History, as they say, is written by the victors. And in India, where the story of independence is told through grand speeches, mass movements, and towering nationalist leaders, the men who shaped the nation from within often fade into the shadows. The maharajas — those bejewelled, elephant-riding figures caricatured as symbols of decadence — are rarely acknowledged as nation-builders. Yet, within their gilded palaces were rulers with grand visions, men who played a pivotal role in crafting India’s educational systems, industrial frameworks, and political awakening long before the British packed their bags and left.
Among them were two fascinating figures: Maharaja Sayaji Rao Gaekwad III of Baroda and Maharaja Lakshmeshwar Singh of Darbhanga. These rulers, caught in the paradox of colonial rule, walked a tightrope — one foot in British favour, the other in defiance. They modernised their territories, educated their people, and in their own ways, chipped away at the empire that sought to control them. Their legacies, though overshadowed, demand a second look.
Imagine being plucked from obscurity and thrust onto a throne at the tender age of twelve. That was Sayaji Rao Gaekwad III’s reality when the British, eager for a compliant ruler in Baroda, plucked him from a farming family and anointed him king. His early years were spent under the watchful eye of a British tutor, drilled in languages and politics, moulded into the ideal colonial ally. But Sayaji Rao was no puppet. Instead, he became one of India’s most subversive rulers.
Education became his weapon. At a time when literacy was a luxury, he made primary education free and compulsory in Baroda — the first Indian state to do so. He funded the education of bright young Indians abroad, most notably B. R. Ambedkar, the man who would later draft India’s Constitution. But his ambitions weren’t just academic. A discreet patron of revolutionaries, he channelled funds into the nationalist movement while maintaining a polite front for his British overlords. His “indulgent” international travels were, in fact, strategic meetings with Indian expatriates and anti-colonial thinkers who would help shape the freedom struggle.
While Sayaji Rao was pushing education in the west, Lakshmeshwar Singh of Darbhanga was reimagining governance in the east. His was an empire of wealth, but rather than hoarding it, he invested in political and social reform. A key financier of the Indian National Congress in its early years, he played a crucial role in sustaining the independence movement.
When the British tried to suppress the Congress’s 1892 convention by denying them a meeting space, it was Lakshmeshwar Singh who purchased land for them, outmanoeuvring colonial officials. In legislative councils, he was a voice against economic exploitation, openly denouncing unfair taxation that favoured British industries over Indian ones. Long before Swadeshi became a rallying cry, he was already questioning the economic chains that bound India.
These rulers were not anomalies. Across India, princely states became unlikely laboratories for modernisation. Mysore electrified its cities with hydroelectric power while the Wadiyars pioneered industrial projects. Travancore built schools and hospitals, setting literacy rates higher than most of British India. Baroda, under Sayaji Rao, functioned as a model state, proving that Indian rulers could govern better than their colonial 'civilisers'.
Their contributions extended past borders. These princes, rather than being idle beneficiaries of British rule, were laying down the groundwork for an independent India’s institutions. The universities they funded, the economic policies they trialled, and the administrative systems they refined all fed into the republic that would later emerge.
Yet, post-independence India brushed them aside. The story of unification became one of conquest, with princely states absorbed into the Republic under Sardar Patel’s iron will. The narrative that followed cast these rulers as feudal relics; as obstacles rather than architects. The truth, however, is far more complex.
Sayaji Rao Gaekwad III and Lakshmeshwar Singh reshaped their kingdoms while undermining the colonial power that sought to control them. Their legacies aren’t etched in grand statues or military victories, but in the very institutions that define modern India. To revisit their stories is to reclaim a forgotten chapter of India’s history — one where rulers, bound by tradition yet driven by progress, left behind a blueprint for governance that continues to influence the nation today. Their story is one as much of resistance as reinvention, proving that history, much like power, is rarely as straightforward as it seems.
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