Metropolitan Building, Calcutta

“That magician whom I brought from Rangoon is a clever fellow. He has toured all over India as a circus conjurer. The bullet-proof jackets were bought at Whiteaway & Laidlaw’s stores, one rupee eight annas each. They are costing me a pretty penny, I can tell you.” 

– U Po Kyin, a Burmese character in George Orwell's "Burmese Days"

The graceful but poverty-stricken existence and existential conditions of the massive, palatial Metropolitan Building, architecturally and artistically one of the most prominent and underrated of Calcutta’s iconic landmarks, at the corner of Esplanade Square has for the past few years become a concurrent theme for the city’s heritage enthusiasts’ unwavering devoted adoration and unequivocal criticism over lamentable governmental neglect and unsound conservation and maintenance principles – recently given a bright coat of dazzling white paint with glittering golden highlights for its numerous Victorian features, the handsome building that started out as one of the most well-renowned of colonial-era structures in the subcontinent couldn’t have seen worse days – portions of it, including the stained glass atrium, have collapsed and the striking structure has been declared unfit for human occupation while simultaneously being subjected to ever-deteriorating standards of maintenance with the removal of its original exorbitant Italian marble, damage due to water seeping to the expensively replaced woodwork and modifications in the interior layout – the only aspect that has probably remained unchanged in its history thereof is that the majestic structure has always housed a departmental store except for a brief interlude in recent past – it is a little known fact that the building began as Asia’s biggest departmental store in the form of headquarters of the famed Whiteway, Laidlaw and Co., dealers in the latest in English fashion apparel and renowned among the European community of the entire subcontinent (and the Anglicized native population who professed to an unabashed attraction towards European-style fine dressing), today it houses on its huge ground floor the Big Bazaar store, a retail outlet with branches in almost every Indian city promising to inundate the domestic lives of customers with cheap daily-use accessories as well as hundreds of thousands of billboard and print promotional advertisements. 

Regally spread over two massive floors and custom-built by Calcutta-based contractors Mackintosh Burn Ltd. for their clients Whiteway, Laidlaw and Co., the building’s stately Victorian appearance is completed by the presence of three domed cupolas at the corners with clocks embedded in them, tall Corinthian pillars and impressive triangular facades mounted in the center of each face – at present the majestic domes, the ornamental urns that define the rooftop and the Acanthus leaves surmounting the pillar capitals have been drenched in a coat of glistening golden paint that contrasts with the dazzle of the rest of the building’s understated white to create a flamboyant appearance that in no way appears to be unharmonious to my untrained eyes – yet great hue and cry was raised, to no effect, when the visual modification was first perpetrated over the erstwhile all-white color scheme of the structure. Just as it might seem difficult to imagine the Esplanade square without the building majestically seated at its present prominent location, it has become equally difficult to imagine the building now without its glittering highlights. Having glossed over old photographs of the building, I find the present color scheme more heartwarming than the original grey-white monotonous appearance. I just earned several enemies in Calcutta’s heritage circle by confessing so! Nonetheless, as Mr. Ratish Nanda who heads the Aga Khan Trust's much-appreciated conservation-restoration work at Delhi's Humayun's Tomb complex once pointed to me – the purpose of restoration is not to enforce a color scheme or add features that you see fit, but to return to the original design and artwork after removal of such modifications and additions to go back to the artist/architect's original conception. Though I adore the new appearance and find it in general more attractive and eye-catching than the original, I cannot, in any case, support this highlighting on a heritage building since it goes against all laid-down principles of restoration and might well be equivalent to opening a Pandora's box with conservation and landscape architects giving free rein to their own wills of fantasy and beliefs regarding the monument/structure's appearance and layout.

