Ravi in Bangalore — Part Two

In “Ravi in Bangalore — Part One” here I drew a picture of Bangalore’s founding and the early history that shaped its essential character. Next, below, is my perception of Bangalore’s complex second phase. In Part Three I will describe the Bangalore where Ravi lived as a child in the 1930s and ’40s and had his roots. The city is much beloved by many people, and for good reason. I began writing at some length about the architecture I found so attractive in the 1960s through the ’80s — the bungalows, the handsome public buildings, the extraordinary gardens, but decided to curb this indulgence in my own particular interest. All the same, although Ravi and his family were not tuned into thinking about architecture and he never spoke to me about Bangalore’s architecture, it was there in his environment and surely affected him.

I have already noted another aspect of Bangalore that attracted me: I sensed that the city had a functioning local government, something unusual for India in those years, and it had begun in the previous century. Two municipal governments had been established in 1862, one for Bangalore City Municipality and another for the Bangalore Civil and Military Station (cantonment) Municipality, made possible by a national law and by an initiative from citizens of the city rather than by the cantonment British. I found a picture of a 19th century Municipal Office but have not as yet discovered where the building was located. (See comment below by Jerome Marcel.) Ravi, a professor of Political Science, showed little interest in local government; he focused on national political institutions and international law. I worked in Public Health and was continually aware of how local government, or its absence, affected the quality of people’s lives.

I return to the 1924 map, as social geography, to help me think about the Bangalore Ravi would have known in the 1930s and ’40s.

Bangalore 1924

He would have seen and experienced two cities. One city was Indian, that of Ravi’s mother’s family, and the other British. The family, speaking Kannada among themselves, used English in the home and occasionally Bengali, the grandmother’s language. When we went to Baba Rao’s tailor shop to have sari blouses and petticoats and camise-silvar made, Ravi’s aunt spoke Maharati and English with him. Ravi spoke English and Hindi. His English would have oriented him toward the other city, the cantonment, where the British and their language dominated. However, a majority of the people in the cantonment were Indian, most speaking Tamil and creating neighborhoods more like Tamil Nadu than Mysore State. Others in the cantonment were from Kerala speaking Telagu or from Maharastra (north of Karnataka) speaking Mararati. As far as I know, the only English, maybe Irish, person with whom Ravi had contact was a teacher in the school he attended for a year.

South India

British individuals may not have been part of the personal lives of many Indians outside the cantonment but the British presence and their cantonment contributed to the growth of a modern middle-class in Bangalore City. Because of the British, opportunities for business and the professions opened. After Tippu Sultan’s defeat, Bangalore was made capital of the Mysore Kingdom, then of the Princely State, and the British-built infrastructure continued to grow, especially after the railway arrived. The Indians in Bangalore had before them, to observe at close range, a British community benefiting from the advances in technology, education, and health that were occurring in the world outside India. The Indians observed and modernized in their own manner. I have little information about previous generations of Ravi’s mother’s family but assume they had been high caste and wealthy landowners. They broke from tradition and sent a son to London for his schooling. Ravi’s maternal grandfather, in signing letters on his office stationary, wrote after his name: Esqr., B.A., Barrister-at-Law, Bangalore Cantt., informing the reader that he was a London educated lawyer with his practice and his printing press based in the British Cantonment area of Bangalore. Everyone addressed him as Panditji, the title attributed to a scholar or an honored teacher, or to someone as impressive as he apparently was. His eldest son, whom we called Dada, later ran the printing press and the family home on Ulsoor Road at the cantonment. Two sons entered the Indian government civil service and one joined Air India.

The family was deeply influenced by the British presence in Bangalore but I know of no member of the family who had a close relationship with any non-Indian. I met an English man in the printing press and he seemed on good terms with Dada but this was a working relationship, not personal. In 1963, at the Club where the family spent much of their time, I noticed two elderly English ladies in the dining room, the entire scene feeling quite Victorian. In later visits, I saw no non-Indians in the Club or anywhere else.

