Why Didn't the British Allow St Stephen's College to Be a Part of Lutyens' Delhi?

The meticulously planned avenues and monumental buildings of Lutyens’ Delhi, with their sweeping vistas and regal symmetry, stand as a powerful testament to imperial ambition. Yet, beneath this seemingly unblemished facade lies a story of political calculation and a forgotten blueprint. A recent exhibition in the National Capital, 'Saire-E-Dilli' organised by the DAG, has brought to light a little-known, yet fascinating, detail of the original plan for New Delhi – the British administration's intention to create a dedicated college zone at the very heart of the new capital, and the dramatic reason they abandoned the idea was nothing but the fear of a student rebellion. 

Historian and author Swapna Liddle, while briefing visitors at the exhibition, decoded the original British plans laid out in maps for the construction of New Delhi and revealed that what we now know as Kasturba Gandhi Marg was originally conceived of as the 'Great College Street'. This grand boulevard, running straight from Connaught Place towards the Feroz Shah Road intersection, was meticulously planned with vast plots on either side, each earmarked for a different college. Perhaps most surprisingly, while there are mentions of generic plots for colleges in the map revealed in the recent exhibition, one specific spot, directly opposite the historic Ugrasen ki Baoli, was specifically designated for the St. Stephen's College, whose legacy is deeply intertwined with the freedom struggle. 

The chilling reason for this abandoned vision, according to Liddle, was the British Raj's fear of having a hotbed of political dissent and intellectual rebellion so close to the seat of their power on Raisina Hill. The students of St. Stephen's, it was well known, were actively involved in agitations and movements led by Mahatma Gandhi, and the British apparently feared the potent mix of academic ferment and revolutionary fervour in the heart of their new capital.

The Delhi Plan of the British on display. Photo: From the DAG exhibition Sair-e-Dilli.

This tantalising revelation adds a new layer to the already rich history of New Delhi's creation, a process that began with a decision of immense political and strategic consequence. On December 12, 1911, at the Delhi Durbar, King George V and Queen Mary made the momentous announcement to shift the capital of British India from Calcutta to Delhi. The move was not merely a change of address, it was a deliberate act to quell the rising nationalist sentiment in Bengal and to symbolically re-establish British authority in a city with a deep imperial past. The British sought to present themselves as the legitimate successors to the Mughals and other great Indian empires, and what better way to do so than to build a modern capital city on the very grounds where generations of emperors had ruled.

The task of creating this new capital was entrusted to the visionary British architect Edwin Lutyens and his associate, Herbert Baker. Lutyens, in particular, was given the monumental responsibility of designing not just a few buildings, but an entire imperial enclave, from the Viceroy's House, now Rashtrapati Bhavan, to the city's overall plan. His vision was a "garden city," built on a palatial scale – a place where European architectural grandeur would meet Indian motifs. Unlike previous urban plans, Lutyens' design was not merely a collection of buildings but a meticulously choreographed cityscape with a clear sense of geometric symmetry and purpose.

The plan was a marvel of both engineering and aesthetics. Lutyens' penchant for grand axial lines and sweeping vistas is evident in the iconic Kingsway (Rajpath), now called the Kartavya Path, a broad central avenue that connects India Gate to the Raisina Hill complex. He also introduced a unique feature to the city's layout, the signature "gol-chakkars" or roundabouts, which served to break the force of the frequent dust storms and created a more organic flow of traffic. Lutyens worked with horticulturists to select the perfect trees for each avenue, ensuring the right kind of shade and visual appeal. He drew inspiration from Mughal water gardens, and the channels of Kingsway were designed to mimic those of the Red Fort. The new city was planned to be a stark contrast to the "chaos" of Old Delhi or Shahjahanabad, representing a British ideal of order and control.

The decision to shift the capital from Calcutta to Delhi, announced by King George V in 1911, was not made on a whim. While the British initially set up a temporary capital in the Civil Lines area, they soon recognised the need for a new, purpose-built city. This led to a search for the perfect site, a process that involved rejecting several other locations for well-considered reasons.

One of the first alternative sites considered was the Shahdara area, located across the river Yamuna in northeast Delhi. This option was eventually abandoned because British town planners correctly foresaw that developing the new capital there would require the construction of multiple bridges across the Yamuna to connect it seamlessly with Old Delhi. Such a plan was deemed too complex and costly.

Another location that was under serious consideration was the Narayana area in West Delhi. This spot was also rejected, maybe it did not meet a key criterion of the planners, the new city needed to be situated between the river and the ridge. This geographical preference was not merely aesthetic, it was part of a larger, more symbolic vision. The British planners wanted New Delhi to be more than just a modern capital. They envisioned it as the fulcrum of the past and present, deliberately linking all the historic cities of Delhi. 

An introductory note from Swapna Liddle at the exhibition. Photo: From the DAG exhibition Sair-e-Dilli.

The story of these abandoned plans and detailed urban designs was discussed in the exhibition mentioned above, 'Sair-E-Dilli,' which provided documentary proofs of the original town plans. The exhibition was an eye-opener, showcasing the meticulous design process that shaped the capital. For example, it revealed that the intersection of what is now known as Kasturba Gandhi Marg (formerly Great College Street) and Feroze Shah Road was originally intended to be called University Square.

The exhibition also highlighted key design parallels that linked New Delhi to Old Delhi. A striking revelation was that Kingsway is designed to be exactly parallel to the bustling Chandni Chowk street in front of the Red Fort. Furthermore, the plan ensured that Vijay Chowk had a direct line of sight to Chandni Chowk itself, creating a visual and symbolic connection between the old Mughal capital and the new British one.

The avenues also had different names. Today's Janpath, a major north-south artery, was originally called Queen's Way, and it intersected Kingsway at the grand Central Vista, a meeting point that served as a central organising element of Lutyens' design.

These details, as shared by Liddle, paint a more complete picture of the grand vision behind the creation of New Delhi, moving beyond the well-known facts to reveal the intricate thought and planning that went into every aspect of its design.

While the British were keen on a capital that projected imperial power, they were acutely aware of the forces that could challenge it. The shelved plan for 'Great College Street' shows British feared students and the academia and their growing influence in the national movement. The Indian freedom movement was gaining momentum, and colleges – with their vibrant intellectual life and youthful energy – were often at the forefront of nationalist activities. St. Stephen's College, founded in 1881, was a particularly significant institution in that regard. It had a long history of fostering a culture of debate and was home to prominent figures who would go on to play pivotal roles in the freedom struggle. Its principal, Sushil Kumar Rudra, was a close friend of Rabindranath Tagore and Mahatma Gandhi. The college was a meeting point for leaders with teachers like C.F. Andrews and students like Asaf Ali. To place such an institution adjacent to the Viceroy's House and the new government buildings would have been a high-stakes gamble. The British, it seems, were not willing to take that risk.

The plan was quietly shelved. Instead of a 'Great College Street' at the core of the city, St. Stephen's College and other institutions were eventually moved to the University Enclave in North Delhi, a much safer distance from the imperial hub. It was a clear political decision, a symbolic act of quarantining the spirit of dissent from the seat of power. The college, however, continued to produce generations of leaders, thinkers, and revolutionaries who would ultimately bring down the very empire that had sought to keep them at bay.

The story of the lost college street of New Delhi is more than just a footnote in history. It is a testament to the fact that even the most meticulously planned empires can be undone not by brute force, but by the power of ideas nurtured through education.

Santosh Koshy Joy is a doctoral scholar with the Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Delhi.

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