Augmenting Living Buildings : Conservation of Historic Buildings

‘Augmenting Living Buildings – Retrofit, Repurpose, Recondition'

Lecture given on 18 January 2024 

for Faculty Development Program conducted by Balwant Sheth School of Architecture in collaboration with the Council of Architecture

Our session is themed on the conservation of historic buildings — and their  processes, challenges, execution and commissioning.

I will briefly share the structure that we will follow in this session. 

• I’m going to first speak about how the processes, challenges, execution and commissioning of conservation of historic buildings, are fundamentally related to our understanding of what is heritage.
• So I will begin by clarifying these keywords heritage and heritage buildings, and explore the different meanings of heritage; what is common to these meanings and what is not. 
• I will move on to what are the lessons that we can learn from the specific process and challenges in specialised conservation work of heritage buildings; and how can we extend these lessons beyond the specialised field of conservation architecture to the field of architecture in general.
• I will explain this through my experience with the specific case study of the Jantar Mantar site, with which I was associated for many years.
• And we will have a discussion following all this, to gauge how far these lessons have been communicated in the session.

 I.  Let's begin with understanding what are heritage buildings.

The Oxford Dictionary has 3 definitions of heritage:

1. A property that is inherited;
2. Valued things such as historic buildings that have been passed down from previous generations. 
3. Relating to things of historic or cultural value that are worthy of preservation.

The first meaning, which is the broadest understanding of heritage as anything that is passed down and inherited will cover a large number of buildings that make up our built environment. And therefore that can or should, come potentially under our ambit as architects, whether or not we have a specialisation in conservation or not. The 2nd two meanings are specifically with respect to what are called historic buildings.

What are historic buildings? Who decides what buildings are historic and have cultural value? Normally, it is the government, which through legislation designates buildings as historic. There are also cases, where society as a whole or through communities, decides that a building has historical value, even when there is no designated governmental recognition or protection. For instance, the recent case of the Army Public School in Mhow which was being demolished, and the students there, as well as serving and retired military officers and other concerned citizens, stepped in, formed a human chain, and stopped the demolition — at least for now.

Architects also come into the picture in both these categories: very often, architects are engaged by governments or society to help decide whether a building is historic or not. 

In the official method laid down in our country, buildings are designated as historic buildings if they are at least a hundred years old. So, does this mean that any building which is more than a hundred years old, automatically qualifies as heritage or historic? In most cases, this is not so. Only buildings that are representative of a certain kind of period-architecture, which additionally have values of cultural significance, are officially deemed to be worthy of conservation. What we are often doing thus, is turning buildings into museum pieces. 

Does this mean that if buildings are less than a hundred years old, they cannot have historic or cultural value? What happens to such buildings? What does conservation mean in their context? What can be understood from this, is that just the age does not automatically qualify a building as heritage or not. There also has to be cultural value as well as social value of significance for a building to be declared as a heritage building.

There are also buildings older than 100 years, like the APS in Mhow, which despite being recognised as having historic value, may still be vulnerable. Another recent instance is the Sunehri Masjid in New Delhi which was slated for demolition. In this case, many architects, including conservation architects as well as people from all walks of life wrote to the NDMC, and communicated the need for conservation of this building — because of the associations this building has for us as a culture, as a people, and as a nation. Architects added their specific knowledge to counter the arguments for demolishing the Masjid, and offered viable alternatives to resolve the issue. Here, obviously the challenge was to demonstrate the importance or the requirement for conservation of such buildings. Architects can, and should thus, create such opportunities for buildings to be conserved.

This is the first challenge in conservation.

Let me explain this through the story of my involvement with the Jantar Mantar at Delhi. I don't know how many of you have visited it. I will ask you at the end of our session!

What is the Jantar Mantar? It is essentially an observatory complex. I became involved with it, because the Park Hotel Apeejay Group whose President is Priya Paul, wished to contribute to improving and beautifying its area. 

When she looked at it from across her hotel, she felt that it needed better looking after. The Jantar Mantar’s conservation is in the hands of the Archaeological Survey of India; it is designated as a site of national importance. When I was called in as a conservation architect to suggest ways of improving and beautifying its environs and landscape, I argued that this could only be done by understanding the existing buildings on site and their history. 

