The Taj

Jamsetji Nasserwanji Tata had visitors from out of town. A proud citizen of Bombay, he wanted to show his city off to his guests. He took them out to Bombay's finest hotel, where he encountered a sign: "Dogs and Indians not allowed".

Angry but determined, he swore he would build a even greater hotel in Bombay. A hotel that would be counted among the finest in the world. A hotel where Indians and whites, blacks and yellows, Hindus and Muslims, Christians and Jews, Sikhs, Parsees, Buddhists, Jains and Atheists were all welcome.

Mr. Tata kept his promise. Thus was born the Taj Mahal Hotel on Apollo Bunder. The Taj is not just any luxury hotel. It is a special place, resonant with meaning. It is every bit as iconic as the twin towers that were attacked in New York on 9/11.

This is the place that the dirty little insects who crawled ashore on the Sassoon Docks have chosen to attack, the place where they shot dead women and children in the middle of the night.



This hurts more than railway lines that get blown up in the hinterland. This is an attack on an idea of India: an India which is warm-hearted, open-minded and walks the world with its head held high.

This feels like a watershed, a turning point. Where do we turn to? We could do worse than look to the character of Jamsetji Tata himself.

Let the Taj be refurbished. Let it be an even greater, even more vibrant, even more humane place than it's been for a hundred years. May the spirit behind the Taj live on forever. Jai Hind.

The Sultanganj Buddha

Should great works of art stolen by discredited, morally bankrupt empires be returned home?

This question has been rattling around in my head for a couple of weeks, since I stumbled upon a fabulous, life-size, 1500 year old bronze Buddha from Sultanganj, Bihar, in the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery.

My mind came to rest at this thought: a day will come when India is rich enough and proud enough, to care for our heritage. Maybe not in my lifetime, but that day will come. That is when the Sultanganj Buddha ought to return home, perhaps to Sultanganj. But until then, it’s OK for the Buddha to stay on in Birmingham, where it has a place of honour and is displayed with sensitivity, respect and taste.

This is an interesting case, really. It is not an obvious story of rapacious, colonial plunder. This is not like the Kohinoor diamond, which was stolen by Queen Victoria for her crown from the crown of Maharajah Ranjit Singh.

Apparently, this Buddha was consecrated at the center of a Gupta era vihara on the right bank of the Ganga c. 500 AD. The vihara came under military threat c. 700 AD. The monks chose to bury their sacred icon rather than let it fall to their enemies. Their ruse worked. The vihara was razed. The Buddha survived, unseen but unharmed.

About 1200 years later, in 1862, a British engineer was laying a Railway line from Burdwan to Kiul. He was mining earth for ballast to lay under the railway track, and came upon a large, regular block harder than the earth around it. He mined around the block, dislodged it from the earth, chiseled open the block the next morning, and stared into the tranquil face of the Buddha.

The advice from his railway colleagues was to melt down the Buddha into rails. Not unreasonable; there is not a lot else that one can do with a massive metal thingummybob when living on a railway camp 500 miles upriver from Calcutta. But fortunately, a combination of fate, patience and the modern miracle of telegraph communication located a wealthy merchant who was willing to pay two hundred pounds to have the statue shipped to Birmingham. Maybe the Buddha travelled to Calcutta on the same railway tracks that he had so nearly become a part of. The weary Buddha finally reached Birmingham 1867.

The wealthy merchant, Mr Samuel Taylor, went on the become the mayor of Birmingham. On his death he donated his art collection to the city. Mr Samuel Taylor’s name is immortalized on a plaque near the Buddha. I couldn’t spot the name of the railway engineer.

So in what sense does the statue belong in India, or in Sultanganj, more than it does to the city of Mr Samuel Taylor?

One could make legalistic arguments here. The Greek state has trotted out a legal argument about the legitimacy of the Ottoman firman by which the British Museum acquired the Elgin marbles. But the argument which resonates with me (and apparently with the fair-minded British public who overwhelmingly support returning the Elgin marbles to Greece) is an argument about identity rather than legality.

India is not just the land of cricket, curry and customer service call centers. India is Bharatavarsh.

One of the most wonderful things about India - the modern nation state that was born in 1947 - is that India fiercely embraces its history. India isn't just a bunch of lines drawn on a map. India is charged with mythic meaning. India is the heir to the Mauryas and the Guptas, the Cheras and the Cholas, the grandeur of the Moghuls and the grit of the Marathas, heir to both Tansen and to Baiju Bawra. The choice of Ashoka's pillar as India's national symbol was inspired; the symbol of the "soul of a nation, long supressed, finding utterance".

That is the sense in which the Sultanganj Buddha might belong in India. The statue's story feels like the story of India itself. A nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. A magnificient statue, long buried, finds expression. The Sultanganj Buddha in Birmingham is just another beautiful museum-piece. The Sultanganj Buddha in India could be so much more redolent with meaning: the symbol of a great nation, once vanquished, now discovering it's own greatness.

The Sultanganj Buddha has his own tryst with destiny. The day hasn't yet come to redeem that pledge.

The Strange Rise of Modern India

I have rapidly gone from being delighted with this book - because this is a non-Indian writer who clearly gets India like it is - to being bored stiff - because it is telling me nothing that I don't already know. I'm not going to bother ploughing through the rest of the book. But it probably is a nice introduction to modern India for someone who isn't already immersed in the culture.