MAKING OF A CAPITAL
Concept & Visual Research PRAMOD KAPOOR
MALVIKA SINGH RuDRANGSHu MuKHeRjee
New Delhi Making of a Capital
Malvika
Singh
Rudrangshu Mukherjee
Concept & Visual Research Pramod Kapoor
Facing page: The half-built Council House, now the Parliament building.
The largest mass of rock (on Raisina Hill) was chosen as the focus of the city and its central buildings. In the winter of 1913 the writer was sitting with the present Prime Minister on this rock and wondering how a beautiful city could arise from what Lord Curzon described as “the deserted cities of dreary and disconsolate tombs” when the sun setting beneath the rainclouds formed a complete rainbow arching the destined central vista. The good omen then acclaimed has been triumphantly fulfilled.
The last of the Sikh Gurus who lies buried here, when condemned to death by the Emperor Aurangzeb, went to it with a prophecy on his lips that a great white race would come from the West to destroy the Empire of his executioner.
a
Sir Herbert Baker, ARA, FRIBA, chief architect of New Delhi. Excerpts from an article written by him for The Times, published on 18 February 1930, a year before the city’s formal inauguration.
Acknowledgements
Imust begin by thanking Tejbir, who I first met when I was fourteen years old on the athletic field in Modern School, having moved from Bombay to Delhi, for ushering me with care into his large and rambling family. I watched with great curiosity from my vantage point, listening to many a story and historical anecdote, silently absorbing the details of occasional family sagas as they unravelled, savouring the intriguing nuances. I was often astonished by some of what I saw, sometimes confused by the social and cultural differences and responses I was unfamiliar with. It was a tangled and rich canvas with endless patterns and hues. My small nuclear family of professionals was in sharp contrast to my new home.
Jaisal and Anjali, my son and daughter-in-law, have pushed me into doing this book and feel very strongly about the sad fact that none of the Indian participants, the builders of New Delhi, have been honoured and celebrated by us in India. I thank them for being my staunchest critics and hope they will carry their legacy forward.
Vishvjit Singh, a long-suffering friend, who is amongst the best read and informed when it comes to recent history and politics, read
the first draft and helped put it into some order; Yusuf Ansari, a young faithful friend helped me with the final touches to the text and captions at a time when I felt a bit weary; Anabel and David Loyd, very much a part of my extended family, found me old books that had gone out of print, lugged them across from London and David was the only other person who read the manuscript and made his comments with no holds barred! Many thanks.
Richa, my editor at Roli Books – patient, firm and a true professional – was cheerful and never stressed; Pramod was always there, as enthused as I, and committed to accessing and acquiring whatever visual material this book demanded and, most important, he cut no corners; and Rudrangshu Mukherjee, for his lucid essay, establishing why the decision was taken to move the capital from Calcutta to Delhi: to them all my gratitude. It was a wonderful group to work with.
Malvika Singh New Delhi, 2009
A Capital Idea
In memory of Sir Sobha Singh and the unsung Indian builders of imperial Delhi
It was Priya Kapoor who came to see me with an idea to do a book about the life and times of the Indian builders of New Delhi, the contractors who had converged on Delhi from areas far away in what is now Pakistan, looking for more substantive professional experience that would enhance their prospects and futures; men who were trustworthy and who worked diligently with the team of Delhi architects to create an imperial capital. Many uprooted their families and settled in this new ‘town’.
My husband’s great-grandfather, Sujan Singh, accompanied by his son, Sobha Singh, came to Delhi in 1911 and worked on his first project of levelling land for the Delhi durbar. From the time I got married to Tejbir in 1971, and was introduced to ‘Papaji’, Sir Sobha Singh, an extraordinary person with a mind of his own, myriad interests and a mine of anecdotal information that stemmed from his wide experience of the gradual unfolding of an important slice of urban history, my interest in the life and times of this very special man began to obsess me. He was so unusual, so unpredictable, so fair and upright, so urbane and gracious, so warm and genuinely affectionate, and most important, he was without prejudice. I was immediately drawn to Priya’s suggestion and agreed to research the lives of the five remarkable men, Sir Sobha Singh, Sardar Bahadur Baisakha Singh, Narain Singh, Dharam Singh and Seth Haroun, believing that their tireless journey was now part of my legacy too.
