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Camouflaged in one of the crowded bylanes of North Kolkata is the panoramic view of a ruined palace, held together by ageing bricks. The decaying Doric columns layered with thick coats of moss lead to crumbling doorways, a dark and precarious stairway, several empty rooms, and many stained-glass windows that recall a once-upon-a-time grandeur.
The decrepit building in Bagbazar, known as Basubati, may enthrall makers of horror films. But the heritage building constructed by Nandalal Basu about 150 years ago wallows in indignity. Its courtyard flaunts a mix of Indian and Gothic architecture. The doorways were once emblazoned with scroll paintings, depicting scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata. Barely one foot of paintings is now extant. When realtor Harshavardhan Neotia bought a portion of the property from the present generation of the Basus, he hoped to breathe new life into the structure and convert it into a heritage hotel. However, with a major part of the house occupied by a library, the restoration work is still incomplete five years after the acquisition. The library is administered by the West Bengal Education Department and the developers need to obtain a no-objection certificate from the society that runs the library. "The entire process is quite long, and we are waiting for necessary approvals," says Neotia.
In the meantime, time erodes the historic relics of Basubati. A few days ago, a large chunk of the cornice in the courtyard collapsed. "The property is in bad shape. We did a survey to assess the strength of the house. It can be made strong and stable. We are awaiting clearances from Kolkata Municipal Corporation (KMC). We carried out only half of the survey, as the library has to be relocated," says Neotia.
Basubati reflects only one example of the impediments in conserving these heritage residences - or rajbaris - through the commercially viable option adopted to restore hundreds of ancient havelis and palaces in Rajasthan. The rajbaris are the grand residences of zamindars, the hereditary tax collectors in the pre-colonial era in Bengal.
A few rajbaris have managed to resurrect themselves. About 30 km from Kolkata in Budge Budge subdivision's Bawali village is the grand Bawali rajbari. A generous gift from a Mughal emperor to one of his loyal courtiers, Basudeb Ram, the rajbari sprawls across three acres. In 2009, jute mill owner Ajay Rawla succeeded in bringing the five quarrelling brothers from the Ram family to the negotiating table and bought the house. Outside Kolkata, it was easier to manage the legal implications of the purchase. "We were operating in the village area, and the panchayat was very helpful. We faced some trouble from some locals, as they were apprehensive about change, but issues were resolved," says Sanjeev Khanna, consultant, Bawli Estate Private Limited.
The Itachuna rajbari in Panduah town of Hooghly is another success story. The rajbari was constructed in 1766. Dhruba Kundu, one of the present owners of the Itchuna rajbari, came home after spending much of his life in the US to renovate the building. The renovation work has been going on since 2000, and the revenue generated is only enough to meet the cost of the project, says Kundu.
Itachuna is one of the rare examples of the owners themselves deciding to renovate and conserve their inheritance. It isn't easy though because restoring these historic buildings can be daunting. At Bawali, the developers have spent about Rs 3 crore, which is more than the cost of the property itself. At Itchuna, some of the rare paintings, worth as much as Rs 20 lakh, could not be restored due to paucity of funds or were stolen. "We spent Rs 65 lakh simply on basic repair work," says Kundu.
Skilled labourers trained to work on intricate designs and use of traditional material like limestone are rare. Not only does the paucity of such workers increase the execution time, but sending them for specialised training also adds to the cost, says Neotia who had earlier restored the Town Hall, a Roman-Doric style building of the British era.
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These decaying Kolkata edifices could regain their glory with a rebirth as commercial spaces, but old tenancy, litigations, family dispute, lack of clear laws and administrative issues are hampering efforts. Take the 180-year-old Silver Mint House in Posta Bazar. Designed as a replica of the Temple of Minerva in Athens, it was expected to be restored as a tourist destination, with a convention centre, archival services, open air theatre, food court and a heritage hotel. But a dispute between the Security Printing and Minting Corporation of India Limited, the Central body which owns the mint, and the Kolkata Metropolitan Development Authority over a flyover encroaching on the property has stalled the restoration.
"Most of the heritage projects are stuck in administrative and infrastructure-related issues," says G M Kapoor, convener of Intach, Kolkata and West Bengal. Developers see a lack of incentives as a major hurdle. They have been proposing that the municipal corporations entitle heritage property owners to Transferable Development Rights. These rights would give landowners financial or other incentives, like additional built up area in lieu of the portions relinquished or surrendered to the corporations as heritage property. "At present, owners of old houses do not want their holdings to be tagged as heritage property because it would deprive them of their rights to develop their own property," says Kolkata-based developer Pradip Chopra.
The solutions could take time coming. "The legal ambit of heritage restoration is still evolving," points out Ashish Acharjee, an architect who is also an heritage conservation consultant with the KMC and West Bengal Heritage Commission. "Change of use of any structure throws open several legal and operational issues."
In addition, sometimes the realtors themselves tend to undermine the restoration process in their zeal to push a business plan through, which often sets up long-drawn conflicts with the authorities, adds Acharjee.
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Octogenarian Alok Krishna Deb sits in a small room in one of the houses of Sovabazar and sifts through a set of finely preserved, but brittle sheets of paper. One such paper is an invitation card to a 'nautch', or a dance, as the British called it. Deb remembers the days when the courtyard of the Sovabazar rajbari was frequented by governor generals and viceroys of British India for cultural programmes. In a well-maintained house, where Durga Puja sees the reunion of more than 200 family members, looking glasses of the 19th century and chandeliers of the 18th century are still in good shape. Deb is sternly against the conversion of the rajbari into a hotel, and family members prefer to pitch in to ensure proper maintenance. "Our small contributions are enough to continue our tradition,' says a nostalgic Deb. Possibly, it is because of people like Deb, the rajbaris of Kolkata will continue to exist amidst newer glass and cement concrete structures.
