Indian democracy in brick and mortar

The story of how the Indian Parliament was built after the capital moved from Calcutta to Delhi is a riveting account of a building that radiated power, and later became the centre of Indian democracy

Housing the Republic: A Biography of the Indian Parliament

By Sobhana K Nair

Published by Bloomsbury

238 pages ₹699

 The spokesperson of a major political party that is a member of the ruling National Democratic Alliance (NDA) could barely contain her disappointment. Walking through the new Parliament building’s “Sangeet Deergha”, a gallery “showcasing India’s musical instruments heritage” she, a well-known designer, blurted almost involuntarily: “Is this all they could come up with? It looks like an operation theatre!”

 

Sobhana Nair’s book on Parliament makes a similar point. The new Parliament building is sterile and efficient. It is the house for Indian democracy. But is it a home? Although the book suspends judgement, you can sense a faint sigh, a longing for the interminable corridors of the old Parliament building, the Central Hall with its lazily revolving fans, the scuffed staircases speaking of long use, the dark portraits and sculptures, and the faint lingering undefinable smell of…well, Parliament House.

 

 

The book begins with the shift of the capital from Calcutta (now Kolkata) to Delhi and the debates over the wisdom of the move against the background of the rising demand for greater self-governance by Indians. It describes the contributions of Viceroy Lord Hardinge in creating a new capital, overlaid by pushback from the imperial elite, especially Lord Curzon; the friendship between architects Edward Lutyens and Herbert Baker that would turn into bitter rivalry; and politics in Britain that influenced every decision taken on India. Lord Hardinge may have been instrumental in choosing Raisina Hill from which radiated the power-centre of India. But despite his contempt of India and Indians, he claimed complete ownership of the Delhi project and was even responsible for insisting on the grand roundabouts so that Delhi wouldn’t end up looking like a cantonment. Nor would it be another Calcutta.

 

Delhi — and the Council House, for there was only one Parliament and that was Westminster — was thus born out of squabbling over creativity, competing aesthetics and a shrewd use of symbolism: After all, despite the challenges, the sun could never really set on the British Empire, or the edifices it created to perpetuate its rule. What began as a home for the Viceroy — the Government House — became a larger and larger project. The Government of India Act, 1919, was the first step towards some kind of representation for Indians. A Council House needed to be designed as a place to hold its meetings. Herbert Baker won the contract for the Council House, with the contract for a war memorial (India Gate as we know it today) going to Lutyens. But Baker’s original design, a triangular building, was so bitterly ridiculed and reviled by Lutyens that his idea prevailed: The Council House, later the Indian Parliament was to be a circular structure.

 

Ms Nair describes how the building was built, the efforts taken to procure the stone and the wood and the glittering inauguration of Council House in 1927. It would take 20 years for India to call it Parliament — when the national anthem was sung from the precincts on August 14-15 , 1947.

 

The book describes attacks on the House — from the bombs thrown by 21-year old Bhagat Singh and Batukeshwar Dutt from the visitors’ gallery, to the charge of the sadhus in 1966,  the armed attack  by Kalashnikov-wielding individuals in 2001, and the canisters of yellow smoke flung into the house by two jobless youth shouting “Inquilab Zindabad” in 2023, which happened at the new Parliament building. The book also chronicles the uses to which this majestic building was put. Ms Nair chooses, among others, a summarised version of Manmohan Singh’s speech heralding liberalisation as being among the historic speeches made in the House. You could quibble over her choice: The Shah Bano debate for instance, or the speeches after the demolition of the Babri Masjid framed the profound social changes India was going through.

 

Ms Nair resists the temptation to pass judgement on the use of technology to curb dissent on the floor of the House, although she does devote a chapter to the dedicated parliamentary channels that telecast proceedings live. However, the capability of turning off cameras when Opposition members protest, the use of the presiding officers’ prerogative to suspend noisy members, and sundry other devices mock at the purpose of the grand building.

 

The new building, she explains was not a bolt out of the blue. It resulted from a debate in the 1980s and 1990s when it became clear that not only was the old Parliament building insufficient for modern needs but also insanitary (a stench from blocked drains). But this was a function of maintenance, she says.

 

The book is utterly captivating: Deeply researched, written in a style that is spare but elegant, often verging on the philosophic. It chronicles the humour in Parliament with aplomb. But most of all, it captures the spirit of Indian democracy, however flawed and vitiated it might seem, as it resides in a building of brick and mortar.