal palaces elsewhere – a humble rivalry of private wealth. Yet their artistry is unique enough that aficionados call Shekhawati “an open-air art gallery.” In fact, scholarly conservation groups note that the frescoes here represent a singular craft that blends Mughal-inspired brushwork with Rajasthani storytelling, worth preserving as “unique know-how.”
Despite their beauty, many of these monuments are fragile. Decades of neglect and weathering have left plaster peeling. Some havelis in towns like Mandawa and Fatehpur now offer guided tours (often charging an entry ticket), while others have been sensitively restored. For example, Shahpura Haveli – a 17th-century palace with carved pillars and mural ceilings – was renovated by the local thakur and designated a heritage hotel in 2018. Elsewhere the restoration is piecemeal; villagers and NGOs watch for support to save the fading frescoes.
While its architecture draws visitors, Shekhawati’s living culture is rooted in its Rajput and Marwari heritage. The people are mostly Hindus, organized by caste clan: Rajput warrior families (including many Shekhawats) live alongside merchant-Marwari and business castes. Marwari values – frugality, strong family networks, piety – are everywhere apparent. Traditional attire is still common: men often wear kurta-pyjama or bandhgala suits with a colorful pagri (turban), women wear long skirts (ghagras) and headscarves (odhnis) in vivid tie-dyed bandhani or block-printed prints. In the fields and bazaars, horse-drawn carts or camel carts still appear alongside motorbikes.
Life in Shekhawati’s villages follows the old rhythms. Women tend courtyard gardens of chilies and marigold, apply henna to their hands for festivals, and worship family deities in small shrines. Men congregate under village pipal trees or in chaupad houses to discuss crops or politics. Rajput customs – including clan exogamy and ceremonies led by Charan or Bhopa priests – persist alongside Marwari mercantile values like ceremonial charity (especially feeding Brahmins or pilgrims). Despite modernization, folk beliefs remain strong: local holy men (sadhus) and godmen may still be asked to bless a new home, and Gram Devi (village goddesses) are honored in annual rituals.
The region’s festivals and music are lavish communal affairs. Teej and Gangaur, major Rajasthani festivals dedicated to Shiva-Parvati and Gauri respectively, see women dressing in finery, processing on brightly decorated majja floats, swinging on ornately painted ghaf trees or chents (swing frameworks), and singing folk songs into the monsoon night. Holi and Diwali are celebrated with fireworks and garland exchanges just as elsewhere in North India. Many villages host a yearly mela (fair) at a local shrine, featuring wrestling bouts, puppet shows (kathputli), and bazaars selling bangles and sweets.
Folk dance and music are especially vibrant. One dance form originating here is Kachchhi Ghodi (literally “dancing mare”). In this theatrical ensemble, men dress as marwari clan riders with synthetic horse puppets strapped to their waists, and perform mock battles and folkloric reenactments for visiting wedding parties. A troupe will announce the groom’s procession with high-energy drumming and ululation, prancing in formation with jingling bells. The style was long tied to Shekhawati and neighboring Marwar; indeed it “originated in the Shekhawati region of Rajasthan.”
Another well-known folk form is Gair or Geendad, a martial dance of the warrioress-stirring type. In Shekhawati’s version, young men form concentric circles and bang short wooden sticks in rhythmic duets, the quick claps creating the tempo. Geendad is essentially Shekhawati’s variant of Gair: “some variations of Gair dance are… Geendad found in the Shekhawati region of Rajasthan.” These dances accompany auspicious occasions (often around Holi or festivals) and are typically led by singer-musicians. Folk instruments like the dholak, nagara (kettle drum), and algoza/flute provide accompaniment. (For instance, a Gair ensemble customarily uses dhol and nagada drums along with flute.) When local women dance, it may be to the strains of the more graceful Ghoomar or the peacock-themed Morni dance – in which a dancer mimics a peahen or Krishna in a peacock’s guise – though these are widespread in Rajasthan beyond Shekhawati.
Marwari cuisine, rich in ghee and spices, accompanies the culture. In village homes one still sees earthen chulhas (stoves) and matkas (clay water pots) clinking under thatched roofs. A popular snack is bajre ki raab (a millet porridge) in winter, and in fields one might smell the sweet ferment of raw camels’ milk turned into lassi. Above all, hospitality is ingrained: guests are offered panch-patra – a set of five utensils with water, yogurt and sweets – in the traditional Marwari manner.
Together, these customs – wedding rituals, folktales, devotional singing and dance – bind the desert communities through the year. They also help explain why travelers speak of Shekhawati’s “unadulterated, slow-paced rural life,” a setting where every festival feels shared among kin.
Shekhawati’s economy has always been a mix of agriculture, trade and remittance, and today of services and industry. Before the modern era, life was largely agrarian and feudal: small farms grew pearl millet (bajra), sorghum, pulses, mustard and barley, harvesting meager yields from the sandy soil. The land supported cattle and camels, and villages paid tribute (or taxes in kind) to their thakurs.
