Man vs monument: Why Tughlaqabad Fort’s neighbours had to go, but not Siri, or Purana Qila or Lal Kot

The eviction of residents of “Bengali Colony” that sprang up a few decades ago around the 13th century Tughlaqabad Fort in southeast Delhi is one side of the Man versus Monument saga. The other side of the story is demonstrated by the curious case of a 15th century monument that once stood on land which now belongs to the Delhi Jal Board. It disappeared without trace when an IAS officer heading the utility allegedly had a new official residence built in its place. In both cases, the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) was blindsided apparently. No one saw anything amiss either in the case of the slow, creeping colonisation of the area around Tughlaqabad Fort or the relatively faster disappearance of a neglected Sayyid era building. This assumes a shocking apathy on the part of civil society, that considers itself to be the guardian of not only heritage buildings but also the underprivileged. But they have condoned crimes against both. That a bureaucrat organised the destruction of an unknown old structure should surprise no one. It is not the first time this has happened. For example, the palace of Akbar’s ‘milk brother’ Mirza Aziz Koka (a man particularly affected by this Man vs Monument scourge) once lay where Sunder Nagar is now, right next to Purana Qila. No doubt the Jal Board boss and those who facilitated his plan knew of such precedents. Once a monument is gone, what can the ASI do? The officer in question not only got away with the destruction of this monument on Jal Board land, he has gone on to hold another senior position in north-eastern India. Even if he is actually ever prosecuted, there is little chance of conviction. And his friends in civil society will reason that it was a dilapidated, dirty building anyway, and perhaps a haven for “unsavoury elements” not to mention scorpions and snakes. The guy probably did his neighbours a favour, they may add. In the case of Bengali Colony were the officials of the departments that issued Aadhaar and voter cards, electricity and water connections to residents unaware of the area’s illegal status? It is easy to blame only unscrupulous politicians but without the connivance of government officials, such encroachments—in New Delhi and other cities, not merely in the supposedly lawless hinterland—is almost impossible. But has civil society ever protested about these in time? No. Delhi has countless structures that date from mediaeval times and even earlier, in various stages of care—and neglect. Many if not most other old cities in India also have such buildings, many of them in real danger of crumbling. It is impossible to imagine that a bureaucratic and toothless body like the ASI could “protect” any of them, except perhaps the most prominent. In fact even so-called prominent monuments have not escaped encroachments, even in Delhi. When conservation of the structures around the Unesco World Heritage Site of Humayun’s Tomb at the edge of Lutyens Delhi began well over a decade ago, for instance, preliminary studies revealed the extent to which buildings such as Chausath Khamba, the exquisite marble pillared tomb Mirza Aziz Koka near Nizamuddin Auliya’s dargah had been vandalised, illegally occupied and encroached upon. How could that happen in such a high profile area? A “Save Lal Mahal” campaign was initiated by some civil society activists to “rescue” another 13th century structure near the dargah, but only after it had been almost entirely encircled by someone—“captured” to use an Indianism—for his own use. Despite intervention by several ministers of that time (including Ambika Soni and then Delhi CM Sheila Dikshit), for years the man brazenly continued to do exactly what he wanted. Only a part of Lal Mahal was finally saved. A lot of delicate negotiations and concessions had to be undertaken to retrieve such Mughal and pre-Mughal era structures from encroachers and occupiers. That sort of approach gets results but needs sustained interaction and demonstrable benefits of intervention. Had Tughlaqabad Fort been the beneficiary of the same kind of enlightened and informed conservation action that the Nizamuddin area ultimately got, then the current distress may well have been avoided. When the Supreme Court declared the whole area around the fort protected in 2016, the writing was literally on the wall for Bengali Colony. Following the court’s order to remove all encroachments, the ASI had pasted 1248 notices on structures within the precincts of the protected area. Still the penny did not drop, either for civil society or the then newly-elected (and now second term) MLA of the area, or indeed the relevant officials— until the bulldozers arrived. They obviously thought no one would bother to go ahead with demolition. Why would anyone care about a crumbling fort that hardly features in history books? And it is not as if there has never been any construction around Delhi’s forts, they may well have reasoned. Shahjahanabad once stretched right up to the Red Fort though the closest areas were demolished by the vengeful British after 1857. But the British then built a cricket stadium next to Ferozshah Kotla in 1883! After independence, the authorities have been markedly generous when it comes to constructions next to monuments. That is why Sunder Nagar abuts Purana Qila, Nizamuddin East hugs the mediaeval wall around Humayun’s Tomb and juts into the garden of Abdur Rahim Khan-i-Khanan’s tomb, upscale Panchsheel Park and the Asiad village complex snuggle up to Siri Fort and private homes, Delhi Development Authority flats and a golf course flank Qila Rai Pithora. When politicians and bureaucrats allowed areas around Siri, Qila Rai Pithora, Nizamuddin and Purana Qila to be “developed”, their family and friends—now civil society—benefited. Tughlaqabad was perhaps too far on the fringe to catch their eye in time. Had there been Panchsheel or Sunder Nagar type residential enclaves at the foot of Tughlaqabad Fort instead of a mishmash of shanties and hutments, the issue of encroachment may never have been raised at all! The same applies to the Sayyid era pavilion bulldozed to make way for an IAS officer’s architecturally substandard airconditioned abode. Had some shanties sprung up there, there would have been cries of “encroachment”, first and loudest from the government department concerned. But when one of their own—the CEO of that government utility—decided to destroy the unfortunate building, no one protested or even snitched to the state archaeological department. And, this is only about man versus the monuments of just Delhi. Around India countless old buildings—forts and temples, tombs and minars, baolis and serais— have disappeared or are in danger of it. The answer is not to have the ASI grow fangs but for people—civil society—to appreciate the value of old structures and be vigilant against attempts to damage, destroy or encroach upon them, whether by the powerful or the poor. Only then can man and monuments coexist. The author is a freelance writer. Views expressed are personal. Read all the  Latest News,  Trending News,  Cricket News,  Bollywood News, India News and  Entertainment News here. Follow us on  Facebook,  Twitter and  Instagram.