The quirky shapes of shrub forest silhouetted against an unending sky, driving in the dark from Indore. The lamps rustling in the trees at Ahilya Fort, revealing its magic slowly in soft pools of light. The croak of frogs at almost-witching hour along the Narmada. Clothes being washed on the ghat. The dull gold light filtering through fine Maheshwari curtains. The way that variously-coloured flowers dissolve into the calm deep-greenness of the river. The shock of water on warm feet. Even the buzz of tourists, the occasional start of a motorboat, doesn’t quite dispel the moment that Maheshwar lulls you into, in the most necessary
People come to Maheshwar for two days and just stay on, Mr Rana, the general manager at Ahilya Fort tells us, and I begin to understand the strange longing that holds you from the moment you arrive. Winding your way through the quiet main street on your way to the ghat — interrupted only by a flash of colour and light and sound, and the feverish enjoyment particular to a wedding procession — you have little idea of what about the temple town is so special. And then you arrive at Ahilya Fort, and a realisation begins to dawn. It’s a beguiling charm that the fort-palace-hotel exudes: drawing you into its tasteful hospitality while pushing you out to discover the town on its own terms, prowl the streets, run your hands through yards of Maheshwari fabric, let the sway of many boat rides acquaint you — just a little — with the Narmada.
There’s a quality to the river that gives the town its distinctive flavour; or at least in the way that the little town wraps its life around the river, and lets the river wrap around it. You feel it the first time you scramble down the million steps to the ghat, edge toward the river, and then slip your feet in: a shot of a deep cleanness, a cool that is rousing as it is calming. You feel it when you wake up in your lovely ghat-facing room at Ahilya Fort, to the soft bustle of people down at the river, and a pink and blue sky. Watching the women gossiping, washing, bathing at the ghat, listening to how the river runs through their days, their lives, their genealogies, acquaints you with Maheshwar in a way that visits to all 91 temples may not. Something draws you back to the river again and again to savour Maheshwar’s particular peace: the stiffest traveller will be tempted to shed all inhibitions and take a 6am dip in the river.
Maheshwar is said to have been built on the site of the ancient city of Mahesvari in the fifth century. Akbar built a fort here in the 16th century; the fort was taken over by Malha Rao Holkar in the 18th century. When Ahilya Bai Holkar came to power in 1760, she shifted the capital of the territory from Indore to Maheshwar. Contemporary Maheshwar, the fort with its lovely ramparts, the striking Shiva temples, ghats along the river, all carry Ahilya Bai’s stamp — a purposeful elegance of style.
The present Maratha prince, and your host at Ahilya Fort, is Shivaji Rao Holkar, better known as Richard. He and his former wife, Sally, moved to Maheshwar in the late 1970s, drawn by a plea from the local weavers that their livelihood was at stake. Maheshwar has been a centre for the famous fine cotton-silk Maheshwari sari, patronised by the Maratha royalty for centuries. After royal patronage dwindled, the weavers began to lose demand for their work. In 1978, Richard and Sally Holkar started Rehwa, an organisation that has been working with the weavers to revitalise this craft and create a contemporary market for it. Over the past few decades, their work has expanded to include building houses for the weavers, a school for their children, and adult literacy and health programmes.
Chatting with Richard at Ahilya Fort — which he started to restore, room by room, from 1996, inviting the first guest to stay in 2001 — one realises that his concern, passion even, lies in the preservation of not just Maheshwar’s weaving community, but the very physical and human geography of the town. There’s a community involvement in how the town evolves, resisting a development that threatens its unique charm and its rich heritage, persuading local residents that the soul of the town needs to be preserved for not only their lives, but those of their children and grandchildren. The sanctity of Maheshwar’s cultural heritage is perhaps epitomised in the ambience at Ahilya Fort, and in the kind of hospitality lavished upon you. The structure of the palace is as close to its original, retaining Ahilya Bai’s almost bare simplicity, and moulding it into a rare aesthetic, creating a different reality from your everyday one, pulling you into a place frozen in an exquisite moment. Meals are served at different locations in the palace — breakfast and evening drinks along the ramparts; lunch at Lingachan, where Ahilya Bai would conduct prayer services and have hundreds of lingams made to immerse in the river; or in the middle of a huge organic garden, in which grows most of what is served at mealtimes; dinner in the lush Poshakwada, a courtyard used by the women in Ahilya Bai’s time; or by the pool, with the fort wall alight with scores of lamps as stunning backdrop. A staff, headed by the warm and efficient Kuntabai, sees that the palace is immaculately maintained and almost intuitively run. And then there is Richard, so much part of the experience of Ahilya Fort — whether it’s tossing pancakes for breakfast, or making himself available to talk about Maheshwar, or weaving, or food, or even his imminent grandfatherhood.
