At Delhi’s Purana Qila, the dimly-lit Archaeological Museum has a swanky new companion – the Gallery for Confiscated and Retrieved Antiquities, which opened on August 31. An automated, sliding-glass door leads to the gallery that celebrates the homecoming of artefacts stolen and smuggled out of the country.
A board at the entrance displays the gallery’s mandate: “The return of these historical artefacts is part of the restoration of India’s pride and an acknowledgement of history as well as a projection of India's cultural consciousness.” Another board details the meaning of such a theft and how museums, unprotected ruins and monuments are the usual targets.
Laws dealing with the preservation of artifacts fall under the Antiquities and Art Treasures Act, 1972. Under the Act, every object older than 100 years has to be registered with the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), along with its photograph. The object is validated by the authorities in person. It is only after an object is registered as an antiquity that the object can be bought or sold, according to the 1970 UNESCO Convention, to which India is a signatory. This provision prohibits the export and import of illegally-acquired antiques.
Recently recovered statues from a buried hoard in the interiors of Tamil Nadu
But a new draft bill, a copy of which is with Business Standard, encourages a system where India’s antiquities can be freely traded without any such regulation. The draft talks about setting up a domestic trade network that can presumably trade in antiquities online. It also aims to do away with the licences that are currently required for the trade. One of the biggest problems in getting back artefacts that have been stolen is establishing ownership of the artefact, a strong trail that confirms its provenance. The draft ignores this completely. Considering that India has a history of idols being smuggled out of the country on a large scale, this free-for-all market is worrisome.
S Vijay Kumar, Co-Founder, India Pride Project
On the face of it, the Antiquities and Art Treasures Regulation, Export and Import Control Bill, 2018 grants relief to artefact dealers by stating that they would no longer need a licence to trade. This reduces the state’s regulation in the antiquities market. “One end of the market will see this as a good thing because the Bill would do away with bureaucratic hurdles and bring in much needed efficiency,” says Bengaluru-based advocate Rohan Kothari, an expert in laws dealing with art and antiquities as well as criminal law. “But at the same time, it doesn’t put enough emphasis on raising the level of public consciousness towards the virtues of preserving our heritage.”
If a state-controlled body makes sure that the antiquity trade is regulated, then there would be some accountability from private players, says Kothari.
In spite of the 1972 Act, India has no record of how many artefacts have been stolen from temples and archaeologically-significant sites. The retrieved pieces at Purana Qila are only a drop in the ocean.
Back at the new gallery, mint-coloured arches and red panels divide the space, and placards in Hindi and English describe the artefacts, some of which date back to the Harappan civilisation. There are stone sculptures, copper coins, ivory paintings, spears, dagger…
The gallery at Purana Qila houses confiscated and recovered artefacts
Some placards detail the story of the artefact’s theft and subsequent recovery. The 12th century Brahma-Brahmani marble idol, for instance, has its history pegged on the wall. Stolen in 2001 from Patan, Gujarat, it was recovered from UK 15 years after it went missing.
What the board leaves out is the role of private individuals such as Kirit L Mankodi, a Mumbai-based retired professor of archaeology, and S Vijay Kumar, author of The Idol Thief: The True Story of the Looting of India's Temples. It was Mankodi who noticed an advertisement put out by London-based antique dealer Jeremy Knowles. The artefact on sale was remarkably similar to the one stolen from India.
This 12th century Brahma-Brahmani idol, which is on display at the Purana Qila gallery, was stolen in 2001 from Patan in Gujarat
Following this alert, the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) made a trip to London and came back saying it wasn’t the same piece. After Mankodi and Kumar provided detailed and multiple match points on photographic evidence, the ASI agreed to form another committee and pursue the matter. The result of the search is now on display at Purana Qila.
“A handful of objects coming back to India is no great victory. One has to fully investigate the chain of theft to dismantle the network of smugglers,” says Kumar.
Based out of Singapore, Kumar has his roots in Chennai. He is also the co-founder of India Pride Project, a network of volunteers working across the globe to bring back smuggled artifacts. Tamil Nadu is the only Indian state with a dedicated team of private individuals, the Idol Wing, that spends its (limited) resources in tracking down idol thieves.
The project started a little over four years ago, though Kumar has been involved in the tracking and retrieving of artifacts since 2007. The work involves endlessly peering over photographic records and auction lots, besides working with volunteers as well as international agencies such as the US Department of Homeland Security.
