Manu Pillai is one of the most refreshing young voices chronicling Indian history today. He was the recipient of the Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puruskar in 2017 for his debut non-fiction novel The Ivory Throne: Chronicles of the House of Travancore, published when he was just 25. Pillai’s diverse career has spanned three continents – from a stint at the House of Lords in the UK to the current pursuit of his PhD at King’s College London. His latest book, False Allies: India’s Maharajahs in the Age of Ravi Varma, offers a fresh perspective into the erstwhile world of royalty in India. Excerpts from an interview:
In “False Allies” you've broken misconceptions that people have long held about India's maharajas. Was there any specific information you came across that sparked the idea?
The idea – to do a book on the princely states – actually goes back to when I finished my first book on Travancore, The Ivory Throne. Over the six years that the writing and research took, I realised that there was far more to princely India than stereotypes and caricatures allowed. Studying the princely states can tell us about communalism, caste politics, the evolution of nationalism, and much else that is relevant even to contemporary India.
How did India's maharajas contribute to nationalism?
Strategies varied depending on each ruler’s circumstances. Some like Sayajirao III of Baroda boldly gave speeches the British deemed ‘seditious’; he gave audiences to revolutionaries; employed patently anti-Raj figures in his government; allowed anti-British literature to be published in Baroda; and gave generous amounts of money to Congress and nationalist organisations. Others, such as the Mysore maharajahs, whose state had been taken over for fifty years by the Raj, could not be so direct—so they developed a brand of economic nationalism, where grand industrial projects challenged the imperial claim that ‘natives’ were no good at science and technology.
Why do you think they're remembered so poorly?
Part of it is that the colonial stereotype of the rulers as obsessed with dancing girls, luxury, and elephants has survived. The Raj circulated this to justify its own presence in India and promote the idea that ‘native rulers’ were incapable of governance. Many Indians absorbed and perpetuated the image, though often it was done for political reasons – as by Indira Gandhi, following her socialist turn. As I argue in the book, however, the issue is not whether the maharajahs were ‘good’ or ‘bad’. It is that they were historically ‘interesting’ and deserve to be studied seriously. They ruled over 40 per cent of the subcontinent—can we really understand ‘modern Indian history’ if we do not give due attention to what was happening in this 40 per cent of the country?
How are India's royals relevant today?
Many of them continue to possess cultural influence—for instance, the Travancore royals are still custodians of the Padmanabhaswamy Temple in Trivandrum. Others have translated their legacy into political capital in electoral politics, such as the Scindias. But of course, many others have faded away.
Is there any anecdote from the book you found particularly interesting?
The British often sent ‘Residents’ as their representatives to princely courts, where these men could try and dominate rulers. Rulers in turn found ways to manipulate them, sometimes by bribery, sometimes by espionage, or even by using court rituals to keep them at bay. In Indore, a maharani sent gold coins concealed in a fruit basket to the Resident—when he objected, she coolly asked if he was expecting more money. In Rajputana, a queen mother who had no qualms interacting with the men of her court used purdah as an excuse just to keep the white man out. The strategies royal women devised to deal with the British are an interesting study in their own right.
Watch latest videos by DH here:
Deccan Herald is on WhatsApp Channels| Join now for Breaking News & Editor's Picks