Sometimes you just have to eat your words. As I did just now after walking, gobsmacked, through the Garden and Cosmos exhibition at the British Museum in London. Last fall, during a visit to Washington DC, I had stubbornly avoided the exhibition of nearly 60 freshly discovered paintings from the royal court collection of Marwar-Jodhpur. The DC desis were going on and on about the gala opening at the Smithsonian’s Arthur Sackler Gallery, and the presence of Maharaja Gaj Singh of Jodhpur.

Probably the reason for my giving it a miss: ubiquitous, this savvy, doe-eyed royal with a luxuriant moustache and a profile straight out of miniature paintings is the poster boy for royal tourism. And then, how different, really, were these paintings from the zillions of miniature paintings in our museums and elsewhere? It was much of a muchness I told my desi-American friends.

Was I ever wrong! To begin with these were large paintings: they had to be held up for viewing. More startling was the universe of psychedelic colours and phantasmagoric beings into which you were swept, in these works commissioned by the Rathore dynasty. From the heaven-on-earth lush Persian style pleasure gardens with frolicking, flirty women and a king with an insatiable appetite for the dolce vita created at Nagaur by Maharaja Bhakat Singh in the 18th century; to the abode of the gods as absorbed in the pleasures of life; and, finally to the mystical cosmos of the ascetic Jalandhar Nath worshipped by Maharaja Man Singh in the 19th century.

In fact, the last of the three sections is the real eye opener. Some of these paintings resemble abstract canvases of modern times, meditative fields of colours. Asked to portray the Absolute the artists created three mesmerising framed squares. The first, comprised of a field of gold and almost blindingly intense, is supposed to signify the original manifestation of the cosmos.

While Man Singh was spiritually inclined his two predecessors were more concerned with the earthly pleasures of life. In fact, in the second section which pictorially depicts stories from the Ramayana, the gods seem to be made in the image of man (sorry, kings), and are seriously engaged in having a good time.

I don’t want to appear a killjoy but the sight of kings, who reign over desert empires, splashing about with luscious and nubile women in pools and cavorting with them in artificially created lakes in the midst of arid wilderness, did break the spell. Things haven’t changed that much: while latter-day maharajas – many of our political leaders and industrialists – have luxuriously watered gardens and swimming pools, others less fortunate have to struggle for every drop of water.

Passage to London
Meanwhile, back in London the nouveau-maharajas and their maharanis (the super rich desis are their current avatars) aren’t denying themselves any of the heavenly pleasures this bit of the sceptred isle has to offer. Summer, of course, is high tide for visitors. And this time The Audley, a pub in Mayfair, was the watering hole for many of them. Vijay Mallya, the Ruias, Ravi Ghai, Dhruv Sahni and many other industrialists from India as well as London-based socialite-fundraiser Surina Narula sauntered through. Perhaps, the fact that Michelle Obama and her daughters came here this summer during President Barack Obama’s trip to London may have lured others.

Overheard here was animated gossip about the lavish Mayfair home allegedly bought by our very own pasha, Shah Rukh Khan. It’s not quite move over Monsieurs Mittal and the Hindujas – far from it. But, desi-desis are nibbling into their haloed territory. Recession certainly doesn’t appear to have inhibited the visiting desis, judging from the brands crying out elegantly from their shopping bags. That bit of Knightsbridge where the Maseratis driven by scions from oil kingdoms and modern day desert empires roam, is buzzing.

If I may take back my words for a moment about the recession-resistant privileged tribe. One of the ladies sipping a glass of Chablis at The Audley was very excited about the spoils of her quick, turnaround spree to Blister, a shopping paradise a little out of London, on the way to Oxford. It’s the haven for designer handbags – the real thing, mind you, not the knock-offs from East of India. She was thrilled about the Salvatore Ferragamo bag she had got for only about 1000 pounds. My friend narrating this incident was surprised that this rather wealthy businesswoman had actually admitted to buying at Blister – the Mecca for the almost-there, which is not the same as being up there where those who need aspire, no further preside.

Seeking MF Husain
Finding our fleet-footed MF Husain in his forced self-exile is a slippery task. Like the Scarlet Pimpernel you seek him here, you seek him there. And just when you think you’ve found him, he’s vanished. But the trail itself is tantalising. This time I was about 24 hours too late at Trishna, the younger sibling of our very own restaurant in Mumbai that opened last winter in Marylebone village.

Our peripatetic national treasure won’t miss anything new and cool if he can help it. Founded by young Karam Sethi (just about a quarter of a century old) Trishna is very different from other Indian restaurants in London. He and the chef, Ravi Deulkar, have given an imaginative twist to several dishes in this minimalist and elegant restaurant, with an accent on Indian coastal cuisine.

Imagine a kheer with mango coulis and chilli oil. Or, venison seekh kebobs, tandoori guinea fowl. Or, roasted aubergine eloquently put together with tamarind, paneer and peanuts. The pièce de résistance for me – paan petit fours – tiny cupcakes flavoured with dry paan. You can have your cake and your paan too.

Wonder what Husain sahib thought of the colour palette of the fare.

Madhu Jain is an author and a journalist. She writes for several publications and is currently working on her second book. She also curates art shows.

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