A day in Maheshwar generally turns out to be fuller — despite the languid charm of Ahilya Fort, and of the town in general — than you expect it to be. Comfortable as your bed and lovely Chanderi quilt may be, it pays to walk down to the ghat as early as you can manage and watch it come alive. A good way to wake up is by dipping in the river; if you sit a while and chat with other bathers, chances are that they will convince you themselves, by their argument of habit. Or maybe you’ll see Doofus and Delphi, the two golden labradors at Ahilya Fort (Yoda and Winston, the pugs, prefer the pool), trot down, brush and shampoo in mouth, and the thrill with which they fling themselves into the river will pull you in.
Breakfast on the fort ramparts can be a languorous affair, as the Maheshwari-style eggs, freshly baked bread, hot pancakes dipped in homemade honey, keep coming, and the pace of the morning seems just right to linger over your coffee. But the 45-minute boat ride upstream to Sahastra¬dhara is more than worth dispelling the moment. At Sahastradhara, the Narmada sheds a few hundred years to transform from the sedate personage you know it to be at the ghat, and splits into a thousand streams, rapids and playful eddies. The current is strong, the water cold and fresh, and the urge to immerse yourself in it hard to resist. Let the boatman guide you to a safe spot (the rocks are dangerously slippery) and be prepared to lose all sense of time.
Lunch back at Ahilya Fort is a variety of fresh salads, cold soup, fruit and cheese, and maybe a light bake washed down with pink wine. The afternoon can be spent at the hotel — snoozing off the rapids, swimming in the pool, or reading in the library; if you’re unexpectedly adventurous, you can hop into a boat again to comb the riverbanks for temples. Start with the lovely fort itself, its distinctly Maratha architecture, cenotaphs emerging from the water, and the Rajarajeshwar temple within it. Baneshwar is just a few minutes away, and quite spectacular at sunset, even if only because of the headiness of stories that envelop it. (You’re sure to be told that this ancient Shiva temple lies on the line from the North Pole to the centre of the earth, and its submergence in floods or other adversities signals danger for Maheshwar.) Another recommended stop is Jaleshwar, perched on the top of a hillock, and with a view of lush banana plantations on one side, and river and beyond on the other.
Just before dusk is a good time to walk around the Rehwa weaving unit, or even down the road to Ahilya Vihar, where 40 weaving families have custom-made houses, with looms in each. A feeling of busy contentment hangs over the whitewashed houses, with their tiled roofs, and abundant chameli plants, and you’re invited into one after another, to watch the weavers work, and chat. Leelabai tells us stories from her 25-year career while rocking her granddaughter to sleep in the hammock hung low over the loom on which she’s weaving a gorgeous grey, white and gold sari. Chances are that you’ll want to go straight from here to the bazaar and buy as many of the stunning saris as you can — which is a good idea, as the quiet town slowly comes to life as early evening falls.But if your stars shine bright, as they are likely to do at Ahilya Fort, oil lamps will lead you down the steps to the ghat, and you will be helped into boats for the most spectacular picnic you have ever experienced. Hymns to the Narmada are sung in the twilight — diyas below, stars above — and just as you’re beginning to be hypnotised with the sway of the boat in the black waters, you’re served drinks and hot pakoras from an adjacent boat. Kuntabai will probably be smiling coyly at you as you pinch yourself, repeatedly, and then at your expression as you spot, mirage-like, a grassy embankment lit with lamps and candles and mashaals and a low table set with dinner. The subtly-flavoured biryani and raita, and the chocolate cake and fried banana that follows, almost slips down unnoticed (but not unappreciated), as you take in your surroundings. It makes sense to stop thinking it can’t be, and relish the fact that it is, and you’re fortunate enough to be in one of the loveliest places you’ll ever see.
The information
Getting there
Maheshwar is a small temple town along the northern bank of the Narmada, in Khargone district of Madhya Pradesh. Arrive in Indore (connected by daily flights and several trains to Mumbai and Delhi), and then take a taxi to Maheshwar 91km away — a non-AC vehicle costs Rs 1,200-1,700. There are a few different routes, but they can all be bumpy, so the ride takes anything from two to three hours. If you don’t mind the bumps, and are driving when there’s light, the Jam Ghat route is stunning. You can also take a bus to Mandleswar (8km) or Dhamnodh (13km), and then a taxi from there, for Rs 50-100. The Ahilya Fort can arrange transport to and from the airport (Rs 2,000-3,000 one-way).