In the 19th century the region’s fortunes shifted dramatically. Fueled by caravan and colonial trade, Shekhawati’s Marwari merchants prospered. As noted, starting around 1830 a flow of capital from Marwari families abroad financed a local building boom. Merchants returning from Calcutta or Rangoon commissioned ever-larger projects at home. A typical patron would commission five monuments: a grand haveli (mansion), a private temple, a memorial chhatri, a public well (baori) and often a caravanserai for traders. Walls and doorways were plastered not only with mural paintings but gilded stucco, incrustations of black stone and semi-precious inlay. In effect, wealth that once flowed through silk and spice routes was being immortalized in stone. By the late 1800s some towns like Mandawa and Nawalgarh contained hundreds of such mansions.
Meanwhile, these Marwari entrepreneurs also spread elsewhere. With British rule, many Shekhawati families relocated to growing cities (chiefly Calcutta and Bombay) in the late 19th and early 20th century. They became bankers and industrialists in those metropoles, sending profits back home. The Silk Route of old had been largely supplanted, but trade simply took new forms (textiles, mining, finance). Locals often recall that even as merchants left, their “penchant for building beautiful havelis…continued through the century.”
After India’s independence in 1947, the big landowners’ traditional privileges ended. Many of the erstwhile trading families no longer lived in Shekhawati, and the economy reverted more to farming and government service. Agriculture remains the backbone: guar, mustard, wheat and pulses cover much of the arid land when rains permit. However, recurrent droughts and uneven rainfall mean farms are precarious. Consequently, migration is common. Thousands of Shekhawati youth move each year to cities like Jaipur, Delhi and Chandigarh to seek employment – in factories, construction or the army – leaving older generations and children in the villages.
In recent decades some diversification has occurred. Industrial units have been set up in district centers. Sikar city, for example, hosts textile dyeing factories (notably bandhani tie-dye and screen printing) and steel fabrication workshops. Small cement plants and marble-processing units have also appeared, taking advantage of Rajasthan’s mineral resources. Of particular note, the famous Birla Institute of Technology and Science (BITS) was established at Pilani (Jhunjhunu district) in 1964 and grew into a top private university. Its presence, along with local engineering colleges and the Sikar veterinary and agriculture university, have made the region a modest education hub. The demand from these campuses has spurred some service-sector growth – hostels, private coaching centers and shops.
Nevertheless, opportunities are still limited relative to the population. Unemployment remains a challenge, especially outside the school year; officially, Jhunjhunu and Sikar districts have below-average per-capita income for Rajasthan. Persistent issues – drought-damaged fields, dilapidated roads, lack of medical facilities – have kept many villages impoverished. Water, especially, is a perennial headache: with monsoons erratic, farming families often endure multi-year dry spells. At the same time, fluorosis (bone disease from fluoride) has become widespread because the deep groundwater (2–10 mg/L fluoride) far exceeds safe limits. People often joke that their wells yield healthy bones, if not drinkable water.
The state and central governments have recognized some of these strains. For years activists petitioned for a guaranteed water supply. Finally, in 2024 Rajasthan and Haryana signed a memorandum to pipe floodwaters from the Yamuna River (at Hathnikund barrage) into Shekhawati’s battered aquifers. Under the plan, dozens of kilometers of pipeline are to be laid from the Yamuna canal system into Jhunjhunu, Churu and adjoining blocks, delivering up to 577 MCM of water in monsoon months. Officials say the first monsoon rains through this link should arrive by 2025–26, potentially bringing relief to fields that have seen too little water for decades.
Other government initiatives target local development: rural road programs are slowly improving connectivity, and some schemes subsidize solar pumps and drip irrigation. Education too is a focus: literacy in Shekhawati is now comparable to the Rajasthan average, and school enrollment has climbed (even if dropout rates remain high). On the cultural side, bodies like the Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) and international conservators (such as the Paris-based Shekhawati Project) have begun restoring key murals and training locals in traditional fresco techniques. The aims include not just saving art, but “boosting the economy of the Shekhawati region” by attracting tourism and heritage interest.
Despite these efforts, daily life in many Shekhawati villages is still beset by challenges. Basic infrastructure lags behind urban India. Many rural roads remain narrow and unpaved, turning to mud during rains and dust during summer. Although state highways now connect the main towns, travelers often complain of potholed stretches. Public transport is limited: government buses run infrequently, so villagers typically rely on private minibuses or tractors. At nightfall, a common sight is the orange flash of a generator or solar lanterning a thatched hut, as the electric grid is unreliable in remote hamlets.
Water supply – as noted – is a chronic problem. Even with pipeline projects coming, most households continue to draw on local sources. Tube wells (borewells) have proliferated, but at great cost: many deeper aquifers contain unsafe fluoride levels, and rainwater tanks overflow irregularly. In 2022 some districts reported nearly 90% of drinking water samples exceeding the safe fluoride limit, causing endemic tooth and bone fluorosis especially among the elderly. Community programs now distribute water purifiers and calcium supplements, but long-term solutions remain work in progress.
