Excavating Hindutva

If a group of villagers were to stage a dharna outside the Rashtrapati Bhavan, claiming that the Lutyens building was built on the site of their ancestral village on Raisina Hill, would the high court help them to demolish the president?s house?

In the court-ordered excavations at Ayodhya, the Archaeological Survey of India team, comprising senior archaeologists of the VHP, BJP and the Bajrang Dal, has excavated to a depth of three feet four inches, and has already hit upon the remains of some ancient culture carbondated to the late 20th century.

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Among the finds are several items, including a copy of the Ramayan, a couple of saffron robes, several trishuls, and the Admissions Register of the Ayodhya General Hospital which clearly records Lord Ram’s birth on page 83: Name: Ram, Sex: Male, Occupation: Lord, Time of birth: 2-11-22 (Caesarean).

If a group of villagers were to stage a dharna outside the Rashtrapati Bhavan, claiming that the Lutyens building was built on the site of their ancestral village on Raisina Hill, would the high court help them to demolish the president’s house and establish their rights to the site? The decision of the high court to excavate at Ayodhya to establish the existence of a Hindu temple similarly sets a dangerous precedent. What would an excavation achieve, if anything at all? Are the bricks used in the foundation of Hindu temples distinct from those in the base of mosques? If so, then should the 30,000 other religious sites listed by the VHP also be dug up, many of which are collaborative efforts of Hindu and Muslim craftsmen? And what if below the temple archaeologists find the remains of a Catholic church? Should the Vatican then take possession of the site?

To cite another example from history. In the 17th century, when Rome experienced a dramatic increase in population, the shortage of housing compelled the needy to seek shelter in the ancient Roman theatre of Marcellus. The building’s vaults and arched galleries that once accommodated Roman audiences at gruesome gladiator fights were adjusted for houses. Gradually, small houses began to appear on its rusticated façade, and before long the ancient arena of blood, guts and gore had been transformed into a minor — though unusual — housing complex. The transformation of the building’s use reflected something of the changing tide of history.

Because the altered architecture was viewed as a true reflection of its time, it merely strengthened the Italian sense of continuity with the past — a past that was in many ways barbaric, but undeniably their own.

Today’s 21st century Italian attends Sunday mass in the 16th century Renaissance church that was built on the remains of a 12th century medieval building, which, in turn, sits on the foundations of a 2nd century pagan basilica. It is a history of archaeological layers and is still visible in the Church of San Clemente in Rome. Despite the layers of divergent strains and forms of worship, none among the present day Romans has protested at the unusual hybrid of foundations, and called for a selective pruning of history. Instead, strengthened by many generations of builders, with vastly differing religious and political beliefs, there is genuine pride in achievements that have contributed to the melting pot of architectural ideas that is Rome.

Like Italy, our own architecture is the happy hotpot of a history of invasions. If the British had not colonised India, the bungalow may never have been discovered, and we would have been the poorer for it. Had the Muslim invasions stopped at Afghanistan, the great tradition of monumental architecture would have eluded us; and, of course, if the Aryans hadn’t conquered in the first place, we may never have known the temple form in its varied mutations.

With such a varied history, architecture in India can hardly be used to lay legitimate legal claim to chauvinistic allegiances and religious identities. Emperors like Akbar and Humayun in the north, or the Vijayanagar kings in the south, invariably engaged with local artisans and buildings traditions for their own purposes, even using stylistic and structural imitation from across religious bounds.

And Indian craftsmen — whether Hindu or Muslim — absorbed skills from each other in ways that it was often difficult to tell their work apart. Hindu craftsmen worked on Akbar’s citadel at Fatehpur Sikri. Similarly, Islamic details of construction were widely used on Hindu temples, and vice versa. Architecture merely formed another addition to the ongoing tradition of shared ideas at the time. To attribute sectarian intent to them would be a misreading of history.

Where do we go from here? Should those buildings that clearly demonstrate this hybrid of Hindu-Muslim design be identified as new targets for demolition? If Ahmedabad is to change its name to Karnavati, what about the Muslims who still live there? Should they be given Hindu identities as well?

Whatever we do, history will remain unchanged. The removal of King George from underneath his umbrella at India Gate did little to wipe out the memory of Empire; and it is again unlikely that had the structure been replaced by an oversized statue of the Mahatma — as was once envisaged — it would revive Gandhian idealism.

The xenophobic zeal with which Hitler built his monuments to commemorate Nazi ideology is not entirely different from our own, that promotes a strange brand of patriotism, by removing colonial statuary, promoting some religious structures at the cost of others, institutionalising the flag, changing street and city names, and so inciting calculated destruction of history.

In creating room for further polarisation between two communities, the five-judge constitution bench has reacted irresponsibly. Given that the Ayodhya issue has already done enough damage to the state of Hindu-Muslim relations, the court’s judgment should have been a healing touch directed to a quick solution. Passing the responsibility of collecting evidence to archaeology — an uncertain science given to hypothesis and conjecture — the results of the order are likely to do little more than provide more fuel for partisan politics. Certainly, the political motivations behind the excavations will be revealed in due time. For, whatever the nature of the evidence, even the most observant of archaeologists will be hard pressed to assign a specific building type to a set of broken stones.

Moreover, the system of justice was set up under the Constitution of India at the time the country became a republic 53 years ago. Any action by the court on matters that predate their own birth would fall outside their jurisdiction. If that be the case, then the final decision on the Ayodhya issue rests within the annals of mythology.

(The writer is an architect based in Delhi)