Pillaging The Past

What galis are to Old Delhi, pols are to Ahmedabad. Long meandering streets and bustling retreats, some winding their way into an adjacent po l, others ending in culdesacs. A typical street scene has women, old and young, looking out of exquisitely carved windows or sitting by a beautiful pillar. It’s virtually a living museum of Ahmedabad’s architectural history starting from the 15th century. A Portuguese stuccorubbing shoulders with a Persian jali; a Graeco-Roman pillar vying for attention with a British colonnade. A random walk through these serpentine alleys would tell you much more about Ahmedabad’s history than history books.

Says Debasish Naik, a Calcutta-based architect involved in the preservation of pols : "A pol had almost every essential of community living— a school, a good drainage system, a temple, an open space for holding functions, etc. The markets, however, were always outside the pol precincts, making for a quiet, cosy and safe existence inside."

It is this heritage that is now endangered. Take the Jethabhaini-pol, for instance. A 280-year-old beautiful three-storeyed haveli,after whose owner the pol takes its name, it was demolished recently by the builders. Irate residents say the haveli was razed on the sly though it had been officially sealed by the municipality.

John Pannikar, a photographer who bought a haveli in this pol last year is livid: "In recent times, many havelis have disappeared in my pol alone. And there are at least three on sale at present, to make way for shopping arcades, parking lots."

Nobody knows exactly when the pols came into being. Historians put the date around the beginning of the 15th century. In fact, the Ain-e-Akbari mentions about 360 mohallas or paras which were modelled on those of Patan in south Gujarat.

Most of the early havelis were Muslim-dominated, but with dwindling Muslim influence and increasing communal strife, communities like the Lonis, Patels, and Luhars established their own pols . The Jains, Christians and Parsis soon followed suit and pols became a defining feature of the city. Wrote a British historian in 1903: "Nowhere does one feel oneself more thoroughly in an eastern city of the past times than in the narrow streets of Ahmedabad, thick with ancient houses, none so poor as not to have a doorway or a window or a wooden pillar carved finely."

But now market forces are eager to despoliate this "most thorough of eastern cities". Most pols appear to be doing no better  than Jethabhai-ni-pol. A US-based N R I group recently offered a fortune for the Mahendrabhai Desai-ni-haveli— where Ketan Mehta filmed his Bhavni Bhava i— in Vaso, north Gujarat. They reportedly wanted to transplant the entire haveli in the US in the shape of a Jain temple!

For his part, Mahendrabhai, the 83-year-old impecunious owner of the haveli, wants his haveli to be conserved but is extremely distrustful of the Archaeological  Survey of India (A S I). And not without good reason. He points to the neighbouring Vithal bhai’s haveli, whose former owners sold the haveli to a party in good faith. But the new owner had other ideas: he wanted to make a quick fortune by selling the haveli’s objets d’art, a hot market these days.

The A S I reached the site much after the haveli had been stripped of its finest embellishments. The incensed owners filed a case against the A S I but it’s been hanging fire for a decade now. The haveli is supposedly under the A S I’s guardianship, but people who have visited it say the local vulture s have decamped with the last of the remains .

And this is not the only act of omission and commision that the A S I is guilty of. A decade ago, a much-coveted haveli in Doshivadani-pol had fallen into the hands of a mercenary. But while it was being taken apart and its assets being auctioned,  word somehow reached the bureaucracy and the haveli was handed over to the A S I. Since then, says Naik, "the haveli’s dismembered portions— pillars, doors, brackets, jalis, jharokhas— have been rotting in the backyard of the Gujarat state archives in Gandhinagar". Attempts to reassemble the haveli in Gandhinagar have yet to take off .

So, what with political apathy and little, if any, protest from the pol community, antique traders are having a field day. In the suburban Danilimbda, godowns of antique dealers are stuffed with much-coveted haveli bric-a-brac. Or walk down the Sarkhej Road, and you would find roadside antique furniture shops hawking similar stuff .

