The problem

JAIPUR, even in contemporary popular imagination, remains the city built by Sawai Jai Singh in the early 18th century – India’s first planned city, embodying not merely the architectural and city planning guidelines based upon the vastu shastra texts, but also the early modern, western notions of a city. For its time (and many claim even now), it represented a dramatic departure from extant medieval cities. Yet, even as visitors and scholars continue to marvel over its ordered, grid-like structure – broad streets, criss-crossing at right angles, earmarked sites for buildings, palaces, havelis, temples and gardens, neighbourhoods designated for caste and occupation congregations and so on – what really made the city unusual was not so much its many iconic buildings like the Hawa Mahal, the City Palace complex and so on, but the amazing attention given to water supply and sanitation as also in the planning of open grounds and parks for large gatherings like the Chaugan.

Though enclosed by city walls and protected by a range of forts on surrounding hills, Jaipur, unlike the earlier capital of Amber, was conceived not as the military retreat of feudal warlords but as a commercial city, a business centre of thriving enterprise. Clearly Jai Singh, who foresaw the tectonic shifts likely to take place as the Mughal empire weakened and disintegrated, understood that strength in the new era would come not from standing armies and accretions to territory through conquest but trade and enterprise. No wonder, he chose the site of his new city with care, in the plains on the foothills of Amber adjoining the imperial highway connecting the old Mughal capitals of Delhi and Agra with the pilgrimage centre of Ajmer and eventually the coast.

It is also significant that the people he most actively wooed to his new capital were bankers and merchants, both Vaishnav and Jain, and not distinguished warriors. The city soon became a magnet for a range of crafts and craftsmen – gems and jewellery, textile printing, statue making, brass work and so on – each group provided its exclusive site in the new city. Further, given Jai Singh’s interest in astronomy, the Jaipur state created a welcoming, possibly privileged space, for traditional pundits and scholarship. Both the observatory (Jantar Mantar) he set up at the time and the Sanskrit pathshala (arguably amongst the oldest such schools in the region and one privileged to host the legendary Gopinath Kaviraj) remain subjects of continuing research.

There is little doubt that the ruling clan displayed a sophisticated understanding of power and diplomacy. The Jaipur kings were amongst the first in Rajputana to contract an alliance with the Mughals – preferring peace through servitude to costly if not destructive ‘delusions’ of Kshatriya honour and pride. It is often insufficiently appreciated that the rulers laid great stress on ensuring civic peace – not by practicing what today is called ‘syncretic, secular culture’, but by providing different communities and sects their ‘secure’ space in the city as part of a firm but non-oppressive hierarchic order. This is possibly why the Hindu kingdom of Jaipur, which worshipped the deities of both Govind dev ji and Kali, had space for the Jain community, as also Muslims. In all the focus on its Rajput heritage, people forget that Jaipur (rather Sanganer) is the site of an ancient Jain settlement and that present day Jaipur has close to 2000 Jain temples.

An ability to read and adjust to shifting power configurations as also an openness to new ideas and technology, has served the Jaipur rulers well. Though a princely state, Jaipur enjoyed good relations with the British Raj, learning from the Europeans the value of modern education and medicine, the importance of girls education, and so on. Jaipur not only has one of the oldest public parks (Ramniwas Bagh) and zoos in the country, among the North Indian princely states it was also among the earliest to build a museum, as also establish a College of Art.

Jaipur, however, is more than its past, no matter how picturesque or even overpowering. Takes of early grandeur, helped in no small measure by the presence of impressive buildings as also craft skills, are of great attraction to the visitor. Jaipur, along with Delhi and Agra, attracts a disproportionate share of both domestic and foreign tourists – all keen to savour the delights of the exotic. And there is little doubt that late at night in the winter months, the walled city does appear magical – dim lights, the wispy mist, and the absence of crowds together creating a fairytale atmosphere. Nevertheless, none of this should blind us to the fact that both the walled city and adjoining old settlements are for most still resident there, a place to escape from. Over the years, the sheher has become run down, frayed and decaying, unable to cope with the demands of demography and commerce. As the better-off moved out – as they have done in all old cities – the sheher becomes like an inner city slum, populated by those without resources and choice. Worse, as the centre of elite residence and concern shift, sites that were once a matter of pride invariably become one of neglect, if not derision.

Jaipur today is a three million plus city – many times larger that what it was when it became the state capital in 1950. The story of how and why it was chosen over other competing sites remains to be told, but there is little doubt that the then Maharaja and Maharani, their good relations both with the departing British – polo and shikar – as also the Congress leadership, despite their not being a Congress party in the state, played a crucial role. Becoming the state capital meant a new infusion of capital and people – the setting up of a new university, the medical and engineering colleges, new industry – all of which have gone into the making of a new, hopefully modern and republican city.

