#Indian Royalty

[tiaramania]

TIARA ALERT: Princess Inayatinder Kaur of Patiala wore the Mellerio Peacock Aigrette for Le Bal des Débutantes at the Shangri La Hotel in Paris on 26 November 2022.

[thecornercoffeeshop]

Narain Niwas Palace Hotel, Jaipur

[hum-suffer]

@kanhapriya you were very excited for this. I hope you don't mind me tagging you and hope this reaches your expectations

=================================

It all started on late afternoon a week ago when Lakshmi got a call from Ram.

"Do you have holi appropriate clothing for Dhuleti celebration?" He'd asked her after all the pleasantries.

And so had begun the lecture on the huge difference between Holi and Dhuleti and how her husband loathes wearing white on Holi and how it's reductive to wear a whole new spotless white outfit only for it to get drenched in colours of all kinds. Lakshmi had agreed, obviously, he was being very logical about it.

And thus began the search for ratty-but-respectable clothes for Lakshmi to wear on the Dhuleti celebration which would be held at the palace grounds and would be grander than ever as it is their first celebration after their marriage and Lakshmi's organisation for animals, Shashwat, will be the beneficiary of the event income.

Lakshmi is sure that Veer, Ram's manager, tattled on them to Maharani Radha.

Maa and Ram have been discussing the same with each other for the past ten minutes and now the conversation has shifted to a half Gujarati, half Hindi mix that Lakshmi doesn't even bother to follow.

Matar paneer is a better focal point, in her very humble opinion.

"You both are going to be in the spotlight, that's why I'm trying to shove some sense into you!" Maa says, glaring at Ram. She turns to Lakshmi,"You understand what I'm saying, beta, don't you? Wear your old clothes next year, it's your choice, but forgive me some grey hair this year, please."

"But, Mummy, it's a waste of time and resources to buy new clothes only to wear them once!" Ram replies, absently adding some salt to his matar paneer.

"Then I'll make a pochaa out of your clothes, bloody! Do as your mother says, for once, child!"

Lakshmi snickers and Maa gives her a conspiratory smirk while Ram looks on in betrayal.

Lakshmi shifts the conversation to the previous Dhuleti celebrations and what she should expect from them to save her husband some strife.

She often forgets he is a menace on his own.

____________________________________________________

If she didn't trust him more, Lakshmi would say that Ram is mostly doing this because he's trying to give Veer an aneurysm.

He found some of his old clothes that already have stains on them. The stains are minor, Lakshmi will admit freely. He likely forgot those clothes exist at all after putting them aside and Veer likely hid them away so Ram wouldn't insist on wearing them.

Lakshmi notes that all the stained kurtas are suspiciously floral printed.

She looks at Veer in suspicion, but he's too flustered trying to stop Ram from noticing her look.

"Your highness, please," Veer says, trying hysterically to stop Ram in a way that wouldn't end up with Ram tripping,"Your mother will be furious with me!"

"What is one to do, Veer?" Ram asks dramatically, taking a split second look at Lakshmi as she walks beside him,"My wife and I need clothes for Dhuleti and Mummy wouldn't let us wear our home clothes. I must settle for my older clothes and my darling and most understanding wife must settle for wearing my kurta."

"These are already stained," Lakshmi adds her two cents, absolutely enjoying the feel of a particular chikankari kurta in her hands that she will surely steal for comfort purposes,"This way, we will maintain decorum and also be more environmentally aware!"

Veer's eyes widen. "Not you too, your highness! Please, you know these clothes were set aside for donation."

"Yes, of course," she replies, pretending to be incredulous,"We're not going to wear all of these kurtas together, Veer, come on."

Ram stops in front of a door and pushes it open with his foot, hands loaded with different kurtas and t-shirts.

The people inside the laundry room all freeze as they see the Crown prince, the prince consort, and the crown prince's manager enter the laundry room; of which, the couple have various clothes in their arms.

An older woman comes rushing towards them with two empty baskets. Lakshmi somehow manages to grasp one of the baskets and puts it on the ground, dumping the clothes from her arms to the basket.

"Gently, please!" Ram calls out dramatically again,"I love my clothes as much as I love you!"

Lakshmi raises an eyebrow.

"Not as much, obviously, I misspoke." He corrects himself sheepishly, painstakingly putting the clothes in his arms in the basket one by one. Lakshmi decides to be petty enough to not help him.

"Your highness, you? Here?" The woman doesn't seem to be able to process what exactly is happening and Lakshmi pities her.

"We are so sorry to barge in on your work like that," she says,"We just have some clothes to wash and we'll be out of your hair as soon as possible. I am Lakshmi and you are?"

"Kalpana, your highness. Here, I'll take the clothes and return them to you."

"You don't have to do that at all, Kalpana ji," Ram says, making the poor woman freeze mid motion. "Mahadev has given us a couple of hands each, we can wash the clothes ourselves, if you'd only be so gracious to guide us to an empty washing machine."