Besides doing away with state-monitored licences for dealing in antiquities, another provision in the draft Bill states that the director general of ASI can de-register an object and deny it its antique value if there’s wear and tear.
“Most antiquities, because of age, mishandling, weather conditions and poor storage are likely to have suffered some damage or the other,” says Bengaluru-based Abhishek Poddar, a prominent art collector. “It doesn’t warrant them being written off as antiquities.”
As a trustee of the Museum of Art & Photography, a massive project undertaken to preserve a growing collection of artefacts in Bengaluru, Poddar believes the objective should be to exhibit and interpret these since studying them will enrich our knowledge of our past and of our lives.
India’s story is one of many invasions. In the face of a hostile enemy, it was common practice for temple custodians to bury their gods in a shallow hole or throw them into the village pond to be retrieved later. Some of these have remained underground and have come to be known as “buried hordes”.
When artifacts are suspected to be part of a buried horde, like a statue of Parvati on display at Purana Qila, Kumar believes they shouldn’t be treated as mere showpieces. “These aren’t trophies to be displayed, but evidence in ongoing cases. If they are displayed, let them be displayed with details. That way there will be a deterrent and it’ll be made clear that India is no longer going to sit by quietly.”
The Sripuranthan Nataraja idol was brought back from Australia in 2014 and was welcomed with great fervour in its hometown in Tamil Nadu
Just earlier this week, four idols were dug up in Tamil Nadu. In accordance with the draft Bill, photographs of these should be uploaded on to a database (a website, one presumes, since the draft is not clear on this). From whatever is posted on this online database, one could freely engage in trade of antiquities. The same can be done with stone inscriptions, which provide a timeframe for the region and help one understand the lives lived in that period.
“There’s going to be a run for our antiquities if there’s open trade. Anyone with a metal detector can go into ruins in search of artifacts,” says Kumar. According to Mankodi, smugglers use all sorts of stories to keep people away from certain sites. While tales of “haunted” sites are in abundance in Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh, in Tamil Nadu, the story of “killer bees” keep many away from sites where antiquities can be found.
Kumar fears that the draft Bill, if passed, “will let loose treasure hunters who are going to profit from selling India’s wealth in the absence of a gatekeeper”.
The draft Bill also opens up the question as to who will validate details uploaded on the website and if there’s any penalty for posting misleading information. If someone has an artefact that has been handed down to them through generations and they upload the details as they know it, including family lore or legend, inaccuracies could creep in, says Poddar. “We have no idea how these artefacts will be validated or if there will be a physical inspection by an expert.” All this needs to be clarified.
The draft Bill, says Kothari, must also carry comments from all stakeholders, including collectors, government officials and heritage activists before it is presented in Parliament.
The theft of antiquities isn’t limited to a handful of states. Besides Hindu deities from Tamil Nadu and Buddhist sculptures from Madhya Pradesh, statues of Mary, mother of Jesus, have disappeared from Goa as well. “Sacred art is part of a living culture, part of how people interact with their world and the divine,” says Glasgow-based antiquities expert Donna Yates. “In a foreign art museum, the god is no longer able to perform its function to the community and the community is no longer able to interact with the god.”
Following a court order last December, a 1,000-year-old Panchaloha (five metals) idol of Nataraja, which was stolen from the village of Sripuranthan in Tamil Nadu, was given a grand welcome home with people playing drums and the Nadhaswaram (a wind instrument). This Dancing Shiva idol was stolen over a decade ago and smuggled to New York before it found its way to the National Gallery of Australia, Canberra. Australia had procured the piece from the now-jailed Indian antiquities smuggler Subhash Kapoor for $5.1 million. It was brought back to India in 2014.
A few years ago, Brent Easter, a federal agent for the US Department of Homeland Security who investigates stolen antiquities, received a letter from a villager in Tamil Nadu. Written in Tamil, it read: “Thieves have stolen our gods, made and given to us by our great, great grandfathers, and sold them abroad. Elders say if someone steals the property of Shiva, his entire clan is cursed, but the thieves don’t seem to care. Due to the wrath of the gods, the rains are not coming on time, and the land has turned barren. From the time they went missing, there are no festivals, no rituals in our village… We want to show them to our children and grandchildren. We prostrate in front of all people and governments of any country which have our gods, please return them.”
That’s the sentiment many of these antiquities command. And that’s the sentiment any law framed to protect them needs to keep in mind.