These buildings which are instruments of astronomy were not understood or appreciated for their scientific value by the general public, and as it turned out, even by the custodians. This is what I discovered through my own research at the start of the project — research into scientific texts, archival photographs, drawings, instruments of astronomy, etc. My research on the buildings and the condition survey also showed that the ASI was not actually conserving the buildings appropriately. This research led me to configure the entire interpretation of the site, including its pathways and landscape design, based on the geometry, the sequence, and the ways in which the instruments were used when they were made, and ought to be used even now. Thus, the improvements of the site were determined by the conservation and interpretation requirements of the heritage buildings. They were informed by their history: by what was the function of the Jantar Mantar; why were the structures in it made; what materials they were made of; their orientation; why they were located where they were; the process of construction, and so on. 

So, what is the lesson here? Before embarking on any design directions, we need to understand the site and what we are trying to conserve through structured and comprehensive research. I will give you an analogy to explain this better. A good doctor will not rush into giving medicines or even diagnosing a problem and offering a solution for improving the health of a patient, without knowing throughly what is the physiology of the patient, past medical history, basic body structure, etc. And if that does not happen, then what the doctor suggests as a cure will not be appropriate or effective for the patient. 

The same process needs to be followed for conservation. Except that, most people understand and accept the need for preliminary medical examination as the correct medical procedure, but do not necessarily appreciate or accept this for conservation of buildings. And therefore this is the first challenge: any building that already exists, needs to be thoroughly examined and researched upon before we can suggest any remedial measures, adaptation, or any improvement for extending its life span — which all come under the meaning of conservation.

I had shared some links with you. One of these was titled ‘Feasibility Report for the JM Complex’. This contains the results of the first part of my research, and based on that research and analysis, what are the ways for its improvement and beautification, and what should be the conservation philosophy and process directing such improvements. This Report was fundamental in outlining the correct approach, and in convincing the clients and the custodians for the need to follow such an approach.

So, the larger lesson that we can draw from the process of specialised conservation work which can be applied to any existing building, is that we need to do sufficient research into materials, function, site conditions, etc. of any building before we suggest any design inputs. And this process of research — as you would have seen from the report, if you went through it — requires both primary, on-site investigations and recording, as well as accessing secondary records in the form of existing drawings or specifications or descriptions. And then finally, the analysis of all these is necessary to reach any sort of preliminary methodology or direction about what to do, and how to do it. In other words, if we are not familiar with the materials used in the original building, and their properties, methods and processes of being used in that building, we will obviously not be able to deal with how best to repair, adapt or conserve it.

Research and analysis is thus part of the process and part of the challenge of conservation work, since most clients whether in the private sector or in the government will not appreciate the necessity for doing it; or will not want to give the time or the funds to enable such research. Part of the process and challenge of any kind of conservation work is, therefore to convince people about the necessity of doing this research as a preliminary exercise both for correct design and implementation.

So, for example I had to first convince the client of the necessity of doing this preliminary research — and then convince the official custodians, the ASI, of the recommendations I arrived at through the research — for which the Feasibility Report was very helpful. Having convinced the client and having done this research, the outcome helped me to also convince the custodians to actually change their conservation approach to this site  — which had been, heretofore, a continuation of the colonial model that they had been following for many decades. In other words, though my initial role was restricted to improving the site environs and deciding the landscape, signage etc, I actually became involved with not just the site-environs conservation, but also conservation process of the Yantras. And in additionally involving other experts, such as the late Dr Rathnashree, the Director of the Delhi Nehru Planetarium in the project, and other scientist and students, and changing the conservation approach of the ASI!

What is the lesson here? That the conservation architect is as vital person who starts off the entire project by carrying out research and analysis and putting together the necessary documentation. 

Execution of the Project

Let me now come to the execution.

This was a very long process. Conservation is a long process. First, the research takes time, and then since you are dealing with an existing building or groups of buildings, you have to proceed carefully so as to not disturb the existing structure. This is also a challenge. Once the process is started off, other resource people and experts have to be involved in to even formulate an effective and practical strategy of how to proceed. In other words, this is team work.

