Ee sala Cubbon namde

Last weekend, the state Horticulture Department prevented a Secret Santa book exchange hosted at Cubbon Park, because the organisers of the event – Cubbon Reads – had not sought permission for a gathering of that size. Apart from prohibiting the event, the authorities confiscated several books, and reportedly slapped a fine of Rs 35,000 on the members, and threatened them with an FIR. Is this disruption new in the history of Cubbon Park? What is it about the nature of Cubbon Park that made the authorities so angsty about a book exchange?

The peculiar history of Cubbon Park shows that its symbolism and significance in Bengaluru are rooted in control. A look at this, in turn, reveals how Bengalureans should react to the shutting down of the reading event, which might otherwise seem like an insignificant or trivial instance in the politics of the city.

The police files in the Karnataka State Archives tell a story of how miscreants defaced the statue of the Queen in Cubbon Park in early 1918. Internal correspondence reveals that the establishment was eager to erect a guard room to protect the statue from defacement, spending a sum of Rs 2,303 for its construction. There is an inherent tension that characterises the Park. While it was meant for leisure and enjoyment, the space was also highly patrolled.

More importantly, as any old Bengalurean would know, Cubbon Park split the Cantonment and the city, and therefore, separated different classes and groups of people. When the Cantonment was built, labourers from erstwhile Madras migrated to undertake the enormous work and upkeep of the space. The location of Cubbon Park – sandwiched between
the city and the Cantonment, beside Vidhana Soudha, and other structures of political significance – throws light on its importance, and explains the consequent repression we are witnessing in the current moment.

In the city’s history, Cubbon Park has emerged as a centre for maintaining a public sphere of middle-class sensibilities. Janaki Nair notes that in 1977, when the Karnataka government announced that it would shift the statues of Victoria, Edward VII, and Mark Cubbon out of the park, much of the English-speaking middle class opposed it on the ground that it would tarnish the beauty of the park.

In 1983, when the government decided to denotify portions of land from the park, the very same public protested as part of the ‘Save Cubbon Park’ campaign. In a protest that lasted six weeks in 1998, large sections of the middle class rallied at the Victoria statue against the decision. The aesthetic quality of Cubbon Park, therefore, has remained central to the elite imagination of the city. Any disruptions to this picturisation have received stark pushback.

Whose park is it?

Cubbon Park served as an important site for the anti-colonial independence movement. Nair also recounts that the location of the Park enabled political mobilisations including those like the historic farmers’ jatha as part of the Nargund-Navalgund struggle, rallies by the Dalita Sangarsha Samiti, and huge May Day rallies, to name a few.

However, through the process of liberalisation, the cityscape continued to be privatised, meant only for a minuscule few. In 1995, a petition to the Karnataka High Court demanded an end to protests and rallies in Cubbon Park, and in 1997, rallies in the Park were banned by the government. Later, in 2009, the government even considered implementing a policy that necessitated the display of ID cards to enter the Park. This decision was heavily protested by forums including the Environment Support Group; they agitated to ensure that the Park was open for all.

The locking of gates, surveillance, moral policing of youth, patrolling, and reduction in entry-exit points to the Park are all part of a range of policies to prevent all people from accessing a city’s commons. The history of Cubbon Park shows how certain groups leverage certain claims to ensure that clean air, greenery, and public spaces cannot be accessed by marginalised sections of the city’s populace.

It is up to us, Bengalureans, to decide whether we want the Park as a purely individualised space meant for joggers, walkers, and the like or, if we want it to be a vibrant space, full of community. Taking a step ahead would mean transcending silos – including spaces like Cubbon Reads – which might be accessed by only a few. We must instead, make way for fraternity in our public spaces, which is how we might truly ‘save Cubbon Park’.

(The writer is a law graduate interested in local histories and people’s
movements)