Contrary to what the title above might have led you to think, this is not an exposition about Narendra Modi’s proposed new residence as per some reports (one can rest assured that India’s mainstream darbari media will spend copious amounts of time describing its glories if it is inaugurated). This is a meditation about the house that Lal Bahadur Shastri lived in for 14 years. It has now been turned into a memorial.
The Lal Bahadur Shastri Memorial, located in the heart of New Delhi, is a calming place to visit in these days of vulgarity, violence, hubris and hate. The erstwhile residence of the second prime minister of India is in many ways emblematic of the man himself – unassuming, quiet, humble and understated.
As a long-time resident of Delhi, I have crossed this memorial a thousand times, but never once thought to go inside, possibly because it is so nondescript (and also probably because it is somewhat overshadowed by its neighbour, 10 Janpath, the residence of Congress leader Sonia Gandhi).
A description by the Lal Bahadur Shastri Memorial Authority perhaps says it best:
“This typical [Lutyens’] bungalow at 1, Motilal Nehru Palace was the home of Lal Bahadur Shastri since 1952 until he passed away in Tashkent on 11th January, 1966. He lived here as a minister in the Government of India holding important portfolios like Railways, Communication, Commerce and Industry, and Home.
In 1964 on assuming charge as India’s second Prime Minister he decided to live in this bungalow instead of shifting to a bigger house. The personality of Lal Bahadur Shastri is intimately connected with the memorial dedicated to him.”
One of the first things I notice is the simplicity of the people who have come to visit the memorial, people from humble backgrounds, some even barefoot. An electric BMW SUV parked on the premises looks hopelessly out of place here!
The living room inside the bungalow is beautiful in its plainness. Sofas and a divan covered in light, cream-coloured upholstery are arranged around simple, low wooden tables. In the corner of the room is a dancing Natraj figurine. Light brown curtains hang over the windows, and a red, embroidered carpet covers the floor. There is something so peaceful about this room that I stand and gaze.
The living room at Shastri’s residence. Photo: Rohit Kumar.
One of the staff, a genial elderly man, perhaps noticing this, offers to give me and a friend I am with, a tour of sorts (this friend, incidentally, has a well-earned reputation of being a museophile, or a lover of museums, but even she has not seen the inside of this memorial before).
Our informal guide proceeds to show us a few of the gifts Shastri received as prime minister, including a model replica of the gate of Nepal’s famous Pashupatinath temple. He also shows us the actual trowels that Shastri used to lay foundation stones for buildings and bridges with.
He then shows us a black overcoat that Jawaharlal Nehru gave to Shastri for a visit to Kashmir, knowing that Shastri had no overcoat of his own (one of the buttons on the overcoat had later come off. Shastri, profoundly unconcerned with sartorial matters, did not bother to get it fixed.)
It would be accurate to say that Shastri laid the foundations of India’s defence modernisation and agricultural self-sufficiency. Unlike the present incumbent’s slogans that sound more like cruel jokes than anything else (‘Beti Bachaao, Beti Padhaao’, ‘Make in India’, etc), ‘Jai Jawan, Jai Kisan’ was not just a slogan for Shastri but his very raison d’être and the cornerstone of his premiership.
The bottlebrush tree that Shastri planted outside his home. Photo: Rohit Kumar.
Our guide tells us that as railway minister Shastri resigned after a train accident – so personally accountable did he feel for the mishap. And though he was later re-inducted into the cabinet by Nehru, it is difficult to imagine the current railway minister or anyone else in the present prime minister’s cabinet doing anything even remotely similar.
The wall clock in Shastri’s dining room shows the time as 8:45, the time he had his last dinner with his family before leaving for Tashkent. His bedroom and office are studies in simplicity too. In fact, Shastri’s office chair sits lower than the visitor chairs in front of it. We are also shown Shastri’s black and white television, radio and refrigerator – all of which apparently still work!
Our guide opens the door to a balcony with unadorned cane furniture. This space had become Shastri’s de facto office where he worked late into the night. A young father who has brought his son along to visit the memorial touches one of the cane chairs and kneels reverently. He then gets up, stands with closed eyes, bowed head and folded hands for a long moment, and then walks away.
One of the loveliest things on display is Shastri’s Fiat 1100 car (registration number DLE 6) which he bought against a loan from the State Bank of India. Try as hard as one might, one cannot but contrast it to the flotilla of Mercedes Maybachs that Modi travels around in.
Shastri’s Fiat 1100. Photo: Rohit Kumar.
In front of the bungalow is a beautiful bottlebrush tree planted by Shastri himself. Under its shade sit visitors from south India who have just finished a tour of the memorial.
In a city that seems to be doing its best to invisibilise its poor, it is heartening to see people of modest and humble backgrounds sitting under a tree and not being asked to move along by the security guards present.
We come away from the memorial refreshed and uplifted. My heart feels strangely hopeful. Shastri’s final home is a powerful reminder that people of humility, integrity and decency have ascended the highest posts in the land in the past.
They still might, in the future.
Rohit Kumar is an educator, author and independent journalist and can be reached at letsempathize@gmail.com.
