Hanuman reshapes Shimla's Landscape?

Azur vivace d’un espace
Ou chaque arbre se hausse
A la recherché de son âme.
Jules Supervielle

Around a year ago I made the following comments on this blog about Jakhoo forest in relation to Christ Chruch:

‘Although Christ Church is the icon of Shimla it is dwarfed by the mountains all around, the geography of Shimla mall soars up behind Christchurch like a wall which leads to Jakhoo peak, home of Hanuman. Now, Jakhoo temple can’t really be seen from the Mall, or the lift, unlike Christ Church, because it is hidden behind a covering of sacred deodars... Jakhoo then does not stand (as Christ Church does) proudly for all to see as a man made construction that reminds us of Divine creation, rather it sits engulfed in the Divinity of the natural world. As such it mirrors the mountains that are visible surrounding Shimla, many of them topped with temples whose beauty and serenity far surpasses that of Jakhoo in my opinion, but nevertheless operate in a similar way’.

How times change, now, ushered in by a movie star, Hanuman towers over the trees and looks down on the town below. So, my theory is clearly shot, but given this I now have questions for all my Shimla friends: how are people on the ground seeing this transition? Is the explicit branding of the forest landscape as the realm of Hanuman more favourable than the previous implicit (yet widely recognised association)? Is Hanuman now the focus of man’s tribute to Divinity in Shimla, not Christchurch? Is this a bold symbol of postcolonial identity, or simply a act of piety? Has the statue changed the character and feel of Shimla? What sort of visual dialogue does the statue have with Christ Church? Is it harmonious, hierarchical, or hostile?

The commonwealth games disappointment and visions of Shimla abroad

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Et in Arcadia ego

I cannot help but be saddened by the whole Commonwealth games fiasco. It doesn’t matter now if the organisers get their act together, or how great the games actually turn out to be – the damage is done. Unfortunately every negative cliché about India is reinforced by the international news coverage and footage of the sports village. To be clear, internationally people are using the word India when talking about this, the problems are seen to be representative of the problems facing the country as a whole, therefore Shimla’s image also suffers. It doesn’t help when problems are dismissed as being due to the culturally relative nature of hygiene, in fact this just furthers the problem. As someone who now doesn’t live in India but who spends a lot of time talking about India I am constantly having to defend it from critics who want to label the whole place as some sort of unhygienic, mismanaged, corrupt , unpractical and irrational place – this is not the India that I know and love.

Just the other week I was in Portugal , talking about the problem of waste disposal management and hygiene systems in a remote part of Himachal Pradesh, when a distinguished American scholar objected to my speech on the grounds that Indians can’t be getting upset about this as they are so used to living in filth that it is normal. I wanted to sigh, but I did my bit and battled back talking about parts of India that I knew where people were not living in the kinds of clichéd conditions that he seemed to believe everyone in the subcontinent inhabited. I think that despite his seniority I stood my ground and won a small victory, but then, after all that, some news like the Commonwealth fiasco breaks and effortlessly overrides my small efforts.

Nothing annoys me more than the constant harping on (in academic and popular circles) about certain problems of a supposedly exotic India. Always people comment on the same features, disorganised markets, filthy streets, chaotic roads, poor orphans and strange Sadhus. Now of course these things exist in Shimla and in other parts of India, but they are not the whole story, heck they are not even the half of it. I have been particularly frustrated when watching ethnographic films about India of late. I was invited to give a guest speech about a film showing an orphanage in Delhi a few months back and all I could say was that the images shown in the film were so foreign to the Delhi that I knew. At the conference in Portugal there was a film shown called the face of Calcutta, which showed an image of Calcutta I could not recognise, despite my wife’s family being based in Calcutta. The friendly place that I know and love was transformed in the film by a vision of Calcutta that betrays a gaze fixed on poverty. The film showed the usual tired clichés: road side dhabas, illegal book printing, fish markets, and begging orphans. I was just crying out for them to stick a shot of Flurys in there, or Mani Square. Surely, this is Calcutta also, these places that are blanked out of existence by reports are real, vibrant and alive. And this is India also, an India of young, vibrant, kind hearted people, boldly dreaming of the future and making that dream in the present, yet this is an India that is almost always filtered out of the essentialising gaze.



