Kolkata can surprise you. Sutapa Mukkerjee experiences the same when she surveys a few forgotten palaces and mansions in the former British capital and discovers a slice of the Bengal Renaissance along with a few indulgences of its eccentric owners
Joanne Taylor writes in The Forgotten Palaces of Kolkata, “The Great Houses of Calcutta are an important but forgotten part of India’s architectural history. Despite descriptions like Bengal Baroque and Rotten Rococo, these strange palaces and their heady mix of architectural style seem to exist in an exuberant kind of harmony. Neo-classical, Islamic and Hindu elements can be found in both the structure and decoration of these heritage buildings.” She then tells us that the founders of “these 250 to 300-year-old mansions and palaces” were landowners, merchants, intermediaries and cashiers for British leaders like Robert Clive and lord Hastings. “The arrival of the 19th century saw great economic and social changes which influenced the style, architecture and lifestyles of the Great Houses even further. A distinct European influence began to emerge and this new generation built even more extravagant mansions with their inherited wealth,” she says.
With Taylor’s words in mind, I set out for Shobhabazar Rajbari (Shobhabazar Royal Palace) in a tram. In a way, the tram in its time was as aristocratic and convenient as it is now. You seem to sail past the activity around you. And suddenly I hear the trumpet soar, the bugle bulge and the drums beat. All signals that the king is out for his evening sojourn in a horse-drawn carriage... Then the tram halts and deposits me in front of a tall gate mounted by lions on either side. The plaster may have peeled off in parts but the intricate artwork above the arches of the courtyard or the natmandir, where Durga Puja was held with much pomp and splendour, points to a rich past and its even richer patrons. Recent conservation efforts have ensured the lost glory is back on the facade with a fresh coat of earthen colours like yellow, ochre, lemon and green.
Founded by Raja Nabakrishna Deb (1737-97), after amassing considerable wealth following the British victory over Siraj-ud-Daulah, Shobhabazar Rajbari has an iconoclastic appeal. After acquiring this palace in 1757, Deb altered and renovated it in a mish mash style. Describing its unique appeal, Taylor writes, “This was the first of the Great Houses to feature a double-storeyed hollowed square design rather than the traditional sprawling mahals or rooms of the zamindari rural estates. At one time, the palace boasted a famous library of Bengali literature, long since gone.” With a huge labour force, the Thakur Dalan or the puja courtyard was completed in just three months, in time for a lavish Durga Puja festival to celebrate Clive’s victory in the Battle of Plassey.
Raja Nabakrishna did not have a heir. So he adopted his eldest brother’s third son, Gopi Mohan Deb, and proclaimed it with another round of Durga Puja celebrations. Years later, he had a son, Raja Rajkishan Deb, commonly referred to as the Chhoto Raja. So he built another palace for him and started a tradition of celebrating double Durga Pujas.
However, you couldn’t dismiss Nabakrishna for his many frivolities. An erudite scholar, he was the first Indian to receive knighthood for translating the Sanskrit lexicon to Bengali in seven volumes. The Raja had taken help from a team of renowned scholars led by Jagganath Tarka Panchanna and it was at this palace that they spent long hours brainstorming. The quest for knowledge imbued every nook and corner. And so it is here that the Bengal Renaissance took shape. A corner of the temple courtyard is fenced off. Going closer, I learn that Swami Vivekananda held his first meeting in India after returning from the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago here. And I hear him through the rustle of dusk: “I am proud to belong to a religion which has taught toleration and universal acceptance. We accept all religions as true. I am proud to belong to a nation which has sheltered the persecuted and refugees of all religions and nations of the earth.”
A little down the road is the edifice of Dwarkanath Tagore, Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore’s grandfather. Known for his extravagant lifestyle and impeccable taste, a facet which is reflected in the construction, many of his Westerner friends called him ‘Prince’. But it is his grandson’s humility and finesse which welcome the visitor. A plaque goes: “I tuned the sitar and then begun to sing again/ My name should become famous enough/ As one amongst you/ I have no other aspirations/ This be my only introduction.”
