Gaj Singh, Jodhpur’s maharaja turns out to be a natural in the business of tourism as he discusses his plans over patties with Kishore Singh

It is unlikely that Gaj Singh — Bapji to those who know him even a little — would have been a despotic ruler because, years after a democratic nation took away his titles and privileges, he is still immersed in the promotion of “my people”. Bapji was coronated as the head of the Rathore clan of Marwar at the age of four, when his father — after winning the first electoral mandate by a massive majority — crashed his personal aircraft in a skein of telephone wires. His mother, concerned that the strong zenana and durbar influence of a former kingdom would lead the boy astray, had him despatched to England for studies.

The move was criticised by some but today, Bapji — in his early fifties — can claim that the Marwari Rathores are one of very few ruling clans in India whose reputation isn’t marred by disputes. On a rushed trip to Delhi where he’s hosting a meet for the owners of Maharaja Heritage resorts — in which his Marudhar Hotels is an equal partner with ITC Hotels — he’s agreed to Tea with Business Standard. Having been restricted to a conference room chair, he’s clearly not used to such confinement, and in the suite where we’re having tea or, rather, lukewarm coffee, he fidgets frequently, uncomfortably, in the same manner in which I would had I been on horseback.

But discomfort aside, Bapji speaks rapidly, and precisely. “We’ve worked out the presentation based on satellite imaging of land use, sub-soil and water tables,” he says now, his mind taken up with the greening of “his” desert. He’s as quick to point out that what worked in Alwar — the creation of johads — may not provide the solution for Jodhpur’s sandy countryside. But, as in Alwar, he says, “We’re creating local village communities who will take the model water harvesting scheme to local Jal families in the villages.”

Bapji has had to be dragged away from the meeting, and one can’t help feeling that he’s probably had his quota of tea and coffee for the day. No wonder our meeting starts with him stirring a red coloured medicine in a glass. “Looks like Campari,” he says with some satisfaction. Then: “A drink?” “No,” I insist, “coffee’ll be fine.” He dittos the order. We have chicken patties. We decline cookies. Kiwi tarts lie untasted on our plates.

Maharaja Heritage was created so that Bapji’s and ITC’s heritage brands could come together, along with other similar properties, to be jointly promoted, managed or franchised. Besides Marudhar’s six properties, and WelcomHeritage properties in Kota and Bikaner, this has included others such as Karni Fort in Bhambora, resorts in Khimsar and Rawal-kot, and properties in Himachal Pradesh, Uttaranchal and Madhya Pradesh. Later in the evening, over cocktails and dinner for select guests, he’ll say: “Next, we attack south India.” But before the JV does that, it must tackle the issue of basic standardisation within the limitations imposed by the “various scales, sizes and nature of these properties”.

Bapji inherited a fort, a palace, sundry trusts, and cultural rootedness. Making him, I point out, a natural for the tourism business. He laughs. “I am,” he agrees, “part of the profession.” Also, I remind him, as head of the CII committee on tourism, he is its spokesperson. Like most tourism professionals, Bapji’s got his spiel down to a fine line. Biting into a second chicken patty — even as mine lies uneaten on its plate — he launches into the familiar argument: “Tourism has to be recognised as an engine of growth, as a lubricant for the economy across the board.” Other lamentations follow: arbitrary taxation, rise in monument fees, lack of upkeep of national treasures, opening up of the skies with liberal aviation policies...

I remind him that tourism is an industry that’s probably bleeding the most, following the September 11 attacks on New York and Washington, and the war in Afghanistan. “Then,” he rationalises, “we must treat this as an opportunity to shed some fat, cleanse ourselves, to emerge leaner, more innovative, more efficient.”

For now, Rajasthan — where he’s been chairman of the tourism board — “appears to be the backdoor of Afghanistan to Westerners,” he says, “but people have short memories. People are looking for the right signals. If bin Laden is found, 90 per cent of the problems will be over.”

Meanwhile, tourism professionals need to wake up and smell the coffee: “There’s a huge domestic market,” Bapji tries to find a more comfortable perch in his chair, “which is why the government must come together for greater consultation with the industry. In Rajasthan, forexample, the chief minister has put together athink-tank broken into groups such as heritage, marketing, education, even environment. A permanent committee on heritage has been formed,” he says with some satisfac-tion. “The CII conclave, too, seems to have done some good work, with close interaction from the Planning Commission, and with CEOs of several companies.”

If tourism is the bread-and-butter for Bapji, his interests in art and heritage have seen the family-owned Mehrangarh Fort emerge as a premier destination where conservation has attracted scholars and art admirers from around the world. “The displays are now being re-designed,” he says, “though it may take time.” A museum shop has recently opened in its 500-year-old premises.

What has taken considerably less time is the restoration of Nagaur Fort, which the family has been able to claim back from the government. The project qualified for a Getty Grant Program, funds for which have to be matched. When it doled out $ 15,000 for the initial report, Bapji’s trust had no problem in matching it. But when the programme was approved, matching the $ 2,50,000 grant was another matter altogether. “We raised half that through INTACH UK,” says Bapji, “and the rest from friends.”

With that phase of restoration over, a report is being tabulated for sending to Getty “before we decide where to go next”. Meanwhile, the Arch Foundation from Austria has become involved with the trust in researching the formal waterways and gardens at the fort.

This also means that Nagaur, best known for its annual camel fair, is now ready to emerge as a destination, provided the right infrastructure can be put into place. “We’ve started a small restaurant,” says Bapji, “and now have tents at the fort not just during the camel fair but also through the season. Our aim is to have people visit the fort. We’re planning a craft centre, period rooms and exhibitions for the purpose. We’re also taking the fort’s zenana area, which does not have elaborate workmanship, and restoring it very simply as a retreat for scholars and academics.”

Back home in Jodhpur, son Shivraj — the heartthrob of Delhi’s page three parties — is now executive director with Marudhar Hotels “and is fully involved”. Bapji’s publishing programme under his trust is also working on a definitive book on the treaures of Mehrangarh. Besides which, another book, that will list all good Marwari horses so the breed can be developed scientifically, is also under preparation. “I keep some Marwaris to breed them,” he says, “but the stallion has turned out to be a poor performer.”

My “tea” has left me hungry, but it’s time for the reception Bapji is hosting where I hope to find more sustenance for the palate. And where, to my amusement, I can watch Bapji wrinkle his nose in annoyance as a friend and fellow-scribe does a floor-touching “Khamaghani”. “Just to embarrass him,” she tells someone. Bapji, used to such servility back home, decides it’s best to walk away from similar public remonstrances in the capital. “Did I tell you,” he comes over to ask, “about the school the trust is running in Jodhpur?” Nodding in satisfaction, he says, almost to himself, “Now, I’d like to start an insitution for young women so they can have career opportunities. I’m looking around for an affiliation. Any ideas?”