Calcutta's pride

Jocularly christened as “Right-away, Paid-for and Co.” over its principle of not lending credit, Whiteway, Laidlaw and Co. derives its name from the two enterprising Scotsmen who started it in 1882 and ran an impressive business conglomerate with merchandise outlets at Calcutta, Shimla, Madras, Lahore, Burma and Shanghai; the much glossed over Calcutta outlet was the most popular one stop shopping center for British soldiers and administrative officers posted anywhere in south-east Asian colonies and was considered uber-posh and classiest amongst all the centers; the Co. was one of the first pioneers of the concept of "sale days" and introduced "Rupee Friday" in its Indian branches were customers could purchase several items each for one rupee; the accounts however began to dry up after India gained independence following the long and tenuous freedom struggle and the Co. was forced to shut shop and sell the beautiful building to Metropolitan Life Insurance Co. which explains the present nomenclature. At present, the building is owned by the Life Insurance Corporation of India (LIC) and the Big Bazaar operates out of the ground floor and the upper floors, referred to as Victoria Chambers when they housed Whiteway, Laidlaw and Co.’s administrative and official staff, have been quartered and given over to numerous tenants. Imagine my surprise when I first arrived at Calcutta by bus and deboarded at Esplanade (which happens to be one of the largest state bus terminals and an important metro station) and came face-to-face with this striking architectural specimen that most Calcutta residents have come to take for granted – never having read about it since it isn’t generally included in the list of important colonial-era landmarks and not understanding what such a princely structure is doing in the midst of the city, I ended up asking the passer-bys about it, most of whom themselves knew little or nothing! My eyes might have almost popped out of my head due to utter astonishment and surprise on learning that the handsome Victorian building is “just” another Big Bazaar store – thankfully my friends brought me out of my contemplation and we explored the entire area in much detail and observed all the happenings almost all day long. Since then, I have been to Calcutta numerous times and almost every single time end up clicking the building – usually the same shot over and over again – somehow the building, because of its antiquity, gracefulness and immaculately magnificent appearance despite all the loathsome modifications it has been subjected to and the irreverent maintenance conditions that have been heaped on it, attracts me to itself – in its miserably forgotten and ignored state full of gloominess and dejection over its future existence, and yet possessing an air of unparalleled stately splendor and unmatched glamour, the building represents Calcutta – antiquated, much modified from its original pristine state and struggling against its existence in a world that has galloped far ahead in times and yet claiming its fair share of admirers and enthusiasts who are forever willing to wage battles if their beloved is subjected to a single modification – be it the addition of the golden highlights to the building, or the enforcement of the white-blue color scheme for the city. 

Though there isn’t much info available about Mr. Whiteaway, I did chance upon some interesting trivia about Mr. Robert Laidlaw who happened to be a philanthropist and a Member of the British Parliament and donated profusely to charitable establishments and schools throughout the country. He funded and helped maintain numerous World War I relief operations being run by Red Cross and several other charities.

Location: Esplanade (Coordinates: 22°33'48.8"N 88°21'05.9"E)

How to reach: The building is immediately opposite Esplanade bus stop and at a stone's throw from the metro station. Buses and taxis can be availed from different parts of the city.
Timings: Sunrise - 9 pm

Entrance fees: Nil

Photography/Video charges: Nil

Other landmarks located nearby - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Indian Museum
2. Pixelated Memories - Sacred Heart Church
3. Pixelated Memories - Tipu Sultan Mosque

Suggested Reading - 

1. Flickr.com/DBHKer - Whiteaway, Laidlaw & Co., Calcutta
2. Kolkataonwheelsmagazine.com - Metropolitan Building
3. Telegraphindia.com - Article "All that glitters.." (dated July 18, 2010) by Soumitra Das
4. Telegraphindia.com - Article "Jurassic Park-II" (dated April 4, 2010) by Soumitra Das
5. Telegraphindia.com - Article "Save it from Goldfinger" (dated Sep 10, 2010)
6. Thehindu.com - Article "Laidlaw generosity" (dated Jan 14, 2013)
7. Wikipedia.org - Robert Laidlaw

