In a real-estate industry synonymous with venality, corruption and opacity, the auction of Mehrangir bungalow in Mumbai’s upscale Malabar Hill precinct stood out for its transparency and charitable intent. The property’s deceased custodian, Jamshed Bhabha, had willed the bungalow and its contents to the National Centre for Performing Arts, an institution he’d guided for decades as founder-chairman. The three-storey property was purchased by members of the widely respected Godrej family, who paid Rs 372 crore for it, enough to turn NCPA into one of the country’s wealthiest cultural organisations. The city’s theatre, music and dance scene stood to benefit greatly from the endowment.
So far so good, except that a case filed by a certain Prashant Worlikar, a union leader from the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre, threatened to put a spanner in the works. The BARC is named after Jamshed Bhabha’s brother Homi, the author of India’s nuclear programme, who died tragically in 1966 when the airplane in which he was flying crashed into Mont Blanc during its descent towards Geneva. (Strangely, it was the second Air India flight to crash into that mountain). Worlikar and his backers within the BARC and Department of Atomic Energy insisted that Mehrangir be declared a national monument, and converted into a museum honouring Bhabha.
Last week, the PIL was dismissed, but the fact that it was entertained at all, and backed by the state government, demonstrates how skewed the balance is in India between private rights and supposedly public interest. Private transactions like the auction of Mehrangir bungalow ought to be blocked by the state or courts only in rare cases, when a structure of very high artistic or historical importance faces demolition as a consequence of being sold. The Bhabha bungalow doesn’t come close to that threshold. It is a charming building but by no means an exceptional one, and isn’t even specially associated with Homi Bhabha. He was born and brought up in a different house called Kenilworth on Pedder Road, which was razed decades ago and replaced with a high-rise.
Poor record
Those who are sympathetic to the idea of a Bhabha museum should ask themselves a question: When was the last time the government established a worthwhile memorial to a national figure, one that exudes the spirit of the person it honours? I can think of the marvellous Sabarmati Ashram in Ahmedabad designed by Charles Correa and inaugurated by Pandit Nehru in 1963. Perhaps there have been one or two since. For the most part, though, the government’s idea of a memorial consists of plonking onto screens a few old photographs, usually grainy reprints, accompanied by large chunks of boring text. On the few occasions a more creative approach is sought, it takes the form of garish dioramas that make one miss the grainy photographs plus boring text formula. Remember, we are talking of administrations that think it a good idea to replicate Times Square in Kala Ghoda.
If Worlikar and his colleagues really cared about Homi Bhabha as much as they claim, one wonders why they haven’t lobbied for some kind of memorial in his name in the 50 years since his demise. Their likely darker purpose was revealed in a report in the Indian Express on Tuesday, which stated that the DAE had petitioned the Maharashtra government soon after Jamshed Bhabha died, asking for the building to be turned into a protected structure under its control. The report strengthens two theories I have held since the PIL was filed. First, that Worlikar was just a front for powerful BARC bureaucrats. Second, that the entire plan was a land grab masquerading as concern for history. Likely as not, the museum would have consisted of a few pictures and some bric-a-brac on one of the floors, while the rest of the space was commandeered as living quarters by DAE brass.
The Department of Atomic Energy is among the central government’s most pampered institutions, with a 2014 budget exceeding Rs 10,000 crores. If the institution’s managers were concerned about the future of the Bhabha bungalow as early as 2011, why did they make no attempt to buy it? Amortised over a couple of decades, the purchase would barely have made a dent in annual outlays. But that’s not the way our government ever functions. It has a will to expropriate, combined with a complete lack of accountability concerning the utilisation of that which is expropriated. The idea of actually buying something at close to market price is considered ludicrous. Yet, that is the approach taken by nations that have demonstrated their concern for heritage by actually building world-class museums.
Larger issue
The issue is much wider than the controversy surrounding this one bungalow. It extends to things like Gandhi memorabilia listed for auction. Here, again, there have been PILs galore asking the Indian government to step in, supposedly because the sales dishonour the Mahatma. That is utter rubbish. If people are willing to pay a good price for an artefact, they are likely to ensure it stays well preserved. Sales assist conservation by transferring artworks to those who can best afford to take care of them. Of course, it is preferable that historically important items be accessible to the public, but the way to achieve that is not by demanding the Indian government overstep its jurisdiction, but by pressuring it to bid for art, antiquities and memorabilia. The Chinese have been doing this for years and their appetite has only grown with time.