I try and do my bit to counteract the vast swell of images and discussions. So, I like to tell people that I am going to show them a Himalayan landscape and stick a picture of IIAS up. Or say, here is a typical image of life in Shimla and show CCD or Barista. And of course I talk a lot about Shimla’s churches, which are entirely and authentically, Indian and Himalayan.

Shimla Ghost Stories

In 1947 the British left the country but left their ghosts behind.
Ruskin Bond

One misty evening I was driving home from the mall to my house in Tawi with my sister–in–law riding pillion. I had an old scooter and loved to get off the main roads - driving along Shimla’s winding roads on a two wheeler without other traffic is a joy, but when you are stuck behind a line of buses and trucks it is quite another experience. Therefore, on this day, as I often did, I took the small road that winds from Boileauganj to Chakkar and so as not to spoil the peace I turned off my engine and free wheeled down the hill. As we moved silently through the ever darkening and misty forest road I remembered a ghost story collected by Minakshi Chaudhry about an encounter that a vegetable seller had on this road with an English ghost. Knowing that my sis reacted to such things I decided it would be fun to pull in on the deserted roadside and relate to her the story of the madly laughing English woman, the vegetable seller and the broken nose. The tale had more than the desired effect and filled with fear of ghosts she struggled to sleep that night, which left me feeling guilty.

All in all it was probably not my finest hour, but remembering this now I do wonder at the way that British Ghosts who are real in Shimla interlink with the ghostly presence of the former British residents. It would be wonderful if people could tell me how they reconcile the two. Or perhaps people could share their own ghostly encounters in and around the Shimla hills. It would be great to hear of any ghosts associated with the churches, but beyond this I would be genuinely pleased to hear of any stories that people have.

Monsoon rains

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Forget the ink, the milk, the blood –
all was washed clean with the flood
we rose up from the falling waters
the fallen rain's own sons and daughters
Don Paterson
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The monsoon now has hold in Shimla with 72.3 mm of rain falling last Sunday and already it has sadly begun to take human life in exchange for the life giving waters that it brings. I remember well how I longed for the long awaited Monsoon to begin in Shimla last year, for the rain to come and wash away the dust of June and bring water to those who were in such desperate need. I remember clearly the joy that I felt when the rain fell and the fun of driving along the flooded mountain passes on my scooter in the monsoon rains.

No amount of waterproof clothes could stop the rain from penetrating through and soaking the skin, but back at our humble home wet clothes would be hung-up to dry and with a cup of warm coffee and a blanket wrapped around us we would sit and watch the trees who continued to receive the kind of soaking we had just experienced.

Ingold has recently spoken about how the weather is such an important phenomenon for our experience of a place that it is strange that anthropologists don’t talk about it more often. I certainly remember the Shimla rains as transformative. They transformed the forest paths that lay about our house to waterways and the tree lined hills became carpeted with low lying vegetation. It was a breathtakingly beautiful time of the year, for me it pips the much famed Shimla snows.

Of course eventually the monsoon begins to drag, not so much the rains but the mist that comes floating into the house making it impossible to dry clothes and leaving its mark on the ceilings and walls, but that is the wonderful thing about seasons as one is ending I am always ready for the next one to begin.

That on the whole I loved the monsoon is not surprising, for I love rain in general. I was in my home town of Manchester (UK) the other week, it was cold and raining and my heart was filled with joy. I think I love all rain and in this I am therefore very different to Tagore, who while loving the monsoon rain hated the rain of the English summer. This feeling is captured in a letter that he wrote to his daughter during a summer that he spent in England:
“Shraban having crossed the oceans, has turned up in England: if it has a short stay return ticket then perhaps the poet, once he has blessed it, may soon bid it adieu. In a cold country there can be no worse companion than the rain” Tagore.

I can’t disagree with him more, I firmly believe that in both a cold country and in a cold state, like Himachal, (note the implicit essentialization of India in his letter) the rain is wonderful. It washes the earth, cleans the streets, brightens the plants and feeds my soul. But more than this, there are few better feelings in life than spending time in the cooling rain and then coming back inside and being dry while the rain continues to fall.

