India’s former royals reinvent themselves as custodians of heritage and culture

Being a custodian of heritage means caring for cultural resources inherited from royal families and making them useful today. Former royals preserve palaces, art collections, traditional crafts, customs, and historical stories. They no longer govern, but they help keep shared cultural memory alive.

Vadodara’s Radhikaraje Gaekwad illustrates this role. She works to preserve generations of accumulated art and supports traditional crafts. The Maharaja Fateh Singh Museum, housed in the palace, contains more than 30 works by Raja Ravi Varma. Its planned overhaul shows how royal collections can become public cultural assets.

This work matters because heritage can strengthen identity and pride. It also creates new public uses for old royal spaces. Gaekwad combines cultural preservation with social entrepreneurship, including a transgender-run cafe. Other descendants turn palaces into hotels, support museums, or connect historic cities internationally.

After losing political authority, former royal families adapted by converting inherited status and resources into new public roles. They work in culture, tourism, politics, social enterprise, environmental protection, and community development. Their titles remain, but their activities increasingly depend on modern institutions and public engagement.

Radhikaraje Gaekwad preserves royal art and supports traditional crafts while promoting social inclusion through a transgender-run cafe. Her father, Ranjitsinh Jhala, became a civil servant and helped turn former hunting grounds into national parks. Akshita Bhanj Deo converted her palace into a hotel and runs a foundation for marginalised groups.

These examples show reinvention through practical usefulness. Palaces can become hotels or museums, while cultural reputations can support political campaigns or international partnerships. Former royals therefore remain visible by serving as heritage managers, storytellers, entrepreneurs, public figures, and social organisers.

The princely-state system was enormous. Under British rule, more than 565 princely states existed across roughly 40 per cent of the land in India. They were not fully independent countries, but they enjoyed nominal autonomy within the British imperial structure.

Baroda, now Vadodara in Gujarat, was one of the most powerful states. Its royal family ruled before independence and accumulated palaces, art, and cultural influence. That inheritance helps explain why descendants still possess important collections and public visibility today.

The system ended politically when the maharajas joined democratic India after independence in 1947. However, its scale left a lasting cultural and social legacy. Many descendants now use that legacy in museums, tourism, politics, conservation, and social projects. The old map of semi-autonomous states has disappeared, but its institutions and symbols remain influential.

When India became independent in 1947, the princely states joined the new democratic country. The maharajas stopped ruling their territories and became ordinary citizens. This was a fundamental change: hereditary authority gave way to elected government and citizenship under one national system.

Their material and cultural legacies did not disappear. Palaces, art collections, family stories, and public reputations remained. Baroda’s royal family, for example, still oversees cultural work connected with Lakshmi Vilas Palace and the Maharaja Fateh Singh Museum.

The result is a divided legacy. Former royals no longer possess formal sovereignty, yet some remain influential as heritage custodians, politicians, entrepreneurs, and social leaders. Political parties seek their symbolism, while descendants use their resources for museums, tourism, conservation, and community work. Their power changed form from rule to visibility, access, and cultural authority.

Former royal families carry what historian Manu S. Pillai calls cultural capital. Their names connect them to regional history, respected ancestors, monuments, and communities. That recognition can help elected politicians appear rooted in local identity and national tradition, even though royal rule has ended.

The article gives Jyotiraditya Scindia and Diya Kumari as examples. Scindia, a communications minister, comes from the Gwalior dynasty. Diya Kumari, Rajasthan’s deputy chief minister, belongs to Jaipur’s royal family. Their royal backgrounds add symbolic weight to their political careers.

Narendra Modi’s Hindu-nationalist government has also promoted a royal past outside foreign control. Modi laid the foundation stone for a $39 million Museum of Royal Kingdoms near Vadodara. Pillai describes a “quest for heroes” and says the Hindu right is keen to use cultural icons. Royal history therefore becomes political symbolism as well as heritage.

When former royal families put their resources to public use, inherited privilege can produce cultural, economic, and social activity. Palaces become museums or hotels. Art collections attract visitors. Family names open doors for partnerships. Political reputations can also help descendants win elected office or influence public debates.

Vadodara’s palace hosts cultural events, while its Maharaja Fateh Singh Museum is being overhauled and contains more than 30 Raja Ravi Varma works. Akshita Bhanj Deo runs a palace hotel and a foundation for marginalised groups. Radhikaraje Gaekwad supports traditional crafts and a transgender-run cafe.

The results are mixed in public perception. Arti Shukla holds royal families in high regard, but Nishant Kulkarni says their services are no longer needed. Still, their projects can preserve culture, support tourism, create community spaces, and connect past institutions with current social needs.

Democracy can end hereditary authority without erasing hereditary influence. Families retain names associated with regional history, along with palaces, collections, public networks, and stories. These assets create recognition that ordinary citizens may not possess. Influence then operates through elections, cultural work, business, and social projects rather than formal monarchy.

Jyotiraditya Scindia and Diya Kumari show how royal lineage can enter electoral politics. Raseshwari Rajya Laxmi says her title helps open doors, including for a partnership linking Jaisalmer with Carcassonne in France. Gaekwad uses her position to promote heritage and social inclusion.

This influence is not automatically accepted. Some visitors respect royal families, while others see no continuing need for them. Their future role depends on how convincingly they turn inherited status into public benefit. Museums, conservation, community work, and inclusive businesses offer one route from privilege toward service.