If the government doesn’t want to enter into such deals, it should in any case loosen restrictions on private individuals importing heritage items, owning them, and displaying them. If it can’t do even that, it ought at least to keep away from perfectly legitimate private transactions, especially ones like the sale of Mehrangir that will greatly benefit a city’s cultural landscape.
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So far so good, except that a case filed by a certain Prashant Worlikar, a union leader from the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre, threatened to put a spanner in the works. The BARC is named after Jamshed Bhabha’s brother Homi, the author of India’s nuclear programme, who died tragically in 1966 when the airplane in which he was flying crashed into Mont Blanc during its descent towards Geneva. (Strangely, it was the second Air India flight to crash into that mountain). Worlikar and his backers within the BARC and Department of Atomic Energy insisted that Mehrangir be declared a national monument, and converted into a museum honouring Bhabha.
Last week, the PIL was dismissed, but the fact that it was entertained at all, and backed by the state government, demonstrates how skewed the balance is in India between private rights and supposedly public interest. Private transactions like the auction of Mehrangir bungalow ought to be blocked by the state or courts only in rare cases, when a structure of very high artistic or historical importance faces demolition as a consequence of being sold. The Bhabha bungalow doesn’t come close to that threshold. It is a charming building but by no means an exceptional one, and isn’t even specially associated with Homi Bhabha. He was born and brought up in a different house called Kenilworth on Pedder Road, which was razed decades ago and replaced with a high-rise.
Poor record
Those who are sympathetic to the idea of a Bhabha museum should ask themselves a question: When was the last time the government established a worthwhile memorial to a national figure, one that exudes the spirit of the person it honours? I can think of the marvellous Sabarmati Ashram in Ahmedabad designed by Charles Correa and inaugurated by Pandit Nehru in 1963. Perhaps there have been one or two since. For the most part, though, the government’s idea of a memorial consists of plonking onto screens a few old photographs, usually grainy reprints, accompanied by large chunks of boring text. On the few occasions a more creative approach is sought, it takes the form of garish dioramas that make one miss the grainy photographs plus boring text formula. Remember, we are talking of administrations that think it a good idea to replicate Times Square in Kala Ghoda.
If Worlikar and his colleagues really cared about Homi Bhabha as much as they claim, one wonders why they haven’t lobbied for some kind of memorial in his name in the 50 years since his demise. Their likely darker purpose was revealed in a report in the Indian Express on Tuesday, which stated that the DAE had petitioned the Maharashtra government soon after Jamshed Bhabha died, asking for the building to be turned into a protected structure under its control. The report strengthens two theories I have held since the PIL was filed. First, that Worlikar was just a front for powerful BARC bureaucrats. Second, that the entire plan was a land grab masquerading as concern for history. Likely as not, the museum would have consisted of a few pictures and some bric-a-brac on one of the floors, while the rest of the space was commandeered as living quarters by DAE brass.
The Department of Atomic Energy is among the central government’s most pampered institutions, with a 2014 budget exceeding Rs 10,000 crores. If the institution’s managers were concerned about the future of the Bhabha bungalow as early as 2011, why did they make no attempt to buy it? Amortised over a couple of decades, the purchase would barely have made a dent in annual outlays. But that’s not the way our government ever functions. It has a will to expropriate, combined with a complete lack of accountability concerning the utilisation of that which is expropriated. The idea of actually buying something at close to market price is considered ludicrous. Yet, that is the approach taken by nations that have demonstrated their concern for heritage by actually building world-class museums.
Larger issue
The issue is much wider than the controversy surrounding this one bungalow. It extends to things like Gandhi memorabilia listed for auction. Here, again, there have been PILs galore asking the Indian government to step in, supposedly because the sales dishonour the Mahatma. That is utter rubbish. If people are willing to pay a good price for an artefact, they are likely to ensure it stays well preserved. Sales assist conservation by transferring artworks to those who can best afford to take care of them. Of course, it is preferable that historically important items be accessible to the public, but the way to achieve that is not by demanding the Indian government overstep its jurisdiction, but by pressuring it to bid for art, antiquities and memorabilia. The Chinese have been doing this for years and their appetite has only grown with time.
If the government doesn’t want to enter into such deals, it should in any case loosen restrictions on private individuals importing heritage items, owning them, and displaying them. If it can’t do even that, it ought at least to keep away from perfectly legitimate private transactions, especially ones like the sale of Mehrangir that will greatly benefit a city’s cultural landscape.