‘Hundred rupees, Sat," says Mamosa, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. A sheepish Shatrujeet Singh, aka Sat, looks down at his bowl of dahi. I look inquiringly at Mamosa, or rather Mamu Sahib, Sat’s uncle Indrajit Deo and head of the Shahpura lineage. "When Sat and Jai were kids, we had a rule that anyone who spilled something on a fresh tablecloth had to pay a fine." Across the table, Sheelu Maasi murmurs that it wasn’t kids but certain adults who did most of the spilling... We are breakfasting on the verandah at Nahar Niwas, the Shahpura residence, and gentle banter is very much a part of the menu.

Shahpura Bagh lies midway between Jaipur and Udaipur, an oasis of greenery and water, 30 acres of trees, fields and garden next to the spreading waters of Khirsagar and Pivnia reservoirs. It’s the home of a former royal family, entitled to a nine-gun salute no less, but the present generation lives with its past gracefully. Yes, there are the requisite hunting trophies on the walls, a snarling tiger and a stuffed pangolin, and the family’s intimate knowledge of wildlife probably comes from hours spent stalking ducks and geese, not to mention four-footed beasts, with a gun. But in the present, they are conservationists, trying to protect the wetlands around them, and growing organic vegetables in their home garden.

The fruits of their harvest are part of our marvellous breakfast spread: fresh papaya sits alongside steaming corn fritters; wonderfully crisp bhakri (millet bread) is accompanied by home-churned butter; and perfectly-cooked omelettes appear on demand. And we do justice to it. After all, we earned our meal by waking at sunrise to go out on the lake in a row-boat, watching the thrilling sight of hundreds of water birds swoop and circle in formation as they settled into their winter quarters. The boat brought us close to groups of nakta or comb ducks, the strange horny growth on their bills clearly visible. We circled a small island where pond herons and fruit bats colonised the trees, and nesting white ibises perched on the tallest branches. The sun cast a golden glow on the reeds and lotus pads where bronze-winged jacanas and purple moorhens scuttled in and out. I had a busy time with my binocs and bird book, brushing up forgotten bird lore. After a while, I stopped and just soaked in the winter sun, sky and water. Hot chai awaited us as we came ashore and the sense of well-being was complete.

Our hosts Sat Singh Rathore, a photographer by profession, his wife Maya, a tourism expert, and Sat’s brother Jai, have recently opened up part of their family home and estate to paying visitors. There are only eight rooms for tourists. Meals are generally eaten with the family who also take visitors around the local attractions of which there is quite an array. For those used to the anonymity of hotels, the personalised care that the family lavishes on each guest is a novel experience. But it is one that spoils you for anything less. One quickly warms up to Indrajit Deo and his sisters Mridul Kumari (Sheelu Maasi) and Mahendra Kumari, Sat, Maya, and Jai as we trade funny stories, accounts of the escapades of princes in the past, discuss local cuisine and culture, and squabble about whether we saw a peregrine falcon or a merlin. And to do this around a roaring fire on a chilly night, nursing a single malt, and eating smoky roasted shakarkand makes for a memorable treat.

The personal touch that distinguishes Shahpura is everywhere: Maya, who also supervises the food, surprised us with a chocolate cake and champagne celebration one evening. To his red-faced delight, a guest found out that it was in honour of his birthday, something casually mentioned during the day but filed away in Maya’s busy brain. The champagne followed an unusual musical performance by a group of Bhils from the area. These were not the expected Langa, Manganiyar and Kalbeliya artistes who come from the desert districts but have now become a signature ‘Welcome to Rajasthan’ presence all over the state and abroad. The Bhils were more rustic, dancing for themselves and for the joy of it, rather than for an audience. The beat of drum and thali became more insistent as the night progressed and as the dancers and musicians drank deeply. When we left, they were still dancing.

Shahpura offers both nature and culture to its guests. Whatever they choose to do, the family makes it as enjoyable and effortless as possible. I passed up a visit to a renowned phad (scroll) painter, famous for his visual rendition of the epic of Pabuji, for a baser pleasure—shopping. Along the drive to Shahpura, I’d admired Rajasthani women in their ghagara, the deep folds of the skirt swirling gracefully as they walked. I wanted one too. Shivraj Singh, the assistant manager, accompanies me to a local cloth shop where the owner lays out yards of block-printed cotton, describing which community wore what. Did I want what the Jat women wore or the Meenas or the Bhils? My choice made, there ensues a discussion on the best tailor to do the job in a day. Someone described only as Pappu ki Ma finds some favour, but ultimately it is next-door Shakeelbhai who measures me and delivers the ghagara as promised the next day. I wear it to dinner, happily twirling around and showing off to polite applause. Shahpura, a bustling tehsil headquarters, also supplies made-to-measure mojaris (slip-on shoes) as well as all the sundry articles that can only be found in a rural haat. Exploring the town, with its ruined old palace, geometrically-precise stepwell, and temples jostling for space alongside PCO booths and petrol stations, makes for a good change of tempo.