In the case of the Jantar Mantar, it was also an active tourist site, so all work: whether installation of signage or lighting or putting in facilities, or even studying the existing structures through on-site investigations of plaster or foundations; had to be done very carefully. There had to be no disruption to existing visitor activities, and one had to be careful that there was no danger to visitors or the built-structures from any kind of physical work on site.

In this case, these built-structure were also instruments of astronomy. So, they were very specialised buildings with their own specific requirements, which had to be looked after. The level of complexity was very great. There were no precedents. And the process that the ASI had been following, in many cases was detrimental to the durability and function of the instruments. For instance, they had been repaired with cement mortar, whereas the original mortar and plaster and render was in lime. This changed use of material for plaster and mortar caused problems of water seepage and cracking. And therefore, in the name of repair and conservation, this work actually jeopardised the well-being of the Jantar Mantar. So, when conservation is done without proper research, this can happen.

The execution was also difficult because the ASI had considered these as monuments and ordinary buildings, not as functional instruments of astronomy. The need for functional restoration had to be demonstrated, the means for functional restoration had to hunted out; and the entire process had to be actually devised for them.

The other specific challenge arose from the fact that it was a site of national importance. There was also a court case challenging the ASI’s work here. Each successive DG of the ASI therefore wished to be involved with its conservation; they all had different notions about what to do; they all had to be re-convinced of our recommendations each time afresh! So, while we succeeded in doing a number of things, there were many things we could not do. It was like climbing a ladder two steps up, and one step down constantly. Also, the process of research did not stop at the preliminary level, but went all through all stages of the project — as you would have seen from the various reports and documents that I had shared, which I had put in the public domain.

This is also why I decided to bring together the research and analysis, and learnings from the Jantar Mantar Project in the form of a book, which could be understood and accessed by everybody, including specialists. The book was written and published with the same objective as that which I outlined in the beginning of my talk: the fact that the processes, challenges, execution and commissioning of conservation of historic buildings, are fundamentally related to our understanding of what is heritage. We conserve heritage only when we believe it has socio-cultural and historic significance. And the way to do this is both by physical conservation of the buildings themselves, as well as by transmitting knowledge of their significance through information that can be easily understood both by the layperson and the specialist.

Resilience and Sustainable Development: The Example of the Red Fort

Text and Images of the Talk delivered on 18 April 2024: 

Anisha Shekhar Mukherji

 

Good evening.

Since we have a paucity of time and since it is said, a picture is worth a 1000 words, I have chosen to share some pictures to explain my take on how tangible and intangible aspects of heritage can help us to develop resilience in sustainable ways — taking some cues from the Venice Charter of 1964.

I’ll do so by focusing on the specific example of the Red Fort of Shahjahanabad — an archival image of which is on the poster for the event today. Quite pertinently so, since the Fort is a national icon, apart from being an important symbol of our city and a world heritage site. This archival image also features in my book, which is a detailed analysis of the design principles of the Fort and its transformation through time — and leading from that, an examination of appropriate conservation approaches. Much of what I intend to say and show — very briefly, let me assure you — draws on the information and analysis in this book.

There are of course multiple meanings that may be associated with resilience, but in its essence, it is defined as ‘an ability to recover or regain form/position/shape after something difficult or bad has happened; or after being subjected to an external force’. Sustainable, as we know, means ‘a method of using a resource, so that the resource is not depleted or permanently damaged.’

In the context of the Red Fort, there are very few visual records dating from the time of its establishment. But we do have references to it in multiple textual and visual sources, apart from primary data in the form of original surviving buildings, all of which help us to arrive at its original form and qualities. These are some records from the late 18th to the mid-19th centuries that show us glimpses of its appearance and structure — at a time, let me add, when it had already been through significant internal transformations in rulership and society, as well as subject to external forces of plunder and assault.

 

However, from 1857 onwards, the damage and destruction that the Fort and the city suffered, was so devastating that they still have not recovered. These are photographs from 1857-58, barely 10 years after the time of the images I shared earlier in this talk. This destruction was followed by a complete appropriation and re-modelling of the Fort. And this can be clearly understood through these figure-ground drawings I’ve made, where I’ve filled the open spaces in black. These are based on records before and after 1857: the crucial turning point for the Fort and indeed for our country.

