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 A recent decision to award the work of designing and constructing the new headquarters for the ministry of external affairs to the Central Public Works Department (CPWD) has raked up questions on the state of public architecture in India. Does the responsibility of creating monumental buildings of merit rest with the government or with building professionals or architects? Is the state even concerned about quality in matters of architecture or transparency in the award of large projects?

It is a matter of some concern to the professional architectural community that a legitimate competition for the design of the new external affairs ministry headquarters was scrapped for no reason at all. Held six years ago under the auspices of the Council of Architecture, the competition had invited entries from 14 well-known architects, among them Raj Rewal, Anant Raje, Charles Correa and others. Jaswant Singh, then foreign minister, had rejected the entries on the grounds that none amongst them was ‘suitably grand’ for a site as prominent as Rajpath. This, despite the recommendations of the architectural committee appointed specifically to select an architect.

A minister’s tenure is limited to a few years between elections; a building’s life, by contrast, almost limitless. That the serious work of 14 of India’s most senior professionals can be dismissed as superfluous, suggests something of the unfortunate position of the Indian architect, and consequently, the dismal state of public architecture in the country. Moreover, entrusting the design and execution of a monumental structure that lies in Lutyens Delhi’s most hallowed architectural zone to the CPWD is like asking a Bollywood scriptwriter to make suitable amendments to the Indian Constitution. Though the CPWD has a fine record in general maintenance and building upkeep, it is not known for innovation and originality.

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.

In the urge to reflect India’s high economic growth in its buildings, some in the administration have suggested a complete revamp of government architecture, and the redesign of the entire Central Vista. The Shanghaification of the Indian city is also the dream of many architects who feel that Indian reality — nepotism, archaic construction methods, poor craft and a general meanness of architectural spirit — is best covered up in chrome and glass. A suggestion that is as ludicrous and extreme as awarding all public works to the Department of Public Works. If Lutyens is part of our architectural heritage, so indeed is the CPWD; however archaic and mean-spirited its architecture, it reflects the real history of India’s post-independence buildings.

Certainly, in view of the iconic status of Lutyens, a re-examination of the environment of Central Vista needs to be done. Anywhere else a building of monumental importance such as the ministry of foreign affairs sited on sanctified architectural ground like Rajpath would be considered, designed and built by people and agencies fit for such a heroic, indeed historic task. Moreover, design proposals would be open to public scrutiny and debate. It is a practice followed in France, England and most other democratic societies where transparency of major public expenditure is the norm. Its results are visible in many of the monumental public works executed in recent years, notable amongst them, the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C., the additions to the Louvre in Paris, London’s Millennium extravaganza, and most recently, the designs for the World Trade Centre in New York. In fact, in Jerusalem, every major urban project is placed in a scale model of the city for the public to view, assess and debate, before it is allowed municipal sanction. Only in India are decisions of cultural, civic, and architectural import left to politicians. Is it a wonder that our buildings and cities are dreary and unhospitable?