Shimla in the movies and Theog Ra Gappu

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‘Once Bollywood discovered Shimla and its splendour
thy could not but return to it
again and again’

Bande 2009

The quote above is by writer and teacher Usha Bande and is taken from her recent review of films shot in and around Shimla (‘Real Shimla in Reel Shimla’). Shimla has certainly provided an important backdrop for the unfolding of many bollywood movies and international documentaries. However, yesterday I received the pleasant news that some friends of mine from Shimla state have recently set up their own film company and launched their first film Theog Ra Gappu.



I have not yet had a chance to see the film, although I do have a copy on the way to me and am looking forward to seeing it. I cannot comment therefore on the content but I am sure that it will provide a refreshing antidote to the mainstream films about Shimla, which reflect a tourist experience of the place. I also have a hunch that at least parts of the film may be set away from Shimla Mall in the wonderful landscapes surrounding Theog.



I have very fond memories of the Theog area, which I would often drive to at weekends for a game of football. The air always seemed fresher than down in Shimla, the pace of life quieter, more relaxed. Sitting in the shade of tree, on a sunny afternoon, in a Theogian forest glade, I would feel a kind of peace. The kind of peace that is rarely felt in the city, except perhaps inside Christ Church, on an early Sunday morning, when only the crows are awake.

Historical networks and networking through history

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'I am History: of two lost centuries
Of centuries lost in the time of the colonial
Of centuries lost in the time of the colonized'

KKT

After a hectic few weeks of conference organisation, thesis marking and general end of term assessment duties I finally have the space to write again. Despite the whirl of work here I have been keeping track of events in my old home Shimla and was interested to hear of the Sri Lankan president’s wife’s remarks on Shimla the other day. Reportedly, when asked what she intended to do while In Shimla she replied “This town holds links to a common history and I would like to visit all the heritage places during my stay here,”. This set me thinking about the way that the unique history of Shimla adds value to the present at the same time as connecting it with other places.

I have been reading lately a lot about Actor Network Theory, or ANT for short. This argues that it is useful to look at the world topologically. By which it means in terms of flows and connections. It is therefore argued that, because of the flow of people, ideas and commodities between Delhi and London, Delhi is topologically closer to London that it is to Shilong. Thinking of the world this way therefore complicates notions of a bounded Nation State.



Returning to the comments of the Sri Lankan visitors to Shimla I cannot but wonder at their choice of emphasising shared historical connections over present day connections and I wonder where this leaves ANT. Perhaps more importantly it reminds us that the sign on Shimla Mall which proclaims our built heritage is our identity is only part of the story. Shimla’s built heritage is not only important for the identity of Shimlites but also for that of others.

I began this post with a stanza by the Assamese Poet, Kamal Kumar Tanti, the poet envisages the colonial period as a period of lost history. That is to say not that the colonial history is lost to the present, but rather that in the story of the collective history of Assam, 200 years of organic development was robbed from the Assamese people. It is as if the Colonial period was a period of 200 years torn out of the timeline of the Assamese who disappear from history for this period only to reappear again after the colonial period has ended. This view of history seems to be in direct contrast to Shiranthi Rajapaksha’s understanding. In her vision Shimla is not so much an alien interruption in the history of India as an important site, which facilitates connection with the history of India and a broader history that includes Sri Lanka.



I would like to conclude today’s musing by turning my thoughts away from Shimla and back to London, or at least Oxford. For, it has always seemed to me that the past network flows between the British Isles and the Indian subcontinent have also left a historical trace on the UK. This is the topic of discussion in the forthcoming Oxford conference Bharat Britain: South Asians Making Britain 1870-1950. As part of the conference they will launch a more permanent exhibition and database that I will certainly be keen to explore as soon as possible.Maybe we can discover more about how Shimla has shaped the UK.

Is Shimla’s landscape a churchscape?

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'A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now’

T.S. Eliot

I was listening today to a speech by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, delivered at Lincoln Cathedral. In this speech he suggested that the church building is a witness of dependability: a place that speaks of a longer time scale and vision than most people work with. Given the way my mind works this of course set me thinking about Shimla and the way that the churches there create a sense of continuity with the past. In my previous post we discussed the way that interactions with heritage buildings give people a sense of rootedness and some of the problems with modernist architecture. It seems to me that the churches are particularly good at this form of Witness even though many of those most involved with them are unaware of this.