Education and health indicators mirror these struggles. The overall literacy rate has climbed to the national average (~74%), but female literacy in villages often trails male literacy by 10–15 points. In part, this is due to traditional norms (girls marrying young) and migration (entire families moving away for work). On the plus side, Shekhawati has more schools and colleges than a generation ago – from district public schools to the famed BITS and engineering institutes – so many youths now obtain professional skills. Still, those skills often take them away: doctors, teachers and engineers educated locally frequently find jobs in Jaipur or Delhi rather than at home.
Healthcare remains sparse. Each block has only a few primary health centers, and the nearest hospitals are in the district headquarters (Sikar, Jhunjhunu or Churu) or city of Jaipur. A serious case – major surgery, cancer care, advanced diagnostics – usually means a 250 km trip to Jaipur or Delhi. As a result, villagers rely on rural clinics and traditional remedies for everyday illness, and many elderly die without seeing a specialist.
These conditions fuel youth unrest. In recent surveys, a majority of rural youngsters say they would like to move out – if not abroad, then at least to a big city – for a better job and modern life. A recurring local complaint is that despite being “the land of kings,” Shekhawati feels neglected: its roads are narrow, mobile signals patchy, and even tourism promotion uneven. As one opposition leader bluntly put it when a Yamuna water MoU was signed, officials must do more than make grand announcements “for superficial applause” – they must deliver real gains to Shekhawati’s people.
Still, small signs of progress are visible. New government schools and vocational training centers are being built. Some villages have begun community radio programs to teach farmers modern techniques. A few NGOs have drilled deep “panchayat tube wells” to give each village reliable water. On the business side, local youth have started buses, guesthouses and souvenir shops in pilgrimage towns like Ramgarh and Shyamji (sites of Rajasthan’s cult of Khatu Shyam). These micro-entrepreneurs hope to capture some tourist spending. In Jhunjhunu, Sikar and Fatehpur, markets show a new mix of cellphones, solar panels and imported snacks alongside traditional wares. Farmers experimenting with high-yield seeds or small tractor rentals say productivity is slowly improving, though droughts still bite.
Perhaps most hopeful is the steady growth of heritage tourism. Uttar Pradesh and Gujarat – both much further afield – have shown that even arid regions can transform via culture-driven tourism. Shekhawati is walking that path, if haltingly. Mandawa and Nawalgarh now see a trickle of foreign tourists drawn by the frescoes; a few havelis have been converted into boutique heritage hotels and cafes. Heritage walks and local guides are becoming a small cottage industry. The state tourism department has earmarked some funds for the region’s promotion and for setting up small craft centers. A recent academic study captures this dual outlook well: it notes that “there is no doubt into the potential of tourism at… Shekhawati”, if only awareness and infrastructure can catch up.
Locals certainly agree in principle. Many point to Kutch (Gujarat) as a model: a neighbouring desert region of similar climate where cultural festivals (like the Rann Utsav) and international recognition have brought hotels and roads. “We have even more history,” one villager muses, “but Kutch got the tourists. We want our turn.”
The idea now being floated is sustainable heritage tourism – developing tourism without eroding the local way of life. In that vision, Shekhawati’s faded frescoes would not just be relics but community assets. Craftsmen are being trained to restore murals using original techniques, and some villages are reviving traditional arts (block printing, silverwork) for sale. Schools have started teaching local history, and villages host “intangible heritage” fairs where youth perform the Kachhi Ghodi and Geendad dances for visitors. If these efforts grow, villagers hope they can slow the migration of youth by creating jobs at home, even if seasonal and modest.
In the end, Shekhawati remains a place of contrasts – barren and fertile, forgotten and fascinating, poor and artfully adorned. Its future potential, many feel, is as large as its sagging stepwells and crumbling haveli walls. As tourists spy chipped elephants and colonial-era guns painted side by side on a mansion wall, they glimpse a civilization at an intersection: the past’s mural glory on one side, and a struggle for a livelihood on the other. The Shekhawati Project, an international conservation effort founded in 2016, puts it plainly: this “forsaken heritage” could yet boost the regional economy by drawing visitors. Even Prime Minister Modi acknowledged it when he urged preserving the painted havelis.
Whether Shekhawati indeed becomes the “hidden gem” that India’s art experts believe it is, or simply a backwater that disappoints its neighbors, may depend on how well its people can translate those murals into a livelihood – all while keeping their color-splashed identity intact.
Cestovanie loďou – najmä na plavbe – ponúka osobitú a all-inclusive dovolenku. Napriek tomu existujú výhody a nevýhody, ktoré je potrebné vziať do úvahy, rovnako ako pri akomkoľvek druhu…
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