Hetampur Hazarduari Rajbari, Birbhum

Yes I know I haven't written in a long, long time. Cutting a long story short, I was with my friend Kshitish on October 9th travelling from Durgapur (where my college is) to Calcutta to enjoy the Durga Puja festivities when the bus we were in was hit from behind by a speeding truck. Besides breaking my camera, I also ended up with 14 fractures in my left arm when it hit the metal backrest at great velocity. Also my arm muscles got crushed, the skin burst apart because of the impact & the wounds were so severe that I  had to get over 100 sutures, 6 excruciating surgeries & 4 skin grafts. As of now, am recuperating at home - thanks to physiotherapy & medicines, the bones & the muscles are healing gradually, but I still have extensive neural damage that restricts the movement of my joints so I can't open any of my fingers or rotate my elbow & wrist joints. The doctors have advised me not to travel for 3-4 months more atleast. In the meanwhile, I'll complete the articles that I was supposed to write but never got around to researching, starting with this one that I was working on at the time of the accident. I am not guaranteeing that the posts would be regular & numerous like before, but I promise I'll do my best!! Happy reading!!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Next to a wide highway crawling through lush green fields lies a small rural hamlet, more of an agglomerate of mediocre houses, tiny shops & shanties, roadside eateries & unpaved, pockmarked & rain-drenched roads – each of these suitably encapsulated within a little grove of its own by the roadside. Massive trucks & lorries loiter past; migratory birds call their pit stops here; the spread of vegetation soothes the eyes; the water bodies that naturally come to life after every cycle of rains provide spots for the flora of the region to flourish, the fauna to quench their thirst & the kids to escape the tropical sun & the humidity that comes with the rains in this part of the world. Dark, ominous clouds shroud the sky, bringing with them hordes of insects, especially dragonflies, masses of which try to follow every moving body – be it a truck, a person or cattle. The greenery, the highway snaking through it & the gnarled trees – each of these together conspire to present a picture of harmonious bliss, an idyllic setting unimpeded by the rush of modernity engulfing the world round it, undisturbed by the events, big & small, happening near & far. The impression of an Indian village is further completed by the presence of small hutments, still smaller temples & cattle grazing around the fields & the water bodies.

The remains of the impressive palace & the modern school building (right foreground)

But sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of this little green paradise is a huge palace that would perhaps have felt more at home in the plains of Europe. Ill-suited for an Indian setting, it was constructed when the Europeans – the British, Dutch, Portuguese & French – came calling at India’s shores in search of riches & treasures & claimed a position of power & authority to both commission & influence construction activity reminiscent of their native places. The Indian subjects, including the Nawabs & the Zamindars (vassals) - each of them exploited & subjugated in one way or the other - were only too eager to please their European lords in order to avoid further taxation & hardships. The Nawabs, merchants & wealthy govt. officials adopted European cultural & architectural practices – soon, it was Gothic & Victorian architectural that came to define the building scene in India, even in far-flung villages like Hetampur where the British had made their writ established. In 1905, the royal family of Hetampur (a corruption of “Hatempur”, after the then Zamindar Hatem Khan) commissioned a massive Gothic palace, the protagonist of this post, as their privileged residence – the gigantic structure boasts of 999 doors in its plan (one less than the thousand doors of the Murshidabad royal palace as a mark of respect to the most powerful rulers of Bengal), hence christened as “Hazarduari” (“Thousand doors”) “Rajbari” (“Royal residence”) – but one look at the building & one bemoans the fate of the palace that has certainly seen far better days.

Some of the 999 doors - View from an inner courtyard

The Hetampur royal family was established by Radhanath Chakravarty who rose from meager beginnings & subdued the Roys, the then ruling family, to establish a stronghold which he further fortified by buying huge tracts of lands in & around Birbhum & defeating contending rulers & zamindars. He accepted British suzerainty & was granted the title of “Maharaja” (a nominal title, literally “king”, bestowed by the British government; abolished along with the vassal system & hereditary titles when India gained its freedom) by the British Indian government in 1796. His sons & grandsons further expanded the family’s territorial domain & influence & they finally became the most powerful family in the whole of Birbhum, bringing their former masters, the Roys & the Rajnagar family, under their thumb. Maharaja Ram Ranjan Chakravarty (born 1851, died 1912) rendered invaluable help to the government during the disastrous famine of 1874 & was thus granted the title of “Bahadur”. He commissioned the magnificent Rajbari (it was then known as “Ranjan Palace”, christened after the Maharaja) & though he himself did not live long enough to enjoy the pleasures afforded by this Neo-Classical mansion, he left it behind as a souvenir of his rich & fertile reign.

Built to awe - This is just the gateway of the complex!!