Facing page: Each piece of stone in the Government House, now the Rashtrapati Bhavan, was meant to exude an imperial aura.
Some weeks later, Pramod Kapoor, while discussing the book with me, suggested we collaborate to produce another one on the building of imperial Delhi. My initial reaction was, ‘why another book on the building of New Delhi’, but as we spoke and the stories began to tumble out, I was drawn to the idea. I am neither an architect, nor a scholar or a historian, but as a Dilli-walli, I do have an abiding interest in my city and its avatars as well as a profound sense of belonging. Some may ask, as I asked myself too, ‘does that give you the license to do a book?’ After some consideration, my answer was simple – ‘Yes, why not!’ This book grew as a joint venture among people like us who love the city, who are concerned about its conservation, development and future, who are neither presenting an intellectual criticism nor a judgemental commentary on the architectural styles, nor delving into the complex political and social context within which this city rose out of a sprawling landscape around Raisina Hill. It is a personal expression of ‘the making of a capital’, dedicated to my grandfather-in-law, Sir Sobha Singh.
My first step was hesitant. I began to query and question some relatives, members of the clan, Khushwant Singh, Gurbux Singh, my mother and father-in-law, Amarjit and Bhagwant Singh, other friends and acquaintances of both our families who lived here in the early days of the ‘city’, many who settled in this new, quiet place after Independence, some who, after retiring from service, adopted Delhi as their last home and resting place, and also a group of the new generation, the rooted Dilli-wallahs, born without the baggage of the need to be critical of an imperial city that was conceived for and dedicated to the alien, imperial colonial power – young men and
women who have great pride in the many ‘cities’ and histories of an extraordinary metropolis.
I am privileged to have lived in New Delhi for forty-seven years. I have been a part of its growth and change from being a rather dull, bureaucratic government ‘town’, peppered with politicians who were aliens here, to the cultural and intellectual capital of India over six decades. In the late fifties and sixties, there was a gracious dignity about Delhi. There were no uncouth security forces sporting weapons, protecting our elected representatives. Social climbing and that kind of upward mobility had not reached the suffocating proportions it has today. New Delhi had a laid-back ambience of a small town. It was a reclusive, compound city with wide avenues lined on either side with footpaths for pedestrians and large shady trees to keep the cool. It was not spilling over with an unmanageable population of both man and mobile machines. It was, in some ways, isolated from the complex and active culture of the older city, Shahjehanabad, and in contrast therefore, a trifle sterile, cold and disconnected, when set against its ‘companion’ city that was deeply rooted in its history and in the vivacity of its tested traditions.
From living those special and wonderful, rather insular and private lives, to today, the changes that many of us have witnessed, and felt, have been wide-ranging and often catastrophic! From emotional upheavals and contortions, growing pains and endless adjustments that were made to deal with the influx of people from across India, to the business of extending the boundaries in an attempt to embrace the differences with compassion, allowing the intricate, protective patchwork of many shades and hues to rule us and our lives, the experience has been rewarding despite the occasional miscalculations and errors of judgement. This hugely energetic, lively,
contemporary metropolis, forever pushing the pace and the frontiers, constantly reaching out, represents the heart, the very dil and core of India – Dilli.
I remember nostalgically, the sound of wailing jackals at our gate every night and cobras wandering in the large open gardens that encircled our home. Sparrows, parrots, pigeons, koels, peacocks, red-wattled lapwings, birds of prey and more, shared our space. To come across a mongoose was normal. We never locked the front door except at night. In the summer we slept out on the flat roof under a canopy of stars wrapped in damp sheets to keep the blistering heat off our bodies. The strong winds called ‘loo’, hot and laden with dust, suffocated us in the daytime but the onslaught was invariably followed by a shower of rain, a relief we always looked forward to as we ran out into the open and drenched ourselves with clean, heaven-sent cooling water. Life was safe. Life was content. Life was ordered and there was not much that was unpredictable.
