Opinion Only spectacle, no substance

Note on which Parliament’s special session closed — communal slurs from a ruling party MP — disabuse us of any notions of specialness or newness

post-colonial identity of India, colonialism, Lutyens Delhi, Lutyens Delhi key element, Indian buildings, Indian monuments, British Raj, Mughal architecture, India heritage and culture, JL Nehru, constitution of India, Constituent Assembly, new parliament building, political architecture, indian express news

The modern view of states, as reflected in buildings associated with political power, was that of a sophisticated panorama. This is how the British Raj in the late colonial period began presenting itself as a regime with superior cultural acumen for recognising and educating the “ignorant natives” about the best features of our heritage. (Express File Photo)

Manoj Kumar Jha

September 25, 2023 07:55 AM IST First published on: Sep 25, 2023 at 07:55 AM IST

In ancient and medieval cities, monarchs and city administrators created landscapes and public spaces and used architecture to impress their subjects and signal their power. Many used architecture to draw legitimacy when it was in short supply. They “renewed” these landscapes, sometimes using the elements or debris of what was dilapidated or what they had actively destroyed, to create the “new”. This is what led to commentators like Nehru describing national cultures and landscapes as palimpsests upon which layers upon layers of culture were drawn.

A key element of Lutyens Delhi was the circular and panoramic building, which was a blend of Western and Indian architectural influences. As the seat of the Imperial Legislative Council, Bhagat Singh rightly understood it to be a symbol of imperialism and threw pamphlets and low-intensity bombs in defiance, prior to voluntarily submitting to arrest and prosecution by the British.

However, on August 15, 1947, when Nehru made the “Tryst with destiny” speech, the building was transformed into the seat of the Constituent Assembly of India. Therein were conducted often difficult, sometimes contested, but always poignant debates that gave us our Constitution. The deliberations of the Constituent Assembly transformed this circular building into a symbol of the post-colonial identity of India.

When the Constitution was promulgated on January 26, 1950, the same building became the seat of the Parliament of India. The aesthetics were altered radically to highlight features that were a testament to the values and principles of the new Indian state.

The builders of the new Parliament building, in which the Parliament of India convened a special session between September 18 and 22, seem to think that the past is a different country that can be belittled. The installation of the Sengol, said to be given by the British as a symbol of the transfer of power, is reflective of the confused thinking about post-colonial history and heritage. The regime fails to realise that the new environment to which they have handed democratic processes is not only about technical and aesthetic elements.

It is not always necessary to bring down a building or icon in order to challenge the intention of its creators. We have to understand that buildings are like surfaces on which different meanings can be ascribed. And so it is in this context that we need to evaluate the place of the new Parliament building in our contemporary history. If the proceedings of the last couple of days are any indication, then we can perhaps conclude that while buildings may have changed, the style of governance has not. Though the more progressive intention of the women’s reservation Bill is welcome — and is the reason we supported it — the Bill remains just that, an intention. One did not know it was being introduced even days before the session, the various suggestions to make it inclusive have been disregarded, and finally and most importantly, one does not quite know when or if at all it will be implemented.

While the top leaders indulge in the spectacle of political architecture, every citizen of India knows in their heart the profound political importance of symbolic architecture. If the purpose of building grand architectural heritage with humongous statues and buildings is to effectively destroy the built expressions of India’s cumulative history of struggle and its composite culture, then every temple building in which only some can enter, each statue of Ambedkar that is desecrated, each mazaar and mosque that is destroyed, and each bulldozer that flattens homes will become a monument to the indignity and humiliation of the toiling and powerless masses. The new Parliament building offers no consolation to those who mourn the renaming of streets and cities, who were forced to hide behind walls and curtains, walk hundreds of miles in abjectness, and swept off the streets like garbage.

The shameful note on which the special session closed — the shocking communal slurs and insults from a ruling party MP towards one of our Muslim colleagues — has already disabused us of any notion that a new building stands for anything “new”.

These wounds are sure to heal one day. The future regimes would do well to remember that the construction of expensive architectural spectacles does not necessarily translate into moral legitimacy. The pyramids and mummies in the Egyptian necropolises are testimony to that. Historians know this better than politicians — but sometimes, the truth about moral ugliness and historical imperfection is a better heritage than cosmetic falsehoods.

The writer is Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha), Rashtriya Janata Dal