THE most common lesson from history is that we rarely learn from history. The history of conservation is no exception to this truth. Over the years there has been increased professionalism, emergence of multidisciplinary teams, increased international interaction, evolution of networking dynamics and exposure to the latest conservation measures. But if the above is expected to contribute to better understanding and deeper conviction, why has it not succeeded in the making of a collective spirit and social priority? Is it premature to expect a priority for heritage or have we failed to learn from our past experiences? Despite a notable increase in the number of conservation projects, why does the ratio between proposals advanced and successful implementation continue to be depressingly low?

It is not my intention to begin on a cynical note, but just to understand non-working conservation, hoping to unlearn some of the ineffective modes we have been practicing. The case of Hampi in Karnataka may have no pan-Indian application, but it illustrates a rich range of issues which commonly emerge in many conservation projects. Though deterrents like limited funds, public apathy, unwilling authorities, low priority, diluting skills and market forces are frequently invoked (as an excuse), nevertheless we all share the responsibility of achieving working conservation within the imperatives we confront today.

Hampi is an unique site, an erstwhile capital where the civic, sacred and monumental co-exist, the rural present brushes with the historic past, majestic boulders shelter structures growing from within, and settlements exuding an old world charm spread across an exotic rocky terrain. Mythologically related to the Kishkinda Kshetra of Vali, Sugriva and the Ramayana, many place names at Hampi flow from the epic. Rock paintings at Masalayyana Gudda prove its historic antiquity.

Hampi, capital of the famed Vijayanagara Empire, reached its peak of medieval glory between the 14th-16th centuries. Thanks to chroniclers like Nuniz, Paes, Conti, Razak, Sewell, Longhurst and others, and the many structures surviving despite the centuries of benign neglect, Hampi has both a well-documented past and numerous extant monuments. The Tungabhadra river connects the older capital, Anegundi village on the north bank with Hampi on the south side. Temples like Virupaksha and Vittala, civic buildings like elephant stables and Lotus Mahal, water works like Queens Bath and the stepwells, ceremonial sites like Mahanavami Dibba and Kings Balance are all located within the old fortified area, along with a few small villages.

The revival of interest in this forgotten empire is a relatively recent phenomena, fuelled in part by improved accessibility, increased pilgrimage, extensive archaeological works, research by foreign scholars, world heritage listing and tourist inflow. While Hospet town supports most visitors by way of transport, lodging and boarding, local facilities have also developed at Virupaksha Bazaar, Virupapura Gadde and Kamalapura village, unfortunately without following any guidelines or being subjected to monitoring. The rising demand has attracted immigrants in search of easy money, homes are being converted into cheap guest houses, there are early signs of drug peddling and fertile land is being replaced by shanty cottages. It is the mix of such ‘objectionable’ developments along with the bridges coming up across the river and neglected monuments that forced Unesco into placing Hampi on the list of endangered sites.

The last three years have given rise to many conflicts pitting people and politicians, government and Unesco, scholarly opinion and local needs against each other. A range of suggestions have been advanced, including demolition of bridges, evacuating bazaars, restricting vehicular movement, building a visitor’s centre, preparing management plans, fencing of monuments and such others – each with related repercussions. They once again prove that more than a dearth of ideas, what we face is a weakness of implementation.

 

 

Often, a question with no easy answers gets expanded. Possibly, the question of Hampi too has been an expanding one. The original concerns were raised in the late 1970s by public intellectuals like Shivarama Karanth, M.V. Kamath and others. Since then, dozens of reports, books, research notes, seminar papers and dossiers have been produced by agencies like ASI, State Department of Archaeology, Tata Consultancy, INTACH, HUDCO, NID, Unesco, Vijayanagara Research Project, Department of Tourism, NGOs, and SPA. In addition, individual consultants from India and abroad have studied and made suggestions for Hampi. From the notebooks of these individuals, it is clear that the concern about Hampi has affected even Unesco, reflecting global salience though local problems are yet to be solved. A new phrase, ‘cultural landscape’, has since displaced ‘historic zone’ just as ‘heritage management plan’ has replaced ‘conservation proposals’. There is, however, widespread consensus about the need for some regulation and fortunately, the government too has responded.

The frenzy of remedial activity saw new authorities designated, built structures indiscriminately razed to the ground, a ban imposed on new construction, monuments fenced, cultivation controlled, signage put up and, even public toilets built. Undoubtedly, these measures helped restore some faith in the survival of Hampi, as evident from the public response during recent stakeholders meets. These efforts of consultants and authorities in disseminating information and holding public hearings, are among the first few in the field of heritage conservation in India. Hopefully, Hampi’s march along the path to ruin has been halted, providing once again an opportunity to focus on the core issues.

 

 

It almost appears as if celebrating our heritage has been accorded greater importance than saving it. Over the years of discussing Hampi – personal and subjective opinions or authoritative policies – some critical issues have got sidelined. The global concerns have been so interpreted as to dominate local interests, even while it is admitted that world heritage parameters cannot and should not affect the daily living of people who are prominent stakeholders. Eager to address cultural and heritage issues, the government has even started a Kannada Language University in Hampi, initiated an annual three day long cultural festival and accorded overriding priority to tourism. Needless to say, such measures skirt the core conservation issues.