In thinking about such things I am reminded of Greenage’s book New Jersey Churchscape, in which he argues that New Jersey (known as the garden city) should really be known as a Churchscape, because the most iconic and eye catching feature of the landscape is the churches. Now, in Shimla as well the churches form a key aspect of the heritage landscape. Christ Church can be seen from virtually every angle on the mall and people are drawn to it.



But it also stands in dialogue with St Andrew’s, the former Scottish Church, which is today the Himachal Pradesh University's centre for evening studies. St Andrew’s Eastern alignment has been cleverly manipulated, by moving the tower to the side, which furthers the sense that the two churches are talking to each other across the expanse of the ridge.



St Michael’s by contrast is more tucked away at Ripon place, yet it is on a key route to the mall from the buss stand and along the mall from IIAS, as such it is something that you stumble upon through the trees, on your way to and from the mall like a hidden gem.



Is Shimla then also a city of Churchscapes? When people walk along the mall are they more drawn to secular buildings, such as Gaity theatre? Or is it the mass of Jakhoo hill, with the unseen presence of the temple atop, that calls to them? Or, are people drawn to the timeless mountains, snow-capped in winter, that tower above Shimla from afar?

If the continuing growth of modern architecture threatens to ruin the landscape of Shimla, is it the old Colonial architecture that makes it? Or, is this also something that intrudes on the true beauty of Shimla, which is the Himalayan peaks and forests?

Heritage and Identity

Everyone knows that Shimla mall has a special landscape; it evokes, provokes and draws people from all over the county. In Shimla there is a wonderful sign which reads ‘Our built heritage is out identity’. But what identity does Shimla’s built heritage give? And how does it fit with wider national identity? I remember asking this one afternoon to a wonderful, wise, old resident of Shimla as we strolled along the Mall, after taking some cardamom tea in Honey Hut. He was very uncomfortable with the question and became unusually irritable: in nearly a year of acquaintance the only time I had seen this side of him before was when I talked of holding a football training session on a strip of grass near his house. I am still a bit puzzled today as to why he was so reticent to discuss this, but I also feel that there is something about the question that is unsettling. I will mull on this over some supper and perhaps post more on it soon.

Caste and Christianity

I have been reading today about the problems of caste divisions within Christian churches in India. According to Robinson et al Caste divisions have often been present in church Congregations. A famous historical case is the church at Vadakkankulam, in Tamil Nadu, which in the mid 19th Century had a 20 foot high brick barrier running down the centre, which divided high and low caste congregants. In more recent times Caplan noticed in Madras a considerable conflict between high caste and low caste members of the church. This all makes me wonder about the churches in Shimla and if Caste politics ever plays out there?. Although there is no physical wall dividing people in Christ Church or St Michaels is there a less visible yet nevertheless just as real division?

On the whole people never explicitly raised the issue of caste with me in Shimla – this goes for both Christian and non–Christian Shimlites. I do remember scattered occasions, but these were rare and fleeting moments. One such moment occurred during tea one Sunday when a member of one of the two churches mentioned to me that Caste division still occurs in the villages around Shimla, a claim which was backed by an offer to take me to villages where people of a lower caste are not allowed in certain public buildings. I remember that I declined the kind offer, but asked if caste was ever an issue in Shimla itself, -‘you’d be surprised’ they replied in a lowered voice. Other than this caste never really presented itself explicitly to me and I wonder if it is because of an obsession with caste by academics (post Dumont) rather than the centrality of caste in lived reality that causes it to crop up so much in literature about Christians of India?

This is not to say that I didn’t spot denominational and inter–denominational divisions in the Christian (and wider) communities of Shimla, it is rather that these were never articulated explicitly as caste divisions. Rather they were stressed as divisions of upbringing (whether one is from a good family), and/or education. There was also a division between those who saw themselves as maintainers of tradition and those who saw themselves as reformers of a tradition that could be at times overly exclusive. Not to mention issues of regionalism, language, styles of worship and economic background that all divided the congregations in clear ways. Are all these things symptoms of Casteism? Or are they rather symptoms of more universal phenomenon that occur the world over whenever a diverse group of people are brought into communion with each other?