Irwin Road was where we went to buy vegetables and fruit; Gole Market had a great outlet for ‘fresh’ fish; Bengali Market had the best chaat; Connaught Circus the best shopping that ranged from Chinese shoemakers to fine tailors who got their styles from Saville Row, to sari shops, jewellers, restaurants, and more; Janpath was where you got a variety of knick-knacks; India Gate was where you went to eat ice-cream; and the Ring Road, skirting both the old and the new cities, was the fast route to Delhi University. At one end of Janpath, at the edge of a rotary that sported Jinnah’s home as well as the Claridges, sat Baikunth, the ‘paradise’ Sobha Singh had built for himself, designed by Walter George, my husband’s family home. At the other end, just where the avenue joined the inner circle of
Connaught Place, was Malhotra Building, bought by my maternal grandfather on one of his visits to Delhi from Lahore!
Sujan Singh Park, where my husband grew up and where we now live, with uncles and aunts, cousins, nieces, nephews and grandnieces and -nephews as our ‘neighbours’, was virtually at the outer fringe of South Delhi beyond which lay Lal Dora villages and open spaces all the way to Mehrauli. This apartment complex was built by Sobha Singh to house officers of the British Army during the war. At the time of Partition, families fleeing Pakistan were invited by Papaji to stay till they found appropriate accommodation. Today Sujan Singh Park is in the heart of town, in what is referred to as Lutyens’ Delhi (sic), a coveted private estate where three generations of Sir Sobha Singh’s family live.
Circa 2009. The beauty of Delhi and its many Dillis remain. In all that surrounds us in this layered and historical city, there are some things that sadden me. Instead of honouring this extraordinary national legacy, a succession of careless municipalities led by uninitiated senior officers and disinterested bureaucrats have allowed profound damage to happen in their desperate, unthinking quest to ‘modernize’. In the process, they have killed and destroyed a great deal. There are very few politicians who have a strong belief in preserving the edifices, symbols and spaces that represent the changing time and moments in our history. Jawaharlal Nehru and Indira Gandhi had that deep sense of belonging and set up institutions to keep the legacies alive, hoping they would grow and adjust to meet contemporary needs and requirements. They were clear about the imperatives that compelled the preservation of our diverse and wealthy natural wilderness spaces. They respected the built, manmade heritage that symbolizes our plural and rich tradition.
Unfortunately, preservation and conservation are on the backburner. Ineffective learning processes and faulty, inadequate curricula have managed to relegate all the subjects that generate pride in a society, to the realm of inconsequence. Our National Archives are in a mess, much having been eaten by termites and silverfish, the extremes of temperature and the damp. It was easier to access and buy material for this book from archives and libraries abroad than from here, where it all happened. Sixty years after Independence, most government-operated museums are in an abysmal condition. Indian experts in the many fields of art and culture have fled to institutions across the world where their skills are recognized and celebrated. Here, the repositories of the many dimensions of our civilization lie wallowing in abject neglect.
Back to the book. Pramod had begun to source photographs from libraries and institutions across the world, continued to do so on every visit overseas, and sifting through endless material, put together a fine, unusual collection. There are some additional photographs from private unpublished collections. During his forays, he found press clippings of the period, references to the building of the imperial capital as well as many opinion pieces that have found their way into the book and have added a charming dimension. The subject and its documented materials are both vast in scale and depth, leaving an opportunity for many more publications. This is by no means ‘the final word’. It has been more a labour of love, a personal view and visual walk through the process of the building of a capital in the last century.
Malvika Singh
An article in the Statesman, on 8 February 1931, appreciating the grandness of the scale, the unsurpassable architecture, and the human will and effort that made New Delhi possible.