The floodlighting of the Vittala Temple complex in the name of show-casing heritage may have actually damaged it in many ways. Recently, even as one of the controversial hanging bridges across the river was demolished, the more critical one connecting Anegundi has been left half finished. The Hampi World Heritage Site Management Authority, formed after directives from Unesco, continues to remain impoverished with lack of staff, funds and technical ideas. Its approval for the construction of a visitor’s centre has all the makings of the next controversy, given its potential to not only visually dominate the landscape but create a concentration of activities within the core area.

Most of the developments at Hampi are attributable not to the government but the local people. They respond to the initial demands of tourism, created new facilities and often contributed to the safety of structures and visitors. Today as new regulatory interventions become imminent in the face of increasing personal interest and threatened heritage, it is slowly sinking in that these interventions should have involved the residents. Only recently has a detailed consultative process been initiated with the users. Also, the older experts continue to be ignored, each new institute or agency selecting/appointing new people for surveys and monitoring, resulting in unnecessary data duplication, a clear syndrome of rediscovering the wheel. What instead is needed is a multi-disciplinary team in which the wisdom expressed earlier could play an important role in increasing sensitivity about Hampi.

 

 

Theoretically, efforts at conservation should be coterminous with the completion of a building. As such, every user is aware of certain commonsense actions that should form an integral part of maintenance strategies. However, our theoreticians aver that only qualified people are capable of handling conservation. For them the proper sequential process first involves site study, then data collection and analysis, and only subsequently any intervention. Without discounting this understanding, Hampi also requires some measures to run simultaneously with conservation planning and fortunately many such ideas find common acceptance. Implementing them with local participation can build confidence, while enabling the process to be parallel and inclusive instead of being sequential and exclusive. Such a proactive approach can also help establish appropriate systems, facilities and infrastructure as a natural outcome of the process. Unfortunately, all that we have so far experienced are assertions about what may be appropriate solutions for Hampi. When queried as to why they have not been implemented, the explanation invariably advanced is lack of infrastructure/resources and systems.

 

 

In most historic contexts, deterioration occurs not because of conscious wrongdoing but an absence of right action. Accordingly, the recourse should not be to focus on the negatives hoping to eliminate them, but simply to implement the right type of actions which could naturally rectify the wrong. Hampi’s problems largely belong to this category. The general ignorance of both public and private actors about heritage, coupled with some insensitive interventions has reduced Hampi to its present state. It’s not too late for the right actions to have an energizing effect on the place.

It is not that Hampi is any more degraded than other historic sites. The advent of modern ideas and changing times have affected all cities and settlements alike. Growing individualism, commercialism and decline in collective effort have resulted in increased public apathy, diluting the significance of the word ‘stakeholder’. Every resident of and visitor to Hampi cannot be a stakeholder. It reflects a sense of longing and belonging, of giving and taking, where the stakeholder should be claiming the stakes. Fortunately the recent controversies have resulted in more people thinking responsibly about Hampi and appear to have generated a feeling for the place. Any worthwhile approach to conservation needs to adopt the mode of participatory decision-making, more so at Hampi.

Hampi constitutes a unique context where pilgrimage, tourism and festivities keep the region busy round the year. Incidentally, it is faith that has possibly contributed most in preservation. In such centres, tourism should only be a by-product of its potential and not the overarching focus. Instead by promoting tourism as a key objective, the real core responsible for sustaining Hampi would be diluted. The strength of Hampi lies in the coexistence of the sacred and profane, the natural and man made, medieval and modern, exclusivity and excitement, implicit faith and explicit struggle. Conserving Hampi should also mean conserving these contradictions.

 

 

Unlike current trends in modern architecture, global conservation practices underscore the importance of the local in our ideas and actions. Re-localizing Hampi, however questionable this may appear given the central importance of Unesco today, appears to be the desired path. To this end, we need to draw as much on the profession as on passion. Passion does not distinguish between landscape, temples, history, ecology or such professionally created division of disciplines. No insular disciplinary focus can help create a multi-disciplinary team to respond to Hampi in its entirety. Instead we need to focus on concerns determined collectively by varied disciplines such that our interventions attend to the integrity of the place and ensure its continuity.

 

 

Many of our modern conservation actions, possibly unconsciously, introduce discontinuities into an erstwhile continuity of history. At its best heritage expresses continuity; as such leaving the flow alone would be the most judicious action. Unfortunately, many of our interventions reflect the conversion of our past into a battleground in order to create a future. We have not realized that notions of past, present and future are only self-generated definitions, with no actual bearing on the notion of continuity.

We should see the bazaar built yesterday, the shops being built now and the yet to be built shopping malls of the future together, simultaneously, here and now. If so, what is a historic building? The conservation movement has attempted to classify old buildings as historic, hoping to create an exclusive niche for them so that they get priority. No wonder we refer to monuments and historic cities more in the past than in the present tense, even though they equally live in the present. Unfortunately, such thinking has been relegated to the back seat in India, with only the modern sensibility being accorded priority. We insufficiently appreciate that buildings of the past, the constructions of today and structures of tomorrow all coexist. Acknowledging this coexistence would affect the professional identity of the conservation movement, but philosophically it may equally empower conservation as continuity.