Recently, a mesmerising play was staged in the historic town of Deeg, Rajasthan — a place where marble fountains whisper stories and old palaces breathe with the weight of time. But on this particular evening, the spotlight wasn’t on royalty or grandeur. It was on inspiring and empowering story of Queen Ahilyabai Holkar who would become one of India’s greatest rulers: Maharani Ahilyabai Holkar.
As the play beautifully staged the strong character of Ahilya, few amongst those present there knew the fact that Ahilyabai lost her husband, Khanderao Holkar near Kumher.
The death of her husband was a pivotal event that forever altered the course of her life—and in many ways, Indian history. The audience were mesmerised, some tearful, others thoughtful watching different chapters from her life, right from her childhood, to her marriage and then into her new role as queen. And most were shocked to learn something history often leaves tucked away in the margins:
Her husband died right here in Kumher — not far from Deeg.
A Death That Changed a Dynasty
It was March 24, 1754, and war drums echoed across Kumher Fort, not far from present-day Bharatpur. Khanderao Holkar, heir to the Holkar throne and commander of Maratha forces, was overseeing the siege from an open palanquin. As fate would have it, a cannonball, fired by the defending Jat soldiers, struck him down in an instant.
He never returned to his queen.
Back in Indore, Ahilyabai was devastated. At just 29 years old, she was not only a widow, but a woman standing at the edge of a societal expectation that could have claimed her life: sati.
She prepared for it. She was ready to follow Khanderao into death.
But in that darkest moment, a voice stopped her.
Her father-in-law, Malhar Rao Holkar, broken with grief himself, pleaded with her not to end her life. “If you go,” he told her, “you take my last strength with you.” He saw not just a grieving wife, but a future queen, a leader.
Ahilyabai stepped back from the pyre—and into history.
A Tribute from an Enemy
But the story doesn’t end with grief. It finds an unlikely footnote in compassion and mutual respect.
In a stunning gesture of humanity, it was Maharaja Suraj Mal of Bharatpur—the very ruler whose troops had fired the fatal shot—who ordered the construction of a chhatri (cenotaph) for Khanderao Holkar. Built at the cremation site in the nearby village of Gangar Soli, the memorial still stands, silent and forgotten by most, but sacred in its intent.
Few know it exists. Fewer still visit.
But that chhatri, nestled among mustard fields and village trails, holds a kind of quiet power. It speaks of sorrow, yes—but also of respect across enemy lines, of valor, and of a widow’s strength to rise after the fall.
A Play that Reopened Old Pages
The recent play in Deeg did more than entertain — it reawakened a slumbering chapter of history. For many in the audience, it was the first time hearing of Khanderao’s death in Kumher, or of the memorial in Gangar Soli. It bridged centuries in a single evening, revealing the raw human emotion behind the stoic portraits and gilded statues.
It reminded us that Ahilyabai’s reign of justice and compassion began not in a palace, but in mourning. That her strength was born not of privilege, but of personal tragedy. And that sometimes, leadership doesn’t begin with a coronation—it begins with the decision to keep living.
Where the Past Still Waits
Deeg and the surrounding region, with its crumbling forts and echoing halls, still holds this history in its bones. If you listen closely near Kumher Fort, or visit the lone chhatri at Gangar Soli, you can feel the pulse of a story that ended too soon—and the dawn of a legend who would go on to illuminate an entire kingdom.
So next time you’re in Deeg, don’t just visit the palaces.
Visit the place from where a new history was scripted.
Because in that heartbreak, Ahilyabai Holkar found a destiny which went far leaving a long lasting impact of women leadership in India. And Rajasthan—quietly, reverently—still carries the echo of that choice.