Even when tentative attempts at conservation of the Fort were made later in the 19th century by British officials, these were limited to just a few remaining original buildings. Additions were made by the British even though they ‘detracted from the buildings, their traditional settings, and their relationship with surroundings’ — as indeed, subsequent conservation efforts continue to do in contravention of the advice in the Venice Charter’.

This is an aerial photograph of the Fort with plans and locations of original surviving Mughal structures superimposed on it. We can see how the setting and scale detract from these heritage structures. And this plan shows quite clearly how the destroyed original spatial components of the Fort — that I have indicated as shaded areas — have been colonised and interrupted, post-British occupation. 

Photographs of the Fort today speak for themselves about the ill-conceived interventions and the ill-maintained original Mughal structures. They record the pressing need to incorporate appropriate maintenance, social inclusion and local needs, as well as to safeguard original buildings as ‘works of art’,  in keeping with the advice in the Venice charter; and to allow us ‘to maintain and use these vital resources, so that they are not depleted or permanently damaged’, in keeping with the definition of sustainability.

To end I would like to show two images. This is a part of the 1846 map of Shahjahanabad which illustrates the close relationship of the Fort with the river and the city; their great number of public and private gardens which were essentially orchards; their provision of many kinds of accessible and open social spaces, which included orchards and river banks. Above all, their connection and concern for the topography, hydrology, and ecology of Delhi. These are the factors that make for sustainable development. And these very factors allowed the Fort and the city to be resilient through two centuries — before British colonisation set into motion their forcible rejection.

The last image I have is of a ber tree, and some craftspeople. This was photographed two weeks ago, during a seminar organised by IGNCA, as part of the initiative of Atma Nirbhar Bharat Centre for Design housed in one of the British barracks at the Red Fort. This image, to me, highlights the way forward in integrating heritage perspectives for resilience and sustainable development. The provision of trees, particularly indigenous fruit trees, renders open space comfortable, accessible, equitable and fosters biodiversity. This is what we ought to follow as a rule, rather than the unsustainable and colonial concept of water-guzzling lawns or so-called ornamental trees/shrubs. 

The image also conveys the positive presence of craftspeople in shaping our tangible and intangible world. The craftsector can directly fulfil 9 of the 17 UN Sustainable Development Goals: including Goal 11: Sustainable cities and communities; Goal 12 : Responsible consumption and production. We must also remember that craftspeople and their skills were instrumental in making for us the World Heritage site of the Red Fort in the first place. Not just that, but also — as records show — the Fort functioned as the economic mainstay and centre of patronage for the best crafts of the country, as well as for the specific crafts of Shahjahanabad, from where people came daily to work, where they were frequently honoured and their products were displayed, celebrated and sold. These are aspects that can and ought to be brought back — most certainly in the Fort in keeping with its historic use, as well as other heritage sites — and also integrated into current ways and policies of developing contemporary habitats. Only such a perspective can help us deal with the difficult times ahead with resilience, especially in the face of climate change.

Notes:

See in particular, Article 6 and 13 of the Venice Charter.

The Crafts-Sector which is directly linked to the conception, creation and continuation of tangible and intangible heritage, is especially crucila in achieving the UN SDGs 1: No poverty, 3: Good health and well-being; 5: Gender equality, 8: Decent work and economic growth; 9: Industry, innovation and infrastructure; 10: Reduced inequalities, 11; Sustainable cities and communities; 12 : Responsible consumption and production, 13: Climate action.

Image credits: 

The Oriental and India Office Collections, British Library, London

The Golden Calm, Memoirs of Emily, Lady Clive Bailey and her Father, Sir Thomas Metcalfe, Viking Press, New York 1980, ed. M.M.Kaye

The Red Fort of Shahjahanabad, Anisha Shekhar Mukherji, Oxford University Press, Delhi 2003

The Red Fort of Shahjahanabad, Anisha Shekhar Mukherji, Westland 2024

Anuradha Chaturvedi

Snehanshu Mukherjee

Qila e Mubarak, The Red Fort of Shahjahanabad

 Qila e Mubarak, The Red Fort of Shahjahanabad

Text of the talk delivered for K.H.A.K.I. Labs

 

I am going to begin my talk today with an image which most of us, including children across the country, who have just entered formal school, will recognise.

