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?