The story of the setting up of the University of Rajasthan under the visionary leadership of the erstwhile Diwan of Udaipur, Mohan Singh Mehta, should serve as inspiration to those dreaming of India as an educational superpower. How MSM went across the country and in less than a decade attracted gifted individuals across disciplines – Govind Chandra Pandey (history), Daya Krishna (philosophy), Raj Krishna (economics), Yogendra Singh (sociology), Iqbal Narain (political science), R.C. Mehrotra (chemistry), S. Lokanathan (physics) and P.N. Shrivastava (zoology), to name just a few – and nurtured an environment so that they could set up nationally recognized centres of learning remains an object lesson. As does the development of the university library under the legendary N.N. Gidwani. It is rumoured that when The Hindu celebrated its centenary, the only complete archive was available at the RU Library. In its hey day, the Rajasthan University and its constituent colleges were well on the way of becoming a premier hub for higher education, and this in a state with an abysmal record in modern education.

The role of Krishna Tarve and Hemlata Prabhu in advancing women’s education or that of Dr. Helig, a German Jew who had settled in Jaipur in the interwar years, in giving shape to the Medical College library, at one time the best outside the AIIMS, still inspire awe. So do the contributions of a range of medical professionals – from T.C. Gangwal who set up the first free diagnostic centre in the city as also convinced wealthy jewellers to build dharmashalas for poor patients who flocked to Jaipur for tertiary medicare; P.K. Sethi and his team for their work in the development of inexpensive and culturally appropriate artificial limbs (the ‘Jaipur foot’) as also new polio calipers. In an era when medicine has become more of a profession than a service, keeping alive a legacy that values patient satisfaction without regard for their status, is no mean contribution.

Nor should one forget the role of individuals like G.R. Rao, teacher of English in the engineering college, but better remembered as the country’s best-known expert on bonsai, someone who put together the country’s largest collection of cowries, and who pioneered the movement for recycling household waste. Equally noteworthy has been the role of the Suranas, jewellers and patrons of music and dance; theatre persons like Pinchoo Kapoor, Mohan Maharshi and more recently actors like Irfaan Khan. And not to forget the kathak maestro Sitara Devi and Pandit Vishwa Mohan Bhatt, the creator of the Mohan Veena, the photographer, Raghubir Singh ‘Khatu’ and the filmmaker Mani Kaul.

It is somewhat intriguing why, notwithstanding such a rich cultural, scientific and aesthetic legacy, Jaipur has, barring rare exceptions, been unable to retain a vitality in these domains. This despite a proliferation of new institutions of post-school learning and research, particularly for girls education. Old timers invariably lament the role of Delhi in the destruction of other centres of learning in its periphery. Over 30 teacher-researchers, for instance, shifted from Rajasthan University to Jawaharlal Nehru University in the early 1970s. And while many of them made a mark in the national capital, their departure probably dealt a near fatal blow to Jaipur and its ambition of emerging as a vibrant educational hub.

Similar stories of past glory and a less salubrious present mark many other aspects of life and living. The slow decline of iconic food shops and traditional cuisine, the absence of new exponents in classical music, dance and theatre, or literature and poetry. One can never be quite sure if the lament about and the nostalgia for the past is primarily because an uncertain present usually makes the past appear somewhat more attractive. Nevertheless, one does wonder whether the emergence of a range of new activities, skills and enterprises will result in something that can stand the test of time.

Finally, a word about the changing political culture. It is worth remembering that for the first two and a half decades since its creation, Rajasthan was seen as a ‘peaceful’ state; Jaipur, which did not face communal riots even during 1947, despite a substantial Muslim presence, experienced its first such clashes only during the Ramjanmabhoomi agitation. The political class, across party and ideological divides, was during the Nehru years, respected and accessible. Much of this has changed, but that possibly may well be a reflection of national politics – greater competition engendered by the participation of erstwhile excluded strata, as also increased stakes in the control of power. No longer does the political class, or for that matter the bureaucracy, enjoy the respect that they once did. And sadly, far too often, their behaviour sets the new norms of public culture. Neither Jaipur nor Rajasthan can any longer lay claim to a more genteel and civilized political culture.

Like many other cities, Jaipur too is learning to negotiate the complex tensions between its past and present, the older settlements, skills and styles of interaction with the new, more frenetic ways of living and doing. Will the new modern respect and draw on the old remains a challenge. Few cities in the world, and definitely none in India, have so far bridged this relationship well.

For Jaipur to have a meaningful and welcoming future, our planners and rulers need to go beyond their focus on iconic buildings, crafts and so on, and reimagine both heritage conservation and development as helping the citizens live better and more aesthetic lives. Inculcating pride in a city is important; cultural festivals, heritage walks and so on help. So does improving the quality of civic infrastructure.

Like all large and growing cities, Jaipur too displays many facets, with people inhabiting many worlds simultaneously. There are the glories of the past – the buildings, the crafts, the food, the culture. There is also the vibrancy of the present – new modes of wealth creation and consumption, a growing migrant workforce from across the country and the emergence of a new aesthetic. Will the new and emerging Jaipur be able to both preserve its legacy and creatively build on it? Myth and memory, even if fraying, retain a powerful presence, forcing the gaze more towards the past than future.

This issue of Seminar presents a few slices of a city and its people, the ‘past’ that was upon which a ‘present’ might be shaped.