The cantonment had its beginning in 1792 when the British East India Company army took over the village at Lake Ulsoor outside Bangalore Petta, evidently uninterested in the town but intent upon breaching the stone walls of its fort and defeating Tippu Sultan, ruler of the Mysore Kingdom. This they accomplished and stayed on to prepare for the final assault on Tippu in his strongly fortified capital city, Srirangapattana. In 1799, allied with the ruler of Hyderabad, the British defeated and killed Tippu Sultan in Srirangapattana, ransacked his palace, then stationed their troops in the city. They had at last brought to an end the wars Tippu Sultan had waged for decades against other Indian rulers and the British. Subsequently, British imperialism reigned. At least, it brought peace to the people.

Canons from Tippu’s Bangalore fort were recently unearthed. This canon at Srirangapattna functioned as it should in battle and additionally expressed in the embellishment that its power came from Tippu and no other ruler. I wonder where the canon was forged. Tippu was international in diplomatic and commercial contacts.

Tippu’s cannon at Shrirangapatana

After Tippu’s defeat, the British established a large cantonment in Srirangapattana, only to feel themselves defeated by swarms of mosquitos and the illnesses endemic to a city totally surrounded by water. By 1800, the Governor of Madras Presidency had decided to seek a better location for a cantonment within the Mysore Kingdom. A military engineer was assigned the task, and after surveying the territory, he selected Bangalore for its climate and location. The Bangalore cantonment was founded in 1809.

Cantonment was one of the many new words I encountered in India. It was the place where the family went to shop and I had so much new happening to me from simply being there that I was satisfied with Ravi’s explanation about it being the English part of town. I learn now that a cantonment originated as a military station and that the British located one in many cities across India, especially in North India, where they found the greatest need for defense from outside, and after the Indian rebellion of 1857, from inside as well. The widespread rebellion against the British led to the dissolution of the East India Company in 1858. Thereafter, India was governed directly from London by the state, by the Crown.

Bangalore had the largest cantonment in South India, different from other cantonments (and, I suspect, from any other British colony in India) because of the Bangalore climate. Europeans of the era did not adapt easily to the tropics. For example, a large number of British military and civilian men were stationed in Madras/Chennai city to administer the Madras Province of British India. The city was known as the winter capital because winter was the one season of the year when the British felt reasonably comfortable in the region’s usual sultry heat. From May to October they moved, the officials with their families and above all, the Governor and his family, to Ootacmund, or Ooty, a town high in the Nilgiri Hills of Tamil Nadu, quite a distance from Madras. As a hill station it was gradually transformed into an English village where the British carried on a full English social life in their bungalows, public buildings and gardens. In Madras the colonial establishment was a working world of British men, sharply separated from the home and other aspects of a private life. In Ooty, the British engaged in sports, even with the Indian elite, entertained in the home, visited in the Club, and women were present, observing the men’s world of work. In many parts of India, the colonial officers preferred this more natural, relaxed atmosphere for carrying out their official duties and shifted as much as possible of their working time to their hill station.

Who would want to escape Bangalore’s weather? Not I. Like everyone else, I found it most agreeable and was never bothered by insect life. The city is situated at a high elevation. Winters are mild and summers are quite warm but rarely hot. Rain comes in two monsoons, rarely excessively heavy.

This is a scene in the Bangalore cantonment, from the Illustrated Weekly of London, clearly showing something more than a military base.

Strolling on the Parade Grounds

It is undoubtedly of the cantonment’s Parade Ground, a large area the establishment maintained as a place to stage military reviews, ceremonial displays and band music concerts for high level officials and their wives, as well as a place with lawns, trees and paths for everyone to enjoy. (Europeans only, of course) St. Mark’s Church garden was nearby. The Anglican Churches, St Mark’s and Trinity, and European businesses, shops, restaurants lined South Parade Road, now MG Road, on the southern edge of the grounds.

To see the two cities on the 1924 map, we must follow the ragged red line that circles and marks the boundary between the City and the Civil and Military Station. (Toll gates, or octroi, were set at the border between the two cities but I do not know where they were located.) The two named roads lead to the two centers of authority, the road to Madras in the CMS and the road to Mysore in Bangalore City.

