Literally meaning “hidden land” in Bundelkhandi, Orchha was a lush green stretch by the river Betwa that so captivated Bundela Rajput chieftain Rudra Pratap in the 16th century that he chose it as the new capital of Bundelkhand. Today, the vast landscape of Orchha is dry and desolate. It hasn’t rained for four years and there are fears of an impending drought. The Betwa, once a draw for river rafting amateurs who wanted to taste the rapids before graduating to more testing waters, is now little more than a stagnant pool full of boulders and filth.

Yet, weeks after the “tourist season” ended in March, the resorts are still full, roadside restaurants active and fresh steams of backpackers and family groups descend from buses every day. Most of them club Orchha with their trip to Jhansi, others take it in on their way to Khajuraho. A small percentage, however, is simply here on a “bootpacking” holiday—a weekend drive away from the madding crowd of the city.

No place offers a greater getaway from life lived on the treadmill. Despite the Coca-Cola umbrellas outside restaurants advertising “Corean” cuisine, Orchha seems to have changed little since the halcyon days of the Bundela kings. No honking cars, no traffic jams—the silence is alive with forgotten sounds of birds leaving the roost at dawn, of crickets at dusk and of local boys plunging into the river. Every place and palace in Orchha is within walking distance and often, within sight.

Inside the historical monuments, the past moves closer. The main draw is the 16th century fort built by Rudra Pratap’s son, Bharticharan. It encloses a number of palaces—Jehangir Mahal, Raja Mahal and Rai Praveen Mahal. Made from stone, the fort has the flamboyance of Mughal architecture, with multiple arches, cupolas and domes that rise into the sky—a treat for palace buffs. The Jehangir Mahal, built to commemorate the emperor’s visit to Orchha in the 17th century, offers a breathtaking architectural treat—a series of trellised windows through which gusts of wind but no light enters the dark rooms. The poetry in stone is matched by the fading murals in Raja Mahal, the palace of the devout king Madhukar Shah. The palaces are full of dark, narrow staircases, hidden nooks and a multitude of turrets and chambers that create that “once upon a time” atmosphere storytellers love.

The Rai Praveen Mahal, however, is about a tale of love. It was the residence of the paramour of Raja Indramani (1672-76), a woman so beautiful and talented that Emperor Akbar sent for her in Delhi. According to local lore, she so impressed Akbar with her love for Indramani that he sent her back to Orchha. The Sheesh Mahal, which now houses an MP Tourism hotel and restaurant, dates to the 18th century and was a local king’s country resort. High on its façade are blue tiles that glint in the light. Once, the entire palace was covered in similar tiles.

And then, there are palaces that became temples—another subject for local storytellers. The Ram Raja temple, the only one in which Ram is worshipped as a king and not a god, was once the palace of Madhukar Shah. The Sunder Mahal, a small palace now in ruins, is a place of pilgrimage for Muslims. It was here that Dhurjaban, a descendent of Madhukar Shah who converted to Islam to marry a Muslim girl in Delhi, spent his last days in prayer. Apart from palaces and temples, the kings built cenotaphs by the Betwa. A group of 15 cenotaphs retain their ancient grandeur. These, like the palaces, defy the afternoon temperature by remaining cool and breezy.

The breeze from the Betwa fills the riverside in the evening, carrying with it sounds of music. Most resorts have local musicians performing on the terrace or by the poolside so that the sunset is filled with song—earthy Bundelkhandi tunes that carry far into the night without any mikes or electronic instruments. Songs that remind all who hear that they are in the land of kings.