A grand red brick gateway, supported by massive Corinthian pillars & interspersed with arched windows & entrances, ushers visitors inside the huge complex that houses the forgotten palace. Marked by slender protruding eaves supported on equally-spaced brackets & topped by several feminine figurines with their arms outstretched, the gateway itself is a commanding structure – the central portion, raised higher than the extremities & supported by tall pillars gives it a militaristic look – on first sight it seems as if there would be armed guards keeping an eye at visitors from the red-painted arched windows on the first floor – but reality often betrays expectations & imaginations – small children no more than 7-8 years of age look at us with wide eyes, giggling & scuttling away as soon as we fish out our cameras. The palace houses a DAV school & a B.Ed college in its premises & hence the young scholars.

The royal quarters

Enter the gateway & one comes against a vast expanse that renders even considering this stretch as part of a palace compound into a struggle. Several trucks were parked shoulder to shoulder, many of them filled with what looked like coal, others revving up & readying to move out; mounds of debris & coal lay hitherto over open, dust-laden ground. Elsewhere, weeds & creepers seemed to have overtaken the entire ground, from the broken wooden doors that lay half-hidden amidst the all-encompassing vegetation to the moss-laden octagonal well that appeared more green than brown – so much so that we could not photograph the twin wings that make up the palace from the front & had to make do with a side shot. Stepping through the desolation, the ruinous state of the once magnificent palace came as no surprise – the thick, yellow pillars had turned brownish-green due to decay; all the features that described the Victorian architecture of the structure, including the ornamental tops of the Corinthian pillars, the plasterwork along the pyramidal roof & other decorative features such as the crenellations along the roof are almost gone, turned into an indecipherable, indistinguishable smudgy mask over the yellow walls & the blue rooftops; most of the original expensive Burma teak doors & windows have since been stolen & were never replaced. That the massive palace was once an impressive example of English architecture in this distant corner of the world is beyond doubt, but today a clothesline & broken furniture strewn around the structure mar the little grandeur & sophistication it is left with. Sadly the interiors are in an even worst state compared to the exteriors – by the means of wooden semi-walls & divisions, the ground floor (painted vivid blue throughout!!) has been partitioned into separate quarters for the several families that now live here. A thick layer of dust covers everything that does not move, from the wooden partitions to the portraits on the walls; in an especially secluded corner marked by thick cobwebs, an old Bajaj scooter stands next to old riff-raff including wooden cupboards, plastic containers, a few clothes & an idol of an old, bespectacled man.

Shabby & ignored - The palace interiors

Through the maze of rooms & their sub-divisions we finally found the stairway leading to the upper floor – a huge trapdoor angled along the incline of the staircase was a surprise to us as this was the first time we were seeing something like this - the heavy steel door could be forced shut at the time of aggression or an enemy siege. The first floor is considerably well maintained compared to the ground floor – the walls retain their original character; the framed photographs hanging on the walls were covered only in a minute layer of dust. The harmony was shattered by a disused, broken wooden palanquin comfortably tacked in the verandah, its musty interiors stuffed with old files & wood shavings, a hay stack lying along one of its sides & submerging the wooden poles that the bearers would have once held to carry the palanquin & the royal personage seated within. In one of the rooms sat the present head of the Hetampur royal family - an old Zamindar bent double with age, whose cough could be heard resounding through the whole floor – one of the attendants tending to him told us that both the "Raja" & his wife are gravely ill, both of them having had a stroke within a quarter year of each other. But the Raja was gracious enough to allow us to photograph his palace provided we did not make much noise (fine, I must have told the attendants about this blog & the other publications I write for along with the sentence “But we have come from Delhi!!” to coax them for permission).

The unique trapdoor

Two of the rooms, now converted into classrooms, still display much of the original paintwork they were embellished with including floral motifs (around the arched doorways & even the light switches!!) & striking frescoes depicting scenes from Indian mythology, splendidly painted & vividly-colored,  executed in arched niches above the many doors that line the room's perimeter. Even the roof overlooking the wide staircase is done in huge, green & pink, four-pointed star motifs inlaid with more floral patterns. From the corridors one can look down to the courtyards enclosed by the palace (& wonder what are those big, black silos doing in the courtyard??). Looking at those numerous doors sprouting out from each wall & guessing which one leads where one indeed feels like “Alice in Wonderland”.