Dusting an old book
The history of the making of New Delhi is safely stored in the vaults in London. Debates relating to the shift of capital from Calcutta to Delhi, documents on the selection of site, the acquisition of land, appointing the architects and records of every stage of the building process are meticulously archived in various institutions across Britain. After all, building of New Delhi was an exercise by the Empire to show off its pomp and power to the rest of the world.
After Independence, we inherited this piece of power as the capital of independent India. Sadly, we did not inherit any material documenting this aspect of our city’s history, not even photocopies.
Being a ‘sepia junkie’ I find a new high every time I discover historical documents and images that are not easily accessible to us in India. Britain with its long-shared history with India provides a vast opportunity. As a publisher interested in publishing books on accessible history of India, I look for material on variety of subjects. Some materialize soon, while the quest for others continues until I keep sifting through the same material and get a feeling that now there is very little left to discover. I am often proved wrong, however, as new images often crop up after a book is published. I have learnt to live with the disappointment but the search continues.
The idea finally took shape when I was looking to improve topography images of India towards the end of the research for our book India: Then & Now. I was at the archives of the Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA), London, and asked for the images of some prominent sites and cities of India. Many boxes full of glass negatives were made available to me. As luck would have it, one box contained some of the most amazing aerial images of Delhi, several images of the partially built Parliament House, North and South Block, and Rashtrapati Bhavan – all unpublished. I think the seeds for the book were sown that day.
I cannot say with accuracy when I started my quest for images journeying the making of New Delhi. I do, however, remember
meeting Jonathan Makepeace, who is a curator at RIBA, soon after the 9/11 attack on New York. His name at that time of global tension stuck in my mind. It follows that I must have procured the first image for the book in 2001. Extensive research at the British Library, the Institute of South Asian Studies, and the University of Cambridge, yielded other brilliant material.
At the British Library newspapers archive in Colindale, I found clippings from the vintage issues of The Times, the Daily Telegraph and the Morning Post. They form, in my opinion, the most charming part of the book. At the Mary Evans Picture Library I found old issues of the Illustrated London News and the Sphere. These images illustrate the social events in the book. The archive is owned by Mary Evans, a charming lady of eighty-two years, who still pays a visit to the archive every day with her dog, Nina. She is a legend. Kiran, my wife, and I could not help but get a picture taken with her. For us, it is a true heirloom.
With this material I approached Malvika Singh, grand daughterin-law of Sir Sobha Singh, the most prominent builder of Delhi, to write the text. She went much beyond just providing the text. For her immense contribution, this book really belongs to her.
Rudrangshu, with whom I have had the fortune of working on two earlier books, readily agreed to write an essay on the shifting of the capital. His scholarship greatly enhances the value of this book.
Richa Burman, my colleague in the editorial provided enormous support. As a very able coordinator, she often argued to the point of perfection. Her contribution is greatly acknowledged along with that of Nandita, Neelam, Supriya and Mondal.
With this book, we have brought back a very small fraction of the piece of history related to the making of our capital. If this exercise encourages the rest of it to be brought back, I would consider our work to be worthwhile.
Pramod Kapoor
LOOKING FOR GROUND
Looking for an appropriate site, the ‘expert committee’ had a gruelling schedule as they traversed the environs around Shahjehanabad and east of the Jumuna. Edwin Lutyens said about those forays, ‘fauna of all description, buck of all sorts, baboons, monkeys, jackals, hare, porcupine, water snakes, great fish, great tortoises which eat babies, snakes, bats, flying fox, vultures, weird birds and many lovely ones, a lizard of sorts, yellow and dry and three feet long. The elephant. Tigers at Jeypore, fresh caught and angry, a black panther, hyena and then a host of tame birds and animals.’
By the 2nd of May 1912, the committee was nearly convinced that the location should be south of Shahjehanabad, near the village of Malcha. Its altitude, water table, its virgin soil had passed muster for the future health of the proposed city in contrast to the area along the banks of the river, where flooding would be a problem; at the durbar site there was a paucity of land for expansion, and other real problems of drainage, sanitation, surface alignment, and the price of limited land.