I climb to the first floor balcony, done elegantly in granite and red bricks. Most of the palace has been converted into a museum, displaying around 700 photographs and an equal number of paintings. The museum has been divided into three parts — Vichitra Bhavan, Maharshi Bhavan and Ram Bhavan. Vichitra Bhavan has a display of various photographs from Tagore’s life. These include his meetings with the iconic author Hellen Keller, scientist Albert Einstein, his visit to Moscow and Burma. A homely touch prevails with several utensils made out of porcelain and sparkling white marble. The poet’s wife Mrinalini suddenly comes to life as you move to the right of this hall, which used to be her living room. Here she breathed her last. It’s interesting to see Tagore and Mrinalini as newly-weds in the many photographs displayed here.
Maharshi Bhavan has an almirah with the poet’s clothes. This wing has a low bed where the poet loved to recline and includes the room where he passed away. His study showcases his works while a little further down is the discreetly positioned maternity room, where the poet was born. It’s much like a vulnerable womb, sheathing greatness in its midst.
From Tagore’s home, I move to Jodulal Mullick Bari, yet another beautiful mansion replete with legends. Built around 175 years ago, this house rests on beams and pillars made of cast iron. Says present scion Rajat Mullick, “My ancestor and founder had great taste. He was very particular about brands even in those times. Most of the cast iron materials that you see here were shipped from Colebrooke Dale.”
I sit staring at the row of cast iron benches, placed one beside the other and interspersed by broad columns with lion heads atop each. Soon after the entrance is a huge courtyard with well-carved out railings and beams all around. This was the place for public meetings and jatras (rural street plays of Bengal). Tucked in one corner is a window which was covered by a screen and beyond which women would sit and watch proceedings.
The estate owner was the friend of Sri Ramakrishna, who often visited him and discourses between the two would take place for hours. An entire chapter in the text, The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, has been dedicated to these interactions. On July 21, 1883, Ramakrishna had reached a stage of transcendental meditation in front of the Singha Vahini deity (the family Goddess of the Mullicks). Till today, this particular event is celebrated with participation of renowned spiritual leaders.
A perfect blend of spirituality and worldliness is what describes Jodulal best. He was appointed the commissioner of Kolkata Municipal Corporation in 1873. During his tenure, he worked on different taxation issues. A PIl landed him in trouble with Henry Harrison, the then chairman of the municipal body. As a result, Jodulal’s carriage was seized by Harrison’s men. Immediately, the commissioner filed a defamation suit and won the case. All the men involved in confiscating his carriage were punished, while Harrison was transferred. A true patriot, Mullick was conferred the title of “lord” but refused to accept it.
Generations after him became famous for their flamboyant lifestyle. Rajat Mullick mentions with great pride how Jodulal’s son Manmathanath Mullick used to move around in a carriage driven by zebras which were specially brought from Alipore Zoo. “This was the first time in the world that zebras had been domesticated,” he says. Manmathanath had nine carriages, while one of his cousins, Prodyunno Kumar Mullick, had a fleet of 35 cars — 10 of which were Rolls Royce. The family still remains real estate owners like their forefathers.
Then I move to see the Marble Palace. Built in the 19th century, this grandiose building on Muktaram Babu Street is made of marble walls and floors. The larger section is for public viewing, while the inner quarters are still used by the family. There are several well-sprawled out rooms in the palace, which explains the mentality of its owner Raja Rajendra Mullick. He filled up his chambers with ornate furniture, huge chandeliers, candle stands, paintings by Reubens and Reynolds. Huge marble statues of different Greek gods and goddesses depicting different seasons stand mutely on high pedestals. A billiards room is adorned in the same way and is still functional with family and friends playing here every Thursday.
There’s even a room named after Queen Victoria where she stands, 15 ft high, wooden and stolid. Apparently, the statue was carved out of a single trunk of a shegun tree and complemented by tall and delicate Chinese and Japanese vases. There are two wooden sculptures depicting little children playing with a goat on opposite walls. They appear identical but a closer look shows the goat calm in one and angry in the other.
The marble flooring in one of the rooms copies the motif of a Persian carpet which is still preserved for you to compare. And when I step out of the doorway, I am politely asked to pay a visit to the zoo. What, a zoo in the middle of a buzzing locality in north KolkataIJ Much to my amazement I find colourful birds like the hornbill, mynahs and peacocks, and animals like deer and porcupines laze around. I sit on a marble bench under a banyan tree and watch children bathing under a Venetian maiden. While discovering a slice of the Bengal Renaissance, I could find eccentricities that pervade the city and its builders.