The Residency is in the cantonment, to the west, near the Race Course, originally on a 12 acre site at Residency Road, built as the official residence from where the British Resident administered the Kingdom of Mysore and is presently the official residence of the Governor of Karnataka.

This is the High Ground, in elevation and in prestige. Public buildings, the Post Office and Public Offices, were located conveniently within walking or a carriage ride distance from the homes of the elite. The Jail (Goal) is in the City, north of the Petta.

The Public Offices on the map is the Attara Kacheri, secretariat building of the State of Mysore in 1864 and now the High Court of Karnataka. In the 1870s Cubbon Park was laid out behind the Residency with a Museum at the other end of the street, plus a statue of Queen Victoria, symbol of British India, in the Park

The Attara Kacheri

Hopeville, a house on the Residency estate built for Sir Mark Cubbon and where a few Residents later stayed, survives today somewhat hidden behind a major bank building. Other important buildings in Bangalore were modeled on it, including the Bangalore Club on Residency Road, of special importance to Ravi’s family.

Hopeville

On the 1924 map — The areas of the soldiers’ barracks are marked.

Cantonment Barracks

Going clockwise on the map — The Transport Lines would be located out in the northern countryside because the Transport Corps was in charge of the horses used to supply and move the troops. They are at the Polo Ground. The Sepoy (Indian) lines are to the lower left of the Cantonment Bazaar. Sapper Lines are upper right of the Bazaar and the Sappers Practice Ground is to the east near a lake. (This is probably the Sapper and Miner Corps.) Infantry lines are below Ulsoor Lake, at the General Parade Ground. Artillary lines are southeast and the Artillary Practice Ground further south. The Cavalry Lines have their own Mess, an adjacent Mounted Parade and a Veterinary Hospital nearby. Further south and west are the Native Cavalry Lines, quite isolated from the others but with its Veterinary Hospital. The Mysore Infantry Lines are on the Mysore Road. The officers had their own housing in the charming bungalows for which Bangalore is known.

And they had their Club.

British Officers’ Club 1902

Lt. Henry Jervis’ Bangalore Bungalow in 1831

Besides the architecture, this picture shows officers in an era before they had families with them. The Suez Canal opened later, in 1869, significantly shortening and easing the journey between Britain and India, making it feasible for women and children to live in the colony. The image of European colonial privilege and Indians as a servant population always disturbs me.

On the map — The Lookout Tower in the south, in what is now Lal Bagh Park, marks one of four towers Kempe Gowda built to indicate the future outlines of his city.

I think I can explain the Rifle Ranges at the top of the map. Bangalore had its own rifle corps.

Bangalore Volunteer Rifles Badge

Briefly, the British Indian government introduced civilian volunteer corps into the military after the 1857 Rebellion. They were local men tasked with local security, although during periods of war compulsory service could be required and later volunteer service resumed. The corps was European but “Eurasians” might join, although not in any position of authority. The Bangalore Battalion auxiliary regiment began in 1868 as the Bangalore Rifle Volunteers. In 1940 their uniform was rifle green faced with scarlet. I wonder if Ravi knew of them. In 1949, in Wilson College, he was a Sergeant in the student 1st Bombay Battalion. He is second from the right.

Sergeant Ravi

Back to the map — The reddish dots along streets and Miller’s Tank area seem to indicate housing and buildings. Public Rooms appear near South Parade. Are they a type of hotel accommodation? The Towns – Richard’s, Fraser, Cleveland, Richmond, etc. – were English-style suburbs in the cantonment built for the officers, for military men who stayed on, many of them marrying Tamil women, and for British or European families who had come to set up or work in one of the many businesses, churches, schools, hospitals, health facilities, libraries, charities. The towns had tree-lined streets on a grid pattern, attractive bungalow style houses, parks, churches, schools for both boys and girls, clubs, sports activities, charities. The Bungalow marked on the map in Richmond Town, now almost totally destroyed, may have been an Officers’ Mess, a large complex, wonderful looking building.

Richmond Town Officers’ bungalow

The word bungalow comes from India, maybe Bengal. The bungalows of Bangalore are special. See below.

The Anglo-Indian presence in the Towns was large. In 1882 the Maharaja of Mysore