Shimla Now and Then

I came across a rather startling blog entry by a young Goan while surfing the web for information on the early Goan church other day (http://lilliandcosta.wordpress.com/2009/05/04/goa-was-better-off-in-the-hands-of-the-portuguese/). The title of the post was Goa was better off in the hands of the Portuguese. Now, I don’t think anyone I met in Shimla would go as far as to say such a thing as Shimla was better off in the hands of the British, yet I did encounter many parishioners (both Catholic and Protestant) who believed (rightly or wrongly) that the guidance of the church and the young benefitted in the past from a greater contact with European clergy. Of course any such opinions are by nature speculative and subjective, yet they are also revealing of the way that many Shimlites (especially Christian Shimlites) find themselves at the centre of a tension between what was, is and shall be.

Three in One

I think that what I have been trying to suggest is that Shimla city moves its average visitor through a journey of sacred spaces. Starting with the lift Temple associated with the modern era, noise, chaos, humanity, the absence of beauty, being enclosed, darkness, limited visibility etc. To Christ Church and the ridge, associated with the Colonial era, quiet, manmade order, humanity pointing to nature, manmade beauty inspired by nature, both overlooking and being overlooked, light, extreme visibility etc. To Jakhoo Temple associated with the mythic era, the quiet whisper of nature, natural order, natural beauty augmented by man, overlooking, the sun (and heavens), blended visibility. All these sights are moved through chronologically by the casual visitor, with all being moved through twice apart from Jakhoo (once on the way up and once on the way down). Jakhoo then is the peak of the revelation of the Divine that Shimla offers – it is both literarly and figuratively the zenith of its landscape. Spatially these all involve am movement up, there is not much horizontal movement on this journey the movement is largely vertical and each space is encountered in the context of the previous, with the insight imparted by the previous. There is also a movement to do with association of time here from the present to the colonial to the mythical and each space not only progressively deepens our reach through time but also is a living space that carries through the others without rupture. That is to say that Christ Church not only draws from the colonial past but is very much alive and contributes to post colonial Shimla. Jakhoo not only reminds us of the mythical past, but draws us through the colonial period to the modern age, where it also is alive today as an important point of pilgrimage. Here then connected by space and time are three sites of religious worship that are encountered by the visitor and which encapsulate the multi–layered nature of modern Shimla.
Of course I am talking here about the average day/or weekend tripper, how these spaces are encountered by more frequent visitors and local residents is a different story altogether and I think the subject of another day.

Jakhoo Temple (1.3)

Although Christ Church is the icon of Shimla it is dwarfed by the mountains all around, the geography of Shimla mall soars up behind Christchurch like a wall which leads to Jakhoo peak, home of Hanuman. Now, Jakhoo temple can’t really be seen from the Mall, or the lift, unlike Christ Church, because it is hidden behind a covering of sacred deodars. To get there involves abandoning modern transport even more, no car, no lift, instead most people walk up the path that winds behind Christ church and through the forest. Jakhoo then does not stand (as Christ Church does) proudly for all to see as a man made construction that reminds us of Divine creation, rather it sits engulfed in the Divinity of the natural world. As such it mirrors the mountains that are visible surrounding Shimla, many of them topped with temples whose beauty and serenity far surpasses that of Jakhoo in my opinion, but nevertheless operate in a similar way. Nearby there is Tara Devi, from which the peace of the mountains begins to descend on you, as the wind toys with your hair. Behind the old temple is a newer Shiva temple, which is beautifully carved from the scared deodar trees that can be seen all around. Even further away, yet more /or less visible from Shimla mall on a clear day lies Hatu peak, a place where it is possible to stand and see nothing but trees stretching out bellow. And here two a new temple is being skilfully crafted by Himachali artists from sacred deodar wood. These temples then point to the divinity of nature in a far more direct way than Christ Church and like Christ church they point to the past as well as existing in the present.
My point is perhaps made stronger if I return my wandering gaze to Jakhoo hill once more. Here we have a place that, unlike the elevator area and temple, clearly engages with Shimla’s colonial history. As with Christ Church there are wonderful tales of Characters from the Colonial period who worshiped there. I am thinking particularly of that fellow who one often hears about (a Brit I think) who converted to Hinduism and lived on the mountain, in the forest of Jakhoo, it is said taht he was able to talk to the monkeys... it is frutstrating not remembering all the details and many of my notes are lost in transit (one box of books shipped from Shimla arrived here several weeks ago, yet the other sent at the same time is still to arrive, we know it made it to Delhi and then the expensive tracking system we paid for seems to fall apart, although no one is saying this, i worry that it has be lost or stolen along the way) . Anyway if anyone knows the details of this fellow and can provide them I would be grateful. The point is that Jakhoo temple intersects with that period, but it also points back beyond it. It points back to the founding of Shimla and even beyond to the mythical age when it is said That Hanuman stopped there on his way back from collecting the Sanjeevani booti. Jaknhoo hill moves us closer to nature again and connects the postcolonial period back through the colonial period to the pre-colonial period.