And antiquity sells, not least because the lure of the ancient has never been as strong as it is now. Intricate woodwork fetches fancy prices both here and abroad. Typically, a small carved bracket fetches Rs 1,000-3, 000; an ornate window Rs 25,000-60,000; and a set of pillars Rs 50,000-2,00,000.

Says a popular antique dealer: "Our clients come mainly from Delhi and Mumbai and many of them are celebrities, photographers and socialites. Go to the suburbs of major metros, and you will find bungalows with their facades as well insides boasting haveli handiwork." The increasing demand and hefty prices have also spawned a cottage industry of fake art.

All this is in violation of the law. For instance, the Antiquities and Art Treasures Act, 1972 forbids the export of memorabilia which is more than a century old, while the A S I bars any construction within a radius of 100 m of a protected monument and regulates all constructions within a radius of 200 m. Many pols fall within this ambit.

The question is, is there any hope for these magnificent reminders of medieval Ahmedabad? Can we preserve the old charm of our ancient cities, just as Euro-peans have done with cities like Amsterdam, Leipzig and Warsaw? It is hard not be cynical, so long as Indian antiques continue to be smuggled out freely, nay in collusion with famous auction houses like Sotheby’s; so long as a cash-strapped ASI is incapable of defending India’s heritage, let alone conserving it; so long as poverty and overpopulation plague us.

The state bureaucracy, however, claims it is earnest about conserving the city’s heritage. There are constant harps about the Gujarat Conservation Act, which has been hanging fire for the last two years. The Act, similar to that passed by the Maharashtra government in mid 1995, seeks to stipulate bye-laws for heritage precincts and regulations for heritage structures.

With the Act in doldrums and conservationists crying hoarse, the officialdom, in an effort to sound more convincing, has drawn up a special heritage action plan for Ahmedabad. The plan, explains C.S. Sharma, who is in charge of the project, will earmark conservation zones in the old city where development will be frozen and havelis protected. About 16 pols and 126 havelis have already been identified for protection.

BUT he admits it won’t be easy. For many reasons, which, in his wisdom, may eventually stymie any political will to save the wonders of the old city: "Where is the money to restore the crumbling havelis? Which corporate sponsor will risk its capital on maintaining the pols , which suffer all kinds of infrastructure problems? How will you stop people moving out to greener pastures? Aren’t there more pressing concerns facing the city  administration? Finally, do you  think you can persuade today’s materialistic generation to go back to traditional values?"

Sharma’s cynicism about political solutions is not lost on pragmatic conservationists. With a 15-per-cent decrease in the population of the walled city, the future of the pols doesn’t look very bright. Neglected for decades, many of them are crumbling and are in danger of becoming virtual slums. And with land prices crashing, people are deserting the pols in huge numbers, either selling their houses or renting them out to tenants who anyway couldn’t care less.

Pol lovers like Pannikar now seem convinced that only pol dwellers themselves can save their ancestors’ legacy. But that’s a tall order. However, this  wisdom is beginning to dawn on the residents of some pols. Jethabhai-ni-pol, in particular, thanks to Pannikar’s efforts. Says he: "The pols were wonderful places to live in and still are. They must be cherished and preserved. If nothing is done, they may soon degenerate into ugly blocks of flats and shopping complexes."

For Pannikar, the builder lobby is "our arch-enemy, as they enjoy political patron-age". He alleges that they are forcing people out either by offering huge sums of money or through sheer intimidation. "An old woman who refused to sell her 300- year-old house said the builders try to bully her by cutting off her water and power supply. It’s become particularly bad for womenfolk as now they can’t leave their doors and windows open without inviting leering looks from the shops across," says an annoyed Kinnari Patel, designer and Pannikar’ wife.

Pannikar has already begun a pol-campaign to organise the community to fight the builder lobby. "I have sent a questionnaire to each resident about what should and shouldn’t be done to keep the pols alive. And I’m glad most of them want the builders out and are keen to revive the Gujarati style of living."

Pannikar is up against heavy odds, but with a little encouragement from the government, if he succeeds, his endeavour might inspire other pol residents to prevent what now seems inevitable.