Kalpana fumbles and looks at Veer for a split second before moving aside and leading them to a corner with an empty washing machine. Lakshmi smiles at her in thanks. "Thank you, Kalpana ji. You can go back to your work, we shan't delay you anymore."

She nods wordlessly and moves away. Veer continues to look in with trepidation as Ram and Lakshmi push up the sleeves of their tshirts.

Ram gives her a grin that tells her just how much he's enjoying this and Lakshmi, with agreement of the other workers, plays old Bollywood songs while the machine is on.

Ram drags her in a makeshift ballroom dance and she laughs at his dramatics, absolutely besotted with her husband.

____________________________________________________

Ram wears his bleached and washed white shirt and Lakshmi wears one of his floral kurtas for Dhuleti.

Maa sighs and smiles tiredly at the two of them.

[women-throughout-history]

Maharani Jind Kaur

Maharani Jind Kaur, also known as Rani Jindan, was a significant figure in Sikh history, serving as the last queen of the Sikh Empire from 1843 to 1846. Born in 1817 in Gujranwala, she became the youngest wife of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, the founder of the Sikh Empire. After Ranjit Singh's death in 1839, Jind Kaur took on the role of regent for her son, Maharaja Duleep Singh. Jind Kaur's reign as regent was marked by political turmoil and conflict with the British East India Company. In 1845, during the First Anglo-Sikh War, she dispatched the Sikh Army to confront the British, leading to the annexation of the entire Punjab in 1849. After her son's dethronement, she faced imprisonment and exile by the British. Despite challenges, Jind Kaur escaped captivity in 1849, disguising herself as a slave girl and finding refuge in Nepal. Her efforts to resist British dominance continued through correspondence with rebels in Punjab and Jammu-Kashmir. She later reunited with her son in Calcutta in 1861, influencing him to return to Sikhism. Jind Kaur's exile took a toll on her health, and she passed away in her sleep on August 1, 1863, in Kensington, England. Denied the opportunity to be cremated in Punjab, her ashes were eventually brought back to India in 1924 and reburied in the Samadhi of Maharaja Ranjit Singh in Lahore. Despite her challenging life and exile, Maharani Jind Kaur's legacy endures as a symbol of resilience and resistance against colonial rule. In 2009, a memorial plaque was unveiled at the Kensal Green Dissenters Chapel, honouring her contributions to Sikh history.

[indian-kahani]

I wrote a thing:

Tell me how it is! It's not for the LGBT fest or anything (ikr shocking) but any feedback would be great!

Once, long ago, in a land long forgotten, there was a princess. She was the pride of her city – her parents loved her, her friends laughed with her, and her people adored her from the bottom of their hearts.

Perhaps, some would say, it was her beauty they all loved. Her smooth skin, the colour of the most expensive cinnamon the traders could buy from neighboring cities. Her hair, deep, silky black as if stained with the finest scholars’ ink, ink made from a hundred different pastes and pigments, blacker than the night sky in the middle of the desert. Her almond-shaped eyes, always lit with joy or mischief or a wise, graceful smile that drew faint crow’s feet in the corners, wisdom that came from love and kindness and experience. Perhaps, it was her fine clothes – edged with gold, embroidered with delicate peacocks and blooming flowers and nature in the midst of spring, rich mulberry, shocking green, sunset yellows and reds and faded oranges – set against her glowing skin and beautiful jewellery, even as she moved it was as if a shimmering world of silken thread moved with her.

Of course not. A wiser one would say, chuckling slowly at the ignorance of his fellow citizen. It’s not just her beauty I love. It’s her character. And indeed, he too spoke nothing but the truth. When the princess smiled, it was a true smile – with hints of fun, and youth, and a life being lived to the full. When she laughed, it was even more real – a laugh like that moment would never come again. She laughed as if she would never laugh again for the rest of her life, living in a whirlwind of passion and light. She spoke with an animated seriousness, treating each second that she was trusted with importance as just that – a trust, one that she had to repay, not a mindless job that could be half-done or passed off to a more-than-willing advisor. She worked night and day, already taking on so many of the responsibilities delegated to the king and queen – tours, inspections, interviews, recruitments, you name it, she had done it. Sometimes, there was the occasional photo of her, exhausted, leaning against the wall or sitting on a garden bench. Her people loved her all the more for it. Whatever she did, they loved her – because she did it with their best interests at heart.

All her little quirks were smiled upon and blessed and occasionally, laughed over. An infamous poet, as often as not it was her fingers, and not her hair, that were stained with the finest scholars’ ink. An intelligent girl, they would say, may god bless her. Her embroidery could rival the palace dressmakers themselves, shimmering thread creating shifting scenes in cloth. Threads, clinging onto her dress, laughed over in the corners of the kingdom, laughter received with a small half-embarassed giggle from the princess as she dusted down her clothes. A good girl, that one, they smiled, it’s good that she has fun while she still can. Everything she did, the people smiled upon her, for it was impossible to do anything else. The princess beautified everything she touched – coaxing music out of even the most worn-down flute, finding a rhythm in the simplest of drums, crafted by a child learning his trade, finding the joy of dance in the bleakest silence. Everything she does, she does it perfectly, they said with love and a hint of an envious sigh.