One of the vivid frescoes executed in a large room that now serves as a classroom

The palace building is flanked by an equally large white building which houses the school & college & thankfully possesses considerably lesser number of doors than the palace building. Between the two, a narrow path leads to the roofed shelter where the royal chariot is parked – though the chariot appears as if it could be of service for a few more years, the shelter itself is crumbling apart with the paint flaking off the walls, the pillars caved in at places & the whole area submerged in black muck & hay. One has to get her/his shoes dirty to photograph the chariot. At one time, there must have been elephants roaming the massive grounds of the palace complex & their trainers working on them; Sadly, even the horses are missing at present. Strewn around the shelter lay branches hacked off from trees, perhaps to be used as fuel wood; an upturned & grievously crushed motorcycle stood vertically upturned in the middle of the log pile – hilariously I hoped the inhabitants won't burn the motorcycle when they light the fire!! A large room that can be entered from the door preceding the chariot shelter houses a small police station too. The contribution of the Hetampur royal family towards the police & education system is quite evident – the colleges & schools that exist in this small administrative sub-division have all been founded by the royal family.

Portraits - The one on the top is that of the Chandranath Shiva Temple nearby that is patronized by the royal family

Adjacent to the white building is a flight of stairs that leads to the huge pond teeming with lotuses & flies alike. Sitting on the steps closest to the pond is bliss, especially since my friends Kshitish & Aakash are there to discuss college gossip & girlfriend stuff. It totally turned out to be a boy’s day out for us.

What would it look like in spring!!?

As we stepped out of the small hamlet & started walking along the highway towards our next destination, we fell into a discussion regarding the state of the ruined palace & what would happen to it in coming few years – the Raja & his wife seemed so frail & terribly ill, will their family care for this hereditary possession after they have passed away?? Or will it fall into an even bitter state of neglect & despair?? Interestingly, the Rajbari has featured in several films made by Hindi & Bengali directors, most notable among them being Satyajit Ray!! Regardless of the palace's short & forgotten theatrical association, one is forced to ask why the government should bother with its upkeep & conservation when there are so many more magnificent instances of architecture & heritage lying in equal or worse state of disrepair/disregard. Why would anyone, except for heritage enthusiasts like us, bother about an old, crumbling building that exists in a seldom-visited part of a far-flung state where even basic facilities of residence & safety are non-existent (read my post about the nearby Chandranath Temple here - Pixelated Memories - Chandranath Shiva Temple, we came across a small roadside eatery where even normal-looking bottled beer tasted evil).

I wish I was also taught in a palace :(

Some enlightened souls might argue that some structures are meant to disappear after their lease of life has expired, but they forget that it is us who through our ignorance & selfishness allowed these buildings which form an important link to our colonial past come to a stage where their structure has fallen apart & originality lost. That these should be preserved & restored to their original state even when the monetary/tourism benefits are not foreseeable in the near future is non-negotiable. We can only hope that following this & similar articles the tourists flow in & with them comes awareness & effort before it is too late for this & other splendid architectural specimens.
Our thanks to the Raja for allowing us to photograph his estate to our heart’s delight!!

Location: Hetampur village, Birbhum
How to reach: SBSTC Buses are available from different parts of Bengal to Hetampur. Alternately one can reach Suri, the headquarters of Birbhum & take a bus from there to Hetampur (Approx. 1.5hr away). The Rajbari is known to everyone, ask your way around.
Entrance Fee: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr

Relevant Links - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Chandranath Shiva Temple

Suggested Reading -

1. Facebook.com/An Era of Indian Zamindars, Taluqdars, Jagirdars - Hetampur Raj
2. Flickr.com/Kanad Sanyal - Gateway to Lost Grandeur
3. Iinet.net.au - Hetampur (Zamindari)
4. Telegraphindia.com - Article "When the hurlyburly's done" (dated March 4, 2010) by Anusua Mukherjee
5. Thenomadicarchaeologist.com - Prisoner of Silhouette
6. Travel.outlookindia.com - Feats of Clay - Bengal beyond Bishnupur