This image is part of Dilli ka Lal Qila, the Red Fort. And this photo of its red walls, is not just deeply symbolic of Dilli but also of the subcontinent of India. The Lal Qila is a national icon; a symbol of the struggle for freedom against British rule; a name and an image used to advertise all sorts of products — from basmati rice to restaurants in London to matchbox labels — as well as to endorse all kinds of ideologies, political persuasions, and philosophical beliefs.

However, what exists inside these impressive walls, is barely one-tenth of what there was when the Lal Qila was built during the reign of the 5^th Mughal Emperor, Shah Jahan. Visitors to the Fort are oblivious of this fact. So was I, when I visited the Fort for the very first time. But even though I did not know then how little of the original Red Fort remained, I sensed that something did not — make sense! As a trained architect, I found it hard to understand basic questions about where did the emperor — or for that matter anybody living in the Fort — eat or sleep or bathe? This intrigued me so much that I started ferreting around for answers. It set me off on a research quest which went on for decades, sifting through and analysing the fragments of records available — of which the handful of Mughal buildings in the Fort are the most vital. 

After all that, I was able to get a little more sense of the original form and functioning of this unique Fort — some of which I shared in a book that first came out 20 years ago, and whose second edition has just been published. The book is fairly long (about 400 pages in this edition) and detailed, but there are still many aspects of the Fort that I feel I have not been able to do justice to. So, what I am going to try to explain today is quite a tall order: I am going to describe something that you and I actually see very little of, on the ground — and in the brief time that we have of about half an hour or so. Naturally, there will be much that I will be obliged to leave out of this talk, but I hope I will be able to convey, what to me, are the most important aspects.

I 

To do this, let me go back to the image that we are all very familiar with. We see this often, and we routinely salute it: especially each Independence Day with the Flag of India fluttering aloft the Red Fort’s Lahori Gate. 

But, what if I said that this is actually the antithesis of the Fort’s original design? Yes, it is! The ramparts from where the Prime Minister of India addresses the nation, were not part of the Red Fort when it was built in the 17th century. What difference does this fact make? Well, it means that the street that we now call the Chandni Chowk, which was the main street of Shahjahanabad, the city that Shah Jahan established, was not blocked by these ramparts. Instead, it led straight through a bridge into the main gate of the Fort, the Lahori Gate — which in turn led in a direct axis to the Emperor’s Throne of Justice, where he sat every day in the Diwan-i-Am, the Hall of Public Audience. This means that visually, spatially and functionally, there was no bar between Shah Jahan and his people in the city.

This changed when the ramparts and an additional smaller gateway that we see today, were made on the orders of Shah Jahan’s son, Aurangzeb. Shah Jahan, who was then imprisoned at the Agra Fort, is reported to have written, ‘Dear Son, you have made the Fort a bride and put a veil upon her face’.¹ This act of making the ramparts across the direct entrance to the main Gate, meant that access to the Fort — and the Emperor — was metaphorically and actually, made longer and more indirect. And this distance and difficulty was converted into something far more opaque and ominous, when the Fort fell into the hands of the British after 1857. 

II  

The spaces inside these ramparts, around these ramparts, and within the Fort were irreversibly altered by the British after 1857. They removed battlements, planned the demolition of everything within 500 metres around the Red Fort, and destroyed almost all the Fort’s original buildings. In their place they constructed tall grim barracks. The structures that were spared, were attacked, pillaged, remodelled and abused. Practically all its art and artefacts were looted, scattered or lost. 