Where to stay
Ahilya Fort, built in Akbar’s time, was the capital of Rani Ahilya Bai. Her palace, now a strikingly elegant hotel, retains its 18th-century beauty and simplicity, making a stay there a powerful draw into Maheshwar’s culture. Meals, included in the tariff, are served at various locations in the fort. Tariff: Rs 4,940-6,900. Contact: 011-41551575, www.ahilyafort.com
The management of the lovely Ahilya Fort also considerately runs a more modest establishment on the fringes of the Fort: the quaint Laboos Lodge and Café is overseen by Lakshman and Kuntabai of Ahilya Fort. Four comfortable rooms cost Rs 1,500 each. Food (breakfast, parathas, samosas, sandwiches) and drinks (syrupy-sweet lassi and nimbu-pani) are available, between 8am and 8pm; a meal costs about Rs 50. For reservations, contact Ahilya Fort.
MP Tourism’s Narmada Retreat (Rs 990-1,590; 07283-273455) offers clean, comfortable tented accommodation overlooking the ghats. There are also a few lodges scattered around town. Near the Fort, there’s the Akashdeep and Magandeep guesthouses, both with fairly clean but basic rooms, bathrooms attached, for Rs 100-300.
Getting around
There’s much to explore in Maheshwar, and walking is a good way to do it. Another good option is boat — ask for a ride to Baneswar, Kaleshwar, Jaleshwar, even Sahastradhara. Boat rides cost anything from Rs 50 upwards. Be warned about sunset rides though — the mosquitoes can and will chew your toes off. From the main market, you can hire taxis to many of the innumerable temples around. A non-AC vehicle costs Rs 1,000 for 8hr/ 250km. Autos are also available; to hire one call Wahib (9300952230), a tailor based in the Fort, whose brother owns an auto.
The town is warm and tourist-friendly, but if you do want an eager guide, you’ll find Dilip Yogi prowling around Laboos. He does tours of the Fort, a ‘Narmada Darshan’, the Rehwa handloom unit and some temples for Rs 100. He’s also a good reference for temple exploration. Call him on 98265-79944, or find him at Hemant Handlooms, outside the Fort gates.
What to see & do
– Spend a lot time around the river and ghats — bathing, swimming, dangling your feet in the water as the sun sets. There is an aarti on Monday evenings, when hundreds of diyas are floated on the river.
– Maheshwar or ‘abode of Lord Mahesh’ is home to thousands of Shiva temples — notably Baneshwar in the middle of the river, Rajrajeshwar in the fort, Kashi Vishwanath, and Kaleshwar and Jaleshwar along its banks.
– A tour of the Raj Gaddi, or the throne of Ahilya Bai, the temple she worshipped at (still a family shrine of the Holkars) and a prowl around the stunning fort, slipping as it does into the river, is definitely recommended.
– Sahastradhara, where the river splits into a thousand streams due to volcanic rock formations on the riverbed, should be high on your list of things to do. Take a picnic in a boat, and you can spend hours in the fresh, cold pools and eddies. Careful of the current and dangerously mossy rocks.
– A visit to the Rehwa handloom unit, also housed in the fort, facing the ghats, and to the weaver’s colony (Ahilya Vihar) is interesting.
– The shopping is addictive; Rehwa’s unit has a retail outlet with some unique designs, but a bit more expensive than the shops in the market. You can spend hours in Hemant Handloom and Hansa Handloom, both along the road that leads from the Fort down to the main bazaar. Simple Maheshwar saris begin from Rs 480.
– A stroll through town is a quiet, undemanding insight into tiny Maheshwar; a colourful contrast is market day on Tuesday, when the town comes alive towards the evening. Drink the sharply sweet chai at any stall, and accompany it with samosas, also slightly sweet. Or find Pakeezah Paan, towards the main market, where a relic of a radio belts out the song you haven’t heard in 20 years, and Jahangir makes you a concoction that will have your eyes watering.
Tips
– Keep your days relaxed: Maheshwar will absorb you even if you don’t have hectic temple sighting on your itinerary. And you won’t get the best sense of the town if you rush around.
– Definitely take the Jam Ghat route at least once — the drive is mesmerising. If you’re travelling at a dry time of year, the forest is dry and crackling, lit by orange blossoms. The view from Jam Gate — the border between the erstwhile Malwa and Nimar regions — is perfect for a sunset drink.
– The shopping experience isn’t complete until you stumble into the tiny shops (with little old men who will insist they’ve seen you before), with looms thudding in the back room. Only decide on your purchases when you’ve a) been to Hansa Handloom, b) seen every shade of blue-purple that exists, and c) visited the lone SBI ATM in the market.
When to go
October to March is season time. You could also time your visit around (mainly religious) events. There’s the Sacred River Festival, organised by Ahilya Fort in February, a celebration of classical music against the backdrop of 5,000 oil lamps. Shivratri, the Nimar festival, Narmada Jayanti and so on are colourful celebrations where the river is festooned with saris or diyas. Call the hotel (speak to Kuntabai!) to ask for dates.