Simla
Raaja Bhasin
Rupa & Co.
Rs 395, pp 488

In recreating colonial legacies one often faces a moral dilemma. What viewpoint should a modern Indian historian have of an empire that heaped the worst atrocities on our forefathers; yet give credit where it is due. Simla: The Summer Capital of British India by Raaja Bhasin clearly steers the middle path with aplomb. Without resorting to the usual nostalgia about an era gone by that one can expect from such a work, Bhasin’s prose is charming, impartial and insightful. In this exhaustively researched book, Bhasin narrates the story of this little and unknown village that went on to become the veritable seat of power of British rule in India.

Divided into 12 chapters, the book takes the readers through the highs and lows of this fascinating town where the British spent almost eight months of the year to escape the heat and grime of Calcutta and Delhi. Opening with the geopolitics of the 18th century, the defeat of the Gurkha army and the entry of the British, the narrative of close to 200 years of the Raj culminates in the Independence of India.

In the process, the personal lives and quirks of several loved and hated viceroys of India and their wives and associates come to light. It was not without reason that Simla was known as ‘the workshop of the Empire’ because it was a product of the Raj that was eager to carve out this little home away from home where all the idiosyncrasies of British aristocracy could be recreated. Simla thus became the personification of the disconnect that the Raj had with the masses. The lavish parties, the expenditures and the snobbery were symptomatic of this fixture.

Bhasin brings all these aspects to light with a characteristic flair for tongue-in-cheek. He gleans his story of Simla through anecdotes and a narrative made of several layers. The subaltern voice as well as the colonial writings are captured in the process, where the Englishness of Simla and comparisons to England recur frequently.

The book is rich in anecdotal history — be it the “flowery and nonsensical” language of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, Rudyard Kipling’s visit to Simla, the occult tricks of Alexander Malcolm Jacob, the contributions of men like John Lawrence and Samuel Stokes to the political and economic development of the place, the arrival of steam engines and railway lines to India or giving us the human side of the much-hated viceroy Lord Curzon.

However, this advantage also becomes one of the main failings of the book. It would have read a lot better with some ruthless editing. Reams and reams of quotations from colonial literature, in English that is reminiscent of the Raj, certainly adds a flavour, but also leads to reader ennui. The long litany of names that appear in every page of the book necessitates one to almost keep a pencil and paper in hand to keep a track! With a prose as delightful as his, Bhasin really does not need to fall back on a quotation for every point he makes. These irritants apart, this is a must read for all historians as well as enthusiasts who wish to be told the other side of the story of the Raj.

Vikram Sampath is the author of My Name is Gauhar Jaan