Garden regime

Lead review

Colonialism in India was not limited to administrative control alone, but seeped into the Indian soil in the form of gardens too. As a mark of a former colony, the country still has some of the most beautiful gardens, writes M K Chandra Bose.

 The legacy of gardens that the British left behind is next only to English language in its sweep and influence. The stamp is unmistakable in Indian historical monuments, government institutions, parks, traffic roundabouts and even IT campuses. The planting of gardens by the British in India reflected expatriates’ yearning to recreate life at home as much as possible in an unfamiliar environment. So much a part of British identity, gardens symbolised a little corner of England.

The Raj women played a pre-eminent role in promoting this cultural imperialism, the ‘soft face’ of imperialism. Gardening offered solace from prolonged absence from home. There were also viceroys, their wives, senior officials and botanists, who were passionate about creating British gardens.

Flora’s Empire: British Gardens in India by Eugenia W Herbert is a fascinating history of gardens in India. A flowery history setting the historical and social contexts, the book traces the significance of gardens in the complex history of British relations with India. Gardens offered insights into many facets of the colonial experience. It is an aspect of imperialism that historians have traditionally ignored.

Ferreting out rare personal accounts from a wealth of archives along with splendid illustrations, historian Herbert creates an engrossing tale vivid with vignettes of social life. The cheap labour of Indian malis (gardeners) contributed immensely to the upkeep of colonial gardens. Often, prisoners in chains were employed in erecting gardens.

Empire builders patronised hill stations like Shimla, Dehra Dun, Darjeeling and Ooty to create ‘little islands of Englishness’, and could look forward to something akin to comforts of home. These “quintessential outposts of Englishness” were no different as far as social segregation was concerned. In the British summer capital Shimla, altitude determined the social status with the Viceroy occupying the tallest spot. In Ooty, the British were able to “complete the curious illusion of England in India”. English vegetables and flowers flourished in the Nilgiris.

The book gives due credit to Bangalore for its love of gardens and becoming a pensioners’ paradise. For the colonialists, Bangalore was an alternative to plains in winter and hills in summer. Salubrious climate enticed many a British, who could indulge in their passion for gardens with ease.

An added attraction was that English flowers and vegetables thrived in the city. Herbert is charmed by Cubbon Park with its English stamp, and Lal Bagh, created by Hyder Ali, and nurtured by Tipu Sultan. She conjures up the image of Hyder Ali taking a stroll in Lal Bagh flanked by a bevy of concubines. She characterises Brindavan as the most spectacular of public gardens.

Herbert argues that the British created gardens in India not just out of homesickness, but also as a mark of civilising an alien, inhospitable, untamed land. They wanted to set an example of civilised life for their Indian subjects. The book traces the evolution of gardens from the garden houses of 18th century Calcutta to 19th and 20th centuries when gardens reflected the more bourgeois values of the Victorian era. She finds a parallel between the British passion for laying out gardens and landscaping and the Mughals’ love for gardens.

The oppressive heat of the plains came in the way of their efforts to plant English flowers. The civilising mission sometimes had created unwanted results, as when Lord Curzon tried to restore the Mughal garden around the Taj. From drawings and images, Herbert cites flaws in the restoration work and states that Curzon lost the original conception of the setting.

Taj gardens were not always geometric rows and squares of controlled growth. As Curzon considered it overgrown and thought it obscured the building, he ordered it to be removed. All the fragrance of flowers and plants along with fruit trees vanished.
Luxuriance of Indian nature fascinated many, who combined English design with indigenous plants producing hybrid gardens.

There were botanists and naturalists who devoted their lives in pursuit of knowledge. The government encouraged botanical research in a big way after finding the Himalayas as a treasure trove of plants.

The author does not lose sight of India’s long tradition of having gardens, and the association of flowers with Hindu religious rituals and ceremonies. However, there is very little on record about the pre-Mughal gardens. She says Mughal gardens appealed to all senses, while English gardens concentrated on sight.

The imperial impulse to build monumental capital finds its full expression in Lutyens’ Delhi with an architectural synthesis of the east and the west, the Mughal garden being the finest example. With his roots in western classical tradition, Lutyens was convinced that India had “no real architecture and nothing is built to last”. Herbert finds the creation of New Delhi “a staggering demonstration of cultural hubris in imposing the alien aesthetics of English garden city on India”. On the whole, Flora’s Empire is an absorbing tale narrated in flawless prose.

Flora’s Empire, Eugenia W Herbert, Penguin/Allen Lane 2012, pp 382, Rs 799