Portrait of a king

The Baroda royals have always been great patrons of the arts. But now, Maharaja Ranjitsinh Gaekwad shows his own talent as an artist.

Maharaja Ranjitsinh Gaekwad of Baroda walks into the Priyasri gallery, Mumbai, without an air about him. So much so that the manager of the gallery asks him who he is.

"The artist," he replies softly. Her subsequent embarrassment aside, it's hard to believe that this one man has generated all the 109 works on view. That he is a prolific artist is probable, that he dabbles in so many different mediums is unusual, especially at a time when artists are carving out distinct visual idioms for themselves.

From charcoal and dry pastels to brown ink on paper, water colours on new board and oils on canvas, his works take the form of portraitures, still lifes, nude studies, stylised line drawings, sculpture and even a take on calendar art. "It's boring to engage with just one medium. I am several painters rolled into one," he offers.

He credits his education and training for his competence in varied mediums. Having received instruction from great modernists like N S Bendre and K G Subramaniam at Baroda's M S University, followed by a stint at the Royal Academy of Arts, London, he believes contemporary artists have abandoned the art of academic drawing and are lost in clinical technology. "I have no personal favourites today," he adds.

But hang on a second, isn't this all a tad unusual? Isn't a Maharaja the one who patronises the arts, not someone who turns artist himself? "We were brought up to be self-reliant, make our own choices," he says.

Of course, his lineage explains his proclivity for the arts. His great grandfather Sayajirao Gaekwad III was a patron of Ravi Varma, who spent ten years at the Baroda palace, playing the designated investiture and family portrait painter. The Gaekwads still boast of the largest collection of Ravi Varma paintings; the more affordable oleographs were acquired much later.

This priceless collection, accompanied by Chinese and Korean ceramics, frescoes by Nandlal Bose, copies of Renaissance greats, and Felici's bronzes, is housed in the Fatehsinh Museum that sits in a corner of the 750-acre grounds of the Lakshmi Vilas Palace built by Sayajirao.

Meanwhile, Ranjitsinh's wife Shubhangini Devi Raje, herself the courtly subject of several oils, declares there's no more wall space in the palace left for Ranjitsinh's creativity.

Having consciously shied away from the commercial art market, with only a handful of solo shows, Gaekwad says his work has actually benefited from the lack of self-consciousness that comes from being entirely dependent on art for livelihood.

Having said that, he is eager to note the response to this showing. "Every artist likes to see where he stands," says Shubhangini Devi. Priyasri Patodia, the gallery owner and a former Baroda resident, is confident buyers will respond with erudition.

It might not be easy in a market driven by shrewd investment opportunities. But what viewers won't be able to deny is the pleasure the artist derives from engaging with a wide range of media. Also commendable is his ease with formal representational devices. His compositions, especially his oils, are elaborate and there is heavy emphasis on landscapes a la the Impressionists.

The realism of his icon series, on the other hand, is reminiscent of the Saraswati and Lakshmi oleographs of Ravi Varma and a take on the multi-coloured goddesses of calendar art. One also spots, quite discernibly, his academic influences "" the taut yet fluid lines of his nude drawings are reminiscent of Bendre's.

Art isn't his only skill. Ranjitsinh is a trained musician. "I've had the pleasure of singing playback with Anuradha Paudwal and Alka Yagnik, never mind those films didn't see the light of day," he jokes.

Some Gujarati films he sang for did. Patodia credits the Gaekwads with her love for classical music, recalling the famed recitals at the durbar hall as she was growing up. "Everybody from Bhimsen Joshi to Pandit Jasraj were there," she remembers. "We're older so we don't really have the energy to organise anymore," says Shubhangini Devi.

So is there no living "king-size" any more? "Not since 1970 has there been a life as a maharaja," says Ranjitsinh. Palace events are few and far between and younger generations have developed other interests.

Most are turning their bequeathed estate into profitable assets. Their son has opened Baroda's first golf course and country club in the grounds and discussions are afoot as to whether to turn some parts of the palace into hotel or conference facilities.

Despite the royal family's flagging participation in the city's cultural and educational environment (they still occupy figurehead positions at the university), Shubhangini Devi says the audience in Baroda is among the most culturally sensible in the country.

"Artists who graduate from MS want to continue working out of Baroda, the atmosphere draws them back," says Patodia. "We don't want nightclubs or fancy restaurants to ruin Baroda, we're very protective about our town," says Shubhangini Devi.