The surrounding countryside is waiting to be explored too. We set off one morning in a weathered 1952 Willys jeep to nearby Nahar Sagar lake. Nahar Singh, former ruler and great-grandfather of Indrajit Deo, financed the building of this and hundreds of other reservoirs in the early 1900s after coming under the influence of the Arya Samaj. The spirit of public service paid off; revenues increased manifold once farmers could irrigate their fields. We drive along the embankment of the lake, water on one side and green fields on the other, watching birds. Great crested grebes, with their slender necks and graceful bodies, are the highlight for me, but it’s nice to see the full complement of geese, other ducks, herons and storks too. We stop for a picnic at the family farm, a sprawling space with massive old trees, a quiet retreat from urban life.

The farm and the estate have a charming overgrown quality. Manicured lawns and bright flowerbeds give way to denser vegetation that runs wild along the perimeter, providing a haven for wildlife. There are magnificent mahua and khirni trees, wild dates and ber, all of which feed birds, monkeys and other wild things. A jewel of a guesthouse—Umaid Nivas—nestles amidst the woodland and fields, close to the main home. Its six rooms are huge— high ceilings and gleaming lime floors (not limestone, but lime, using a painstaking local technique), four-poster beds and enormous bathtubs. The effect is spacious and serene and the guest who sinks into bed only to emerge two days later can hardly be blamed.

On our last evening, we set out for Dhikola Fort, lately used to run a village school and now back with the family. The fort is partly ruined; blackened towering walls enclose tall grasses where swallows swoop. It is also utterly romantic. We sit out atop the highest point, where sentries once scoured the horizon for signs of danger. It is peaceful now, the setting sun limns a landscape of villages, fields and water tanks. High above as we are, village sounds drift up and away. Sat and Jai tell us their plans, about the American guests who want to use the fort as a setting for a special dinner for four. Thus does Rajasthan’s crumbling heritage find a new lease of life.

Back at the Bagh, we sit down to another lavish dinner, this one crowned by delicious chikoo ice-cream, churned in a bucket. I shouldn’t have another helping but I succumb. This is a holiday, after all. At our feet, Sheelu Maasi’s dogs, Marble and Mishti, look up longingly. They are too well-behaved to beg, but that chikoo ice-cream is worth every beseeching look. "Visit us in summer," says Maya, "and we’ll give you mango ice-cream." By now, the Shahpura family feels like old friends and the thought of coming back, in mango season, suddenly makes summer something to look forward to. L

The information
By road Shahpura is 220 km from Jaipur or Udaipur, about four hours on excellent uncongested roads. If you’re driving from Delhi, turn off NH79 just short of Ajmer, at Nasirabad. Drive on and again turn off the highway at Gulabpura for the last 40km. You could drive the full eight hours straight from Delhi. Or choose a more relaxed option: drive to Jaipur, rest overnight, and then resume the drive next morning.

By train Ajmer (120 km) is the nearest station.
This is a home stay with former nobility — high points are the outdoor activities, great food, and relaxed fun. It’s an ideal rest-stop for tourists on a whistle-stop tour of Rajasthan. It should also be a great weekend destination for people wondering where to take/send their tired visiting NRI relatives.

Accommodation 5 suites and 3 superior double rooms (1 suite and 1 superior in Nahar Nivas, the rest in Umaid Nivas). 
Tariff Suite Rs 7,000; superior double Rs 5,400; inclusive of breakfast and evening safari/cultural show. Lunch (Rs 350) and dinner (Rs 450) are excellent value.
Contact Sat Singh 9828122012, Maya Singh 9828122013, www.shahpurabagh.com

Things to see and do

> Row on Khirsagar lake and look at birds and flowering lotuses.

> Cycle along the Nahar Sagar reservoir embankment and picnic at the farm.

> Visit the Joshi family in Shahpura, acclaimed painters of phad (epic scrolls).

> Ramble through the kitchen garden, identifying vegetables and herbs (watch out for the neurotic pair of geese!).

> Wander through the Shahpura bazaar and buy a pair of mojaris (Rajasthani shoes).

> Sit in the sun with chai or a beer and a good book and find yourself snoozing.

> Soak in the bathtub with the bath salts provided and a glass of wine on hand.