For one week only, an ancient Rajasthani stepwell got a reflective sheen

Across an ancient stepwell in Jodhpur, Ayesha Singh’s site-specific installation made up of slender steel structures mimicked the flow of water. The red, earthy textures of the stone juxtaposed with the refined, reflective sheen of the steel, transforming the space into a mesmeric spectacle. Singh, a multidisciplinary artist, is known for her enigmatic kinetic sculptures, performance poetry, sculptural line drawings, and immersive installations with an architectural edge. And in this, it all seamlessly comes together.

For Jodhpur Arts Week (JAW), which was organised by the Public Arts Trust of India (PATI) and concluded recently, Singh had chosen to reimagine Mayla Bagh ka Jhalra—an 18th-century water reservoir commissioned by an unsung patron of architecture and water infrastructure, Gulab Rai—through her artistic lens. Steel arches, which serve as metaphorical gateways between the past and the present, were pitched at varying levels of the stepwell, allowing viewers to interact with or walk through them at will. If you stepped closer, you could see your reflection and the slow drifting clouds, the flitting birds, and the colours of the sunset animating the arches.

At the heart of the installation, however, was Singh’s quiet dialogue between the permanence of the stone structure and the ephemerality of those who built it. It was a subtle gesture that panned our attention from the monument to the maker.

Still I rise

Titled ‘Subterranean Inversion: Structures of Forgetting’, the installation (supported by the RMZ Foundation) referenced 13 stepwells across Rajasthan, Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, and Maharashtra, all created or commissioned by women. These include the Mayla Bagh ka Jhalra, Rani ki Vav, the Adalaj stepwell, Panna Meena ka Kund, and Hadi Rani ki Baori, among others.

“We know the names of some matrons because they’re engraved onto the stone,” notes Singh. “But many others are not recorded. Their stories have survived through oral histories, folklore, and folk music, eventually becoming a part of the collective memory within each region.”

Mayla Bagh ka Jhalra, for instance, was commissioned by Gulab Rai in 1780, a woman of grit and determination whose story remains largely untold. “When she was young, she was sold as a slave,” informs Singh. Over the years, however, Gulab Rai rose through society by establishing a place in the royal courts, first as a concubine and later as a ‘Paswan’, or a confidant to the king. Her ascent, however, did not sit well with the palace elite, and she was resented for upending traditional hierarchies and social norms. As the means to resist her own erasure in history, Gulab Rai went on to commission Gulab Sagar and the jhalra, not only as acts of public service, but also to assert her immortality.

Over the years, the jhalra faded from public memory; many Jodhpur locals were unaware it even existed. Surrounded by haphazardly built residential structures, it had become a dumping ground, its water and steps coated in layers of green moss. Long overlooked, it was first restored to its former glory in 2015 by an Irishman, Caron Rawnsley, and later by the Scwedia Foundation.

Structures of forgetting, acts of remembering

Singh recalls an architect once telling her that, in India, many of us grow up believing that the grand historical spaces and monuments defining the skyline of our cities have all been designed by men. In our collective consciousness, it’s difficult to name even five women who’ve contributed meaningfully to the architectural landscape of India. A stepwell like Mayla Bagh ka Jhalra reveals just how little we know about powerful women who commissioned such structures. This friction between the visible and invisible is one of the overarching themes of Singh’s artistic narrative.

“When women commission stepwells it makes for a very particular action for me,” says Singh. “Subterranean Inversion in the title, comes from the idea of that inversed monumentality, turning underground, under the horizon, away from the eye”—much like the stories of certain female figures in history. “So the work, existing within the cavity of the Jhalra, plays with that very tension to make visible the instability of perception itself—how history, like reflection, changes with position and light.”

Public spaces in India are predominately occupied by male bodies, notes Singh. “But stepwells were among the few public spaces historically accessible to women where they could congregate, collect water, perform rituals, and talk. What once held water, now holds memory—layered, fractured, reflective,” she says. “Subterranean architectures mirror subterranean histories—both buried, both essential, both requiring retrieval.”

The jhalra speaks

When Singh visited the stepwell for the first time in March 2025, she was drawn in by its majestic aura. She sat on the steps observing the jhalra’s structural integrity, its repetitive geometric nuances, textures, and the interplay of shadow and light. The gentle cascading of water descending into the pool below seemed like a rhythmic pulse of history. She absorbed it all, before deciding to install nine sculptural line drawings of steel with chrome plating.

“The entire installation was designed to be reflective,” Singh explains. “It can either mirror or absorb the jhalra onto itself or reflect the light so sharply that it obscures your vision, preventing you from fully seeing what you’re looking at. The work also transforms over the course of the day, responding to shifts in light and perspective—much like history itself, which looks different depending on where you stand.”

Singh captured the stepwell by taking photographs, then transforming them into 2D and 3D formats. “Once I had it in 3D, the jhalra was with me,” she says. “Then I was living in the jhalra for six months without being physically present. I’d stare at it on my computer for many, many hours.” She tried to experiment with various materials, including bamboo, wood, and textile, before choosing stainless steel as her medium.

Once she began working with the local metalworkers, however, she realised the challenge that lay ahead. “The arches were kind of the easier bit,” she shares, “It was actually the water bit that we were experimenting with for the very first time, so a lot of their own artistic license came into play then.” In the end, it was a collaborative effort with metal specialists Kuldeep, Mayank, and Anshul Kularia all working on the project.

Singh is now gearing up for the Singapore Biennale, which will showcase one of her signature site-specific installations that explores the delicate balance between memory and monumentality. Through her art, the stories of women long eclipsed in history are brought into light with intention, ensuring they are acknowledged, remembered, and celebrated.