Some conservation work was carried out by the ASI at the beginning of the 20th century to undo part of this damage, as well as to present the Fort as a showpiece to and a backdrop for visiting British aristocracy and royalty, such as King George and Queen Mary’s state visit for the 1911 Durbar. A garden party was held for them at the Red Fort, after which they put on their robes and crowns and ‘stood on the balcony where the Mughal emperors formerly showed themselves’ as Queen Mary records in her diary. Though some parts of the Fort were restored this was done in haste, and this conservation impetus soon petered out. Today — 370 years after it was established as the crowning jewel of Shahjahanabad on the banks of the river Yamuna, only a few pavilions and walls are left in the Red Fort: as you may see in this aerial photo of the Fort where I have outlined the existing Mughal structures. So, the reason we see — and understand — so little of how the Red Fort was used, is because so little of it remains today! This is also the reason that earlier Mughal Forts, such as those in Agra and Lahore, which have far more of their original structures remaining, seem grander and more like what we imagine an imperial fort to be.

The question is, why did the British specifically demolish and make-over so much of the Red Fort?

The reason for this lies in the Red Fort’s reputation, the fame of its design and riches, the symbolic stature of its occupants, and the way in which it was used, described and represented. All these facets of the Fort are linked. Let me explain how.

The Qila-e-Mubarak or Qila-e-Mualla, the Blessed and Exalted Fortress — some of the many names by which the Red Fort was famous — was designed as  the grand finale of imperial Mughal forts, just as the Taj Mahal was the grand finale of imperial Mughal tomb-gardens. The Taj and the Fort were created at the peak of Shah Jahan’s superlative patronage, recognised both in his time and after. The Fort’s foundations were marked out on the 29^th of April 1639 CE, and its design was reportedly led by the master-architect Ustad Hamid and his brother Ustad Ahmed, who is also believed to have been associated with the building of the Taj Mahal. Records show that in its original form, the pavilions, gardens and palaces of the Red Fort were crafted with Fatehpur Sikri sandstone, the finest Makrana marble, Allepo glass, and a range of semi-precious stones, gold, and silver from all over the trade centres of the Mughal empire. They were built in perfect proportion and detail, with the same quality of refinement as the Taj Mahal still shows. Shah Jahan moved between his Forts in different cities, but the Red Fort came to be his favourite abode. Though his successor, Aurangzeb, did not live in the Fort after the initial years of his reign; and neither did Aurangzeb’s son, practically all the Mughal rulers after them chose to stay in the Red Fort.

Thus, as the seat of the Empire, and as the Mughal rulers' favoured residence, the Red Fort enjoyed a huge reputation. It not only set the trend for architecture all over the Indian sub-continent, but also attracted invaders during its long and chequered history. These attacks culminated in the British assault of 1857 — which was different from all the previous attacks, because the British did not just loot and leave; they looted and stayed on. After exiling the last Mughal ruler, Bahadur Shah Zafar from Delhi, and hanging or shooting most of his descendants, the British erased all traces of the earlier way of life, by large-scale demolition of the architecture of Shahjahanabad — and of its Fort. The pioneering British historian-explorer James Fergusson called it ‘a fearful piece of vandalism’ to ‘the most magnificent palace in the East—perhaps in the World’. 

After this vandalism, the British stamped their presence in this famed palace of the Mughals through their own version of architecture. To better convey the extent to how they transformed the Fort, I have darkened the open spaces in these two maps of the Fort — from just before and after the demolition. You can see from these how the Fort has been converted into practically an empty shell after the British took over. Let us also refer to some drawings a little before the British appropriation of the Fort, some of which were commissioned by Sir Thomas Metcalfe, the chief representative of the British Governor-General at the Mughal court in Delhi from 1835-53. Thus, these drawings date from the time when the later rulers — whose power and resources, we know, were greatly reduced — lived in the Fort with their families and entourages. The interior of the Red Fort is very different from what we see today. It is complete, populated, and pulsating with life and activity, even if it is run-down in parts. And if we consider some other British accounts from this time, spanning two ends of the social spectrum as it were: the diary of Sir Metcalfe’s daughter, Lady Emily Bailey in 1848; and the memoirs of the marauding soldiers who roamed the Fort soon after the takeover of Delhi in 1857, we find they describe ’the vast size of this castellated palace’, how they ‘wandered through its courts’;  of how ‘it was quite a form in itself’, and of its ‘sublimely beautiful buildings intermixed with gardens.’

So, evidently, before the destruction and conversion that followed 1857, the Red Fort still retained much of its fame as well as the power of its design. What was this design? How did it manage to survive even the change in fortunes of its later inhabitants, who we are told were such reduced versions of the earlier great Mughals?