By December that year a controversy on the Delhi project had triggered a debate in the House of Commons where grieved architects and town planners used rumour to turn the mill and in the course of the debate in Parliament, the King questioned the appointment of Lutyens and George S.C. Swinton, asking for Henry Vaughan
Lanchester to be sent to India. He demanded more information on the progress and plans and emphasized his desire to involve Indian craftsmen in the exercise and to give the design the appropriate aesthetic. At the same time, Sir Bradford Leslie, an engineer by profession and associated with projects in India, spoke at the Royal Society of Arts where he elaborated on an idea that became a serious point of discussion for a while. He suggested damming the river to create a lake to hold surplus water and then transform the swamplike riverbed of the dry season – a breeding ground for mosquitoes carrying malaria – into a parkland on the edges of the lake that would have bathing ghats. This too was raised in the Commons. Eventually, the expert committee rejected the proposal.
Lord Hardinge had surveyed the southern site from the top of the observatory, the Jantar Mantar, and appreciated the large tract of under-populated land that could be acquired more cheaply than that of the northern site. The southern area was relatively unencumbered with ruins of the past, relocation would not be a huge task there and it had ample space for the expansion of the capital. After much deliberation and considering the various ideas and suggestions, the expert committee and its multi-disciplinary advisers recommended the southern site where the new imperial capital would dominate the landscape.
Facing page: A map published in the Sphere on 8 February 1913 showing the two locations under discussion for the building of the new capital.
In 1921, reservations about the shift and the construction of additional buildings were reinforced by mounting defence expenditure and the loss of imperial revenue through falling international exchange rates. However, the decision of building the new capital at Delhi was upheld.
THE INAUGURAtion
The inauguration celebrations and many festivities lasted two weeks with the viceregal couple hosting the events. The timing too was historic. That week, the first group of delegates who had participated in the Round Table Conference in London to devise the modalities for ‘self rule’, had returned to Delhi. It seemed clear that a transition of power was being carefully considered, the
details were being worked upon and therefore, the monumental complex Lutyens and Baker had built as the seat of imperial power, was on the verge of being ‘redefined’. Instead of representing the Crown, these remarkable buildings would soon be the symbolic point, the ‘centre of power’, from where Indian self-rule would be initiated and from where India would carve out her own future.
Lord and Lady Irwin, as representatives of the King-Emperor, presided over formal banquets, informal lunches, garden parties, polo matches, evenings built around party games and charades, investiture ceremonies with all the accompanying regalia, and more, making those days memorable. The splendour and pageantry was unmatched. One of the viceroy’s guests, Bishop Gore is believed to have summed it up by exclaiming in humour, ‘When I get home
carriage to the podium, where 5,000 guests and many retainers had assembled, was truly grand from all reports. Once the speeches were over, the pillars were ceremoniously uncovered, accompanied by the strains of God Save the King. That was the first formal event.
A people’s fete was organized in Old Delhi by the Indian builders. Pipers played within the Red Fort walls. Below the battlements facing the river, horsemen indulged in tent-pegging, musicians played and
I shall suggest that Edward Irwin be impeached for exceeding the King in grandeur!’
On 10 February 1931, the unveiling of the four Dominion Columns, presented by Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, with a thirty-one gun salute booming through space, supported by massed bands and trumpets heralding the arrival of the viceregal
sang, jugglers and acrobats performed, and this magical spectacle, with all the ingredients of a large-scale Indian mela, displayed the many levels of India and her fine, complex civilization.
Above: Tiffin on the lawns – a viceregal garden party during ceremonies on 10 February 1931. (The Sphere, 14 March 1931.)
Media reports enthusiastically narrate the proceedings of what they termed ‘the inauguration ceremony of the imperial capital’, when the dominions columns were unveiled before the secretariat blocks.
The Times, London 11 February 1931
A report solemnly conveys the inauguration of the All-India War Memorial, which pays tribute to the martyrs who died in the Afghan War and in the Great War.