Up The Lift to Christ Church (1.2)

The Shimla lift takes you from the cart road to the mall and seemingly transports you to an otherworld (interestingly skipping the lower bazaar, which is another story again), where the more organic vernacular architecture gives way to the imposing Colonial structures. The largely car free mall road, although bustling with life, is quieter and more restful than bellow, at times it is possible to glimpse over the buildings and see the tree lined hills soaring above and the delightful valleys bellow. Dogs impose peace on the space by lazing restfully in the middle of the paths that the humans bustle along and the wide streets are swept clean of litter, by both human workers and the ever watchful non–humans. A sense of history now comes to the fore, whereas the cart road seems like any small new town in modern India here people notice things about the buildings and tell stories of the events that they heard occurred here in the past. From more or less anywhere on the Mall you can see rising above you Christ Church Cathedral, most people make their way to the ridge, buy some popcorn or ice cream, look at the hills, and then take a picture outside Christ Church. It is almost emblematic of the entire mall space and it is what Shimla is to many tourists. Christ Church itself is designed in an orderly fashion and upon stepping inside even the noise of the mall drops away, hundreds of visitors (of all faiths) have recorded in the visitor’s book that the thing that strikes them most about Christ Church is a sense of peace. Furthermore the church is designed to draw attention to certain aspects of nature: its towering Gothic structure draws the eyes up towards the heavens (in a mimicry of the surrounding mountains) and in contrast to the temple below, inside it is filled with light that spills in and refracts through the cleverly designed windows in ever changing ways. Thus, the church is a man made structure that draws attention to both the past and nature and the presence of divinity within these. It reminds us of order, of peace and calm, it stands for something that connects the past and the present in a seemingly timeless way and encourages you to abandon bustle and give in to peace. The Church is no museum piece but is still very much alive enriched by a diverse group of worshipers who blend the traditions of the past with postcolonial innovations in worship – now and then are tied together.

Space and Place in Shimla: the cart road to the mall (1.1)

Here is a thought that was running through my head in the Sauna today. The average visitor to Shimla city arrives at the elevator, takes it up to the mall, after doing some shopping goes to take a picture by Christ Church and if they are adventurous enough then pants up Jakhoo hill to the temple where they fall easy prey to the canny monkeys. There is a both a spatial and temporal element then to the visit which builds towards the Hanuman Mandir and begins with standing outside of the temple in the car park while waiting for the lift. There is also a movement from the cart road, which is unquestionably of man, to the relatively peaceful, Jakhoo hill whose deodars and monkeys suggest that we are entering more into the realm of nature. Now i myself hate over simplistic nature/culture oppositions, but it seems that there is something in the experience and the understanding of divinity here that makes use of those oppositions. To push it a little further, the first temple that you experience by the lift is incredibly noisy, the road with its horns and roaring still intrudes despite the attempts of teh priests to drown it out by using loud hailers, the temple is built into the side of the hill and behind a car park, so it has no view of the forest or the slope bellow, the way that rubbish thrown from above gathers there and clogs the stream intensifies the feeling of being at the bottom of something. Here then the first impression of Shimla is of a place in which man is wholly dominant. Man and the machinery of course of the lift, the loud hailer, the cars and busses the flashing neon lights and the discards of man’s excess. Yet amongst all this is the temple reminding us that even here, amidst all this, we are not far from the Divine. It is possible to see something of the Divine and to come to know something of the Divine even in this space.

Back in Europe

I am now back in Europe and feel that it is now that this blog can really come to life as a discussion group, I will post up various findings and thoughts from time to time and I hope that all Shimlites, especially Christians, will feel free to comment and contribute to the generation of understanding.