And as the inky-fingered, thread-covered princess grew up, she lost much that she had once loved. When she became a queen, she lost the freedom she enjoyed so much as a child, lost the time she’d once had to sew beauty into the very fibers of her life, but still: her skin was smooth and dark, her hair was inky black, she wrote her poetry and crafted her music - and still the queen was a happy woman.

For she had all the love of everyone in her kingdom, and their blessings shone down on her like the sun.

I feel like it's a bit long-winded, but idk. Yeah, basically tell me what you think :D

I wrote it a while ago when I was a bit annoyed at the lack of portrayals of Indian princesses/royalty in fiction, I just found it in my drafts now and thought well why not post it lol

[aritheartist]

A Tourist in Delhi 📷

My (mostly) unedited attempts at capturing the Qutub Minar from my trip to the city earlier this year.

Delhi is a peculiar place. It is everything, all at once. I’ve never seen a city with a character as varied as this one. Chaos and calm, DLF buildings and old world charm.

I love how almost no one who lives in Delhi is actually from Delhi but somehow anyone can call it their own. Is anyone visiting Delhi ever really a tourist? I felt like I’ve already lived several lives here. I probably know more about Delhi than the place I actually live in.

Looking at this post here you might assume I loved Delhi. No, I actually hated it. But that’s the thing about it. You can love it, you can hate it, but you can never ever forget it. I love it in a twisted way. Like, I hate it but I’m obsessed. I do not know how to put it into words, I am not a poet.

[flapdoodle-doodle-caboodle]

A royal kitty riding on his royal.. um.. "steed"

[capturingprettythings]

Please like or repost if downloading. Please give credit if you're sharing it online.

[bookishmomsstuff]

Q in Indian women fashion

Indian women’s fashion influences are not only by seeing movie stars but going back in history to the period of the Maharanis(Queens) and the princesses. The invasion of the Indian subcontinent by people from far-off places has influenced women’s fashion trends that have become timeless. Though we could say the fashion world is still evolving, yesteryear trends continue to rule the world of…

[paintingthe-stars]

[exotic-indians]

[thecornercoffeeshop]

Udaipur palace

[husn-e-bahar]

Taaz Dusro ke haatho se pehna jata hai

Bahar: "Haath dusre ke hothe hai lekin himmat apni hoti hai"

Mughal-e-Azam (1960)

[women-throughout-history]

Gayatri Devi

Gayatri Devi, born on May 23, 1919, in London, United Kingdom, was a prominent figure in Indian royalty, politics, and fashion. She was the third Maharani consort of Jaipur from 1940 to 1949 through her marriage to Maharaja Sawai Man Singh II. She has left a significant impact on the cultural and political landscape of India. Gayatri Devi was a trailblazer in Indian politics. In the 1962 parliamentary election, she achieved a historic victory, securing the largest majority vote of any candidate. A member of the Swatantra Party, she served as a prominent critic of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi's government during her 12-year political career. Despite facing political challenges, including imprisonment during the Emergency in 1975, she remained steadfast in her commitment to public service. Her commitment to women's empowerment extended beyond politics. She established schools in Jaipur, including the Maharani Gayatri Devi Girls School, providing education to thousands of girls and women. Her passion for education was evident in her efforts to promote the first steps of development through learning. An avid sports woman, she excelled in polo and shooting, reflecting her adventurous spirit. She was also known for her love of automobiles and was credited with bringing the first W126 model to India.  Maharani Gayatri Devi was listed as one of Vogue's 10 most beautiful women. Crediting her mother as her style inspiration, she said, “she was one of the most fashionable, most independent and most modern Maharanis ever. She always knew the best places to buy anything and she shopped all over the world.” Gayatri was known for her signature chiffon saris, crafted in Lyon, France, which were adorned with pearls and emeralds.  After retiring from politics, Gayatri Devi spent her later years in a quiet life on her large estate, engaging in hobbies and leisure. She passed away on July 29, 2009, due to paralytic ileus and a lung infection

https://www.financialexpress.com/life/lifestyle-meet-gayatri-devi-the-maharani-of-jaipur-who-started-the-trend-of-chiffon-sarees-know-the-politician-who-is-a-passionate-rider-and-a-social-worker-3229152/ (shows images of gayatri) https://books.google.co.in/books/about/A_Princess_Remembers.html?id=5CoWAQAAMAAJ&redir_esc=y (her autobiography)

[schumi-nadal]

Tom Holland & Zendaya - Indian Wells 2024 🇺🇸

"I wanna dance with somebody" 🎤🎾

[thatstolenpayal]

there will never be another devdas again.