There are luxury hotels, and then there are places that feel like an inheritance. Perched above the revered waters of the Narmada River in central India, Ahilya Fort is not a resort in the conventional sense but a 16th-century fort that still belongs to the family who once ruled from its ramparts. Built by the Holkars of Indore and once the seat of power of Maharani Ahilyabai Holkar, the fort today houses just 19 rooms set across courtyards and terraces overlooking the sacred river, offering something rare in global luxury travel today: privacy rooted in a strong sense of place and history.
Maharaja Richard Holkar, Yuvraj Yeshwant Holkar, and their family welcome travellers not as hotel clients but as house guests, offering meaningful cultural experiences set within living history, personally curated meals cooked largely with fresh produce from their kitchen garden, and warm and intuitive service by their staff members. At Ahilya Fort, one gets a warm feeling of homecoming, as well as a glimpse into the rich life of a bygone era.
Robb Report India got an exclusive experience of the annual Sacred River Festival hosted by the Holkar family. The 2026 edition marked the 300th birth anniversary of Ahilyabai Holkar under the theme “Footsteps Across India,” a tribute to a ruler whose philanthropy spanned the subcontinent. She rebuilt temples destroyed in conflict, endowed shrines from the Himalayas to eastern India, constructed bathing ghats and dharamshalas for travellers, and fostered social harmony across communities. Her guiding principles—dev (the divine), dharm (duty), and desh (nation)—remain strikingly relevant even today.
The Sacred River Festival echoed the era when erstwhile maharajas patronised the arts through temple baithaks and intimate court performances.
The festival opened with a garlanding ceremony at the imposing statue of Maharani Ahilyabai, and an invocation followed—blessings for the river, for the arts, and for the education of girls through the Devi Ahilyabai Bal Jyoti School that serves underprivileged communities in Maheshwar.
With dusk, diyas floated down the Narmada behind the performers. The collective energy—of artists in surrender to their craft and of guests leaning forward in rapt attention—created an inimitable atmosphere.
The Sacred River Festival was conceived more than two decades ago, with a singular aim: to create an intimate setting in which culture and performing arts could be experienced up close.
Workshops during the day introduced guests to artists and their disciplines. A percussionist explained how rhythm mirrors the racing heart; a dancer decoded gesture as language; a musician demonstrated how to use a slide guitar.
In the evening, the performances unfolded at the beautifully decorated Ahilyeshwar temple complex and by the ghat. In keeping with the theme “Footsteps Across India,” this year's lineup of artists came from diverse regions that were touched by Ahilyabai’s far-reaching and long-lasting influence.
Baba Gurmeet Singh ji and group presented Gurbani Kirtan—hymns from the Guru Granth Sahib rendered in classical ragas, dissolving boundaries of faith. Meenakshi Medhi’s Sattriya traced Vaishnava lore through gesture and rhythm, while Jyoti Shrivastava’s Odissi dance-biography of Ahilyabai channeled sculptural grace and storytelling rooted in the Jagannath tradition.
Vidushi Kamala Shankar performed Hindustani music on the Indian slide guitar—an instrument that she invented, inspired by the Hawaiian steel guitar - while Kailash Sisodiya and his troupe presented Bhil Janjatiya Bhagoriya Nritya, a rhythmic folk dance of the Bhil community known for its vitality and deep-rooted social significance.
For the grand finale, Rudra Shankar Mishra of the Banaras gharana brought Kathak alive by the banks of the Narmada, with mesmersing footwork that seemed to converse with the river itself.
Many artists featured were not mainstream names but masters within their fields—keepers of oral traditions, practitioners who have spent decades refining technique through daily riyaaz.
Equally compelling were the guests. Some international travellers returned year after year—a British woman who stumbled upon the festival by chance and now plans her calendar around it. There were authors, architects, entrepreneurs, and former diplomats from the UK, France, Switzerland, the USA, and, of course, from across India.
Luxury today is often measured in thread counts and square footage. At Ahilya Fort, it was measured in time. Time to listen to a raga unfurl without interruption. Time to sit with a Maheshwari weaver and understand age-old techniques of pajani and ochhna. Time to delve into the various symbolisms of Indian mythology, or to attend a book launch in a courtyard where history clings to stone.
To have been fed like royalty, taken leisurely boatrides down the Narmada, to have slept within walls that have witnessed centuries—these were indulgences. But the deeper luxury was space: space to think, to feel, to discover art forms you have never encountered, artists you may not have heard of, ideas that challenge and expand.