Rajpath is an arena of great urban significance, equal to the Mall in Washington D.C. and the Champs Elysees in Paris. In the 70-year history of the site, since its original conception by Lutyens, there have been many additions, as would be expected of any important public arena in the capital of a newly independent country. Most of the ministry structures built along the adjacent flanks date back to the 1950s and 1960s. Without exception, each is a poor cousin of its antecedent on Raisina Hill, each a step away from the monumental tradition of design quality and construction workmanship set up by Lutyens. Phrases like PWD Classic, Government Moderne and Cement Baroque have often been used to describe their dreary monotony, mediocre design and poor craft.

In the last 30 years, the Washington Mall has similarly added numerous structures to its controlled skyline. Amongst them are the Air and Space Museum, the Hirsch Horn Gallery and the new National Gallery, each a landmark addition to the urban sequence, each using the skill of some of the finest architects. In the same period in Delhi, the government has approached the Central Vista with lackadaisical indifference: a 25 year-old Gallery of Modern Art project, yet to be opened; a 20 year-old Indira Gandhi National Centre for Arts project, open but incomplete; the External Affairs Building, 10 years in discussion, five years in architectural competition, and finally — against the advice of its self-appointed committee — awarded to itself.

Since the CPWD has chosen to redefine the cultural life of the capital after Lutyens, is it a wonder then that television news reports from India invariably use India Gate or the Rashtrapati Bhavan as a backdrop for their story, and never any other architecture built after independence? If there was ever a new symbol of India’s post-independence architecture it would have to be the Bhavans that every state capital has added in its most prominent locations; these, in addition to the thousands of government housing colonies and self-financing schemes that repeat in virtually endless smudges across city horizons. Bureaucratic citadels, shabby and spiritless, tainted by the monsoons as much by graft, they are the permanent markers of the landscape, the new public face of India.

... contd.