The Times, London 13 February 1931
The viceroy and vicereine seen leaving in the viceregal carriage (now the presidential carriage) accompanied by the viceroy’s bodyguard after unveiling the statue of King George V in 1939. In less than ten years, the British left India and the statue was removed soon after. The vacant cupola now serves as an aesthetic accompaniment to the memorial arch.
A set of stills from a short news film of 15 August 1947, when the people of free India took over the most potent symbol of alien rule in New Delhi. Seen here is a huge crowd surrounding the Rashtrapati Bhavan with the Indian flag flying high before it. Meanwhile, police on horseback try to control the excited crowd.
Breaking the cordon, people rush into the imposing entrance of the Parliament House as Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru requests them to allow the procession to pass. A few years later, the iron gates would again close on the general public and the area would be declared a high-security, ‘VIP’ zone.
A photograph of Sir Edwin Lutyens, surrounded by objet d’arts, four years before his death.
PHOTO CREDITS
British Library, London: 6, 78, 79, 80-81, 90, 91, 93, 116, 132, 142, 143, 144-145, 158-159, 164, 174, 194, 211 (left; right)
British Pathe Limited, London: 238-239
Central Public Works Department, New Delhi: 104, 105
Centre for South Asian Studies, University of Cambridge: 77, 82-83, 84-85, 112 (left; right), 126-127, 139, 155 (top), 157, 161, 163, 165 (below), 170, 176, 177, 180-181, 208
Getty Images: 29, 30-31, 51, 228-229, 237 (top)
Mary Evans Picture Library, London: 128-129, 195, 196, 197, 198, 216, 217, 218-219, 225
Private Collection: 16, 21, 23, 28, 43, 45, 60-61, 62-63, 76, 88, 89, 92, 94-95, 96-97, 98-99, 106-107, 108, 109, 110, 113 (top left; below left; top right), 114-115, 119, 122-123, 130, 133, 141 (top; below), 160, 166, 167, 168, 171, 173, 175, 188, 189, 190, 191, 210, 212, 213 (top; below), 220-221, 222-223, 224, 230-231, 232-233, 236 (right), Endpaper
Royal Institute of British Architects Library Photographs Collection, London: Front cover (top; below), 2, 10, 13, 14-15,46, 75 (top), 86, 87, 100-101, 102-103, 111, 113 (below right), 117, 118, 120 (left; right), 121, 134-135, 136-137 (top; below), 138, 147 (top), 148-149, 150, 151, 152-153, 169, 172, 178, 179, 182, 183, 184-185, 186-187, 192, 193, 199, 200-201, 202, 203, 204, 205 (top; below), 206, 207 (left; right), 211 (top), 236 (left), Back cover
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Construction work was suspended during the World War I years. As late as 1920, nearly ten years after the formal declaration by the King-Emperor of India, critics in Britain did not want Delhi to be the capital.
After much protest from the citizenry of Britain, the total revised cost of the making of New Delhi totalled ` 13.07 crore.
The Viceroy’s House [now Rashtrapati Bhavan] stands in the midst of an estate of 330 acres. Its construction absorbed 4½ million bricks, nearly 1½ million cubic feet of stone, 7,500 tons of cement, and 1,350 tons of iron and steel.
It possesses 340 rooms, 1½ miles of corridors, 227 columns, 35 loggias, 37 fountains, 14 lifts, and 300 telephones.
Praise for the book
“Beautiful and pathbreaking… A mustbuy for Delhi-dwellers, city planners and lovers of history.” – Time Out
“What sets this book apart is the incredible wealth of rare and unpublished material… The making of a Capital was a fascinating odyssey, and so is this book. It explains the concepts behind the broad avenues, the grand buildings, the material used, the choice of greenery, the design and the layout.” – Dilip Bobb in India Today
A Mughal-style miniature painting by A.G. Shoosmith that depicts Viceroy Lord Irwin holding a durbar where Lutyens offers him the model of Government House and Baker, that of Council House. Behind them stands the chief engineer, Alexander Rouse.