1. Well, this design was made up of many different kinds of interlinked buildings, spaces and functions ― almost like a city, in the same format as earlier forts established by the Mughals. But, it was also different from these earlier forts. While these were amalgamations of various styles and modes of construction built over the reigns of different rulers, the Red Fort was the only urban Mughal palace complex to be built at one go, at the same time as its supporting city. Its design could thus improve upon all the other issues faced in the older Forts — of overcrowding, of danger of erosion of the river-bank, of problems in movement within and around the Fort. By an intelligent site-location, and by creating separate areas, connected by a formal sequence of grand streets, walled gardens, and open courtyards, the Fort succeeded in creating an atmosphere reflective of a powerful emperor, while also retaining many areas away from the public gaze, with sufficient privacy for multiple functions. And the residential and other buildings of the emperor were a series of different pavilions for different functions, linked by screened courtyards and gardens.

2. What this meant was that the private areas were not visible from the ceremonial parts of the Fort. Also, because of the fact that it had so many gardens and forecourts, when some of these open spaces were taken over for less impressive buildings during the reigns of the later Mughals, it did not affect the general impression of vastness and grandeur of the Fort. And even when individual buildings in the Fort were looted later on by the Persians, Afghans, Marathas, etc. the overall procession of one forecourt after another leading up to the different palace-pavilions, still added up to a grand effect. 

3. The design of the Fort accommodated multiple kinds of uses and users, even when Shah Jahan was ruling. It was not only a residence of the emperor and ladies of his household, but it also efficiently housed soldiers, maids, and craftspeople who worked within the Fort, — while being a showpiece of the Mughal empire, a recreational space, an administrative centre. The intricate configurations of its pavilions, courts of justice, imperial gardens, halls of audience, kitchens, stables, etc. made it something like a combination of Rashtrapati Bhawan, North and South Block, Parliament House, Supreme Court, Secretariat, cantonment, and Crafts Museum! And all these functions were planned such that each was part of a formal larger plan, but yet retained its individuality.  

III

So, what can we learn from the Red Fort’s design? 

The planning and detailing of the Red Fort — which made it not just an epitome of urban architectural patronage in Shah Jahan’s reign, but also one of the finest examples of planning, building, and living — have important lessons for us, both as designers and clients.

Firstly, the design of the Fort demonstrates how many activities can be accommodated within a relatively limited area without intruding upon each other. Despite being the residence and the prized patronage of the richest ruler in the medieval world, the Fort did not just function as the residence of a monarch. It was socially inclusive and created opportunities for economic and cultural interaction. Visitors-great and small, from within the city and beyond the boundaries of the empire — kings, noblemen, petitioners, soldiers, ambassadors, craftsmen, weavers, even the poorest of the poor residents, all came regularly to the Fort, or worked within it.

Secondly, the Fort’s design shows how we can be ecologically considerate. The different spaces and buildings within it were planned so that there was no unnecessary wastage of resources. Instead of the high-maintenance lawns that pass for gardens today, the vast gardens in and around the Fort were essentially orchards. They worked as productive areas as well as places of pleasure, entertainment and repose; they moderated the micro-climate, and they used the optimum amount of precious water. Similarly, water in the fountains that cooled and decorated the Fort’s pavilions, gardens, and imperial bathing chambers, was recycled for irrigation, or for watering animals. The palaces of the Emperor and his family were single-storeyed pavilions, not conventional huge towering vertical complexes. Their imperial status was signalled by the quality of their proportions, materials and detailing; as well as the series of grand entrance sequences that led up to them. Different pavilions were connected to each other through colonnades, verandahs and courts. This gave flexibility in them being used at different times for interchangeable functions. All its forecourts and gateways were also multifunctional — they could be used for people to gather, for administrative work, for court ceremonial, as well as circulation spaces. 

Thirdly, the Fort’s design as a development of the traditional indigenous courtyard typology, seamlessly integrated built and open areas; this shows how utilisation of space can be maximised while keeping construction to the minimum amount. As the Fort’s original design shows, the open spaces in it are far greater than the number of built structures. The built structures and open spaces were located and configured based on an interlinked and sophisticated system of geometry, as well as a system of use. Awnings, qanats, and water-channels in verandahs, walls, arcades, and pavilions shaded and enclosed open space so that it could be used comfortably in all seasons.

And finally, the Fort demonstrates how high art and design may be used for spatial and functional benefits. Each of its components ―- whether the form or detail of its gardens, pavilions, forecourts, or colonnades was useful and beautiful; their form, structure and decoration could not be separated from each other.

IV 

This leads us to the question of how the Fort should be conserved today. Indeed, since the British broke up so much of the Red Fort, and if practically nothing of it exists on ground, should it be conserved at all?

The answer to the question of why it should be conserved, lies in the fact that we can all learn so much from even the little that remains of the Fort — as I did. As to how it should be conserved, well, the official custodians of the Fort, the ASI follow a programme of conservation. But, this programme in effect, continues the British template. As we saw, the British not only removed or misused the Fort’s original Mughal structures, they also isolated and separated the Fort from its city. And even when they conserved and restored part of the Fort, they concentrated on just some of the few remaining Mughal buildings. Their prime objectives in doing so, were to use these few parts of the Fort as exotic backdrops to stage ceremonial shows or political events. There was no serious or sustained attempt to convey the original qualities or functions of the Fort, or restore the form of its open spaces: whether the gardens, (which they interpreted as swathes of lawns instead of reinstating them as orchards); or the formal geometrical forecourts and streets, which they kept undefined and amorphous.

This is precisely the same approach today. The Fort is separated from the area around — even its contemporary city of Shahjahanabad — by fences, roads, water-guzzling lawns, dreary municipal parks, gates and officialdom. Many of the few remaining Mughal buildings in it are in a state of neglect and decay. Some parts of the Fort continue to be used for staged spectacles, but there is no attempt to communicate either the volume or plantation or scale of the original architecture — or to bring back their function as social spaces open to the people of Shahjahanabad and Delhi.

While many different layers of history have left their mark on the Fort, making it of great historical interest, the reason for the Fort to be designated a World-Heritage site stems from its unique original design. It is clear that any conservation attempt should aim to communicate this design. Here, it is important to state that the design of the Red Fort depended as much on the treatment and form of its open spaces and landscaping, as on its buildings. Thus, the interpretation and presentation of these spaces and their components — courtyards, colonnades, gardens, water channels — is as important as that of the buildings they enclosed.

Let us also remind ourselves that the Red Fort has lived through an equivalent of around 15 human generations; that only about 10% of its unique original form and detail exists; and that records of this form are few and far-between. So, how is it possible to communicate its original design and its cultural, architectural, and artistic value? We can look at the example of another city, destroyed, resettled and remade time and again: to which Delhi has often been compared as ‘the Rome of Asia’. One could equally call Rome, ‘the Delhi of Europe’. Many historical parts of Rome do not exist anymore. Yet one can still comprehend what their scale was, and experience some part of their original form, even when there is no building left above ground, through glimpses of their foundations and a sense of their overall extent.

There are other ways too, of conveying how the original appearance of the Fort may have been: through adequate and authentic 3-D and 2-D information explaining the unique design and life-cycle of the Fort; through reinstating its cultural, architectural and artistic attributes; through restoring the same qualities of inclusiveness, of concern for the environment and for material and human resources that Shah Jahan and his builders had; through promoting the very crafts and construction skills that made the creation of the Fort possible. So that the Red Fort remains the Qila-e Mubarak, and truly continues to be blessed — and a blessing for all of us. 

Pictured Realities and Transformation/ Evolution of The Red Fort in Colonial Times

Link to the Recording of the entire Session 11: 

https://youtu.be/QLv4R-VmJA0?si=LLtv951AcnWti7rh

Text of the Talk

The Red Fort of Shahjahanabad in Mir ki Dilli - and After 

Pictured Realities and Transformation/ Evolution of The Red Fort in Colonial Times 

 

The Red Fort of Shahjahanabad: 2nd Edition

Very happy to share that the second edition of The Red Fort of Shahjahanabad is out! Many thanks to the entire team at Westland. 

Here's the link on Amazon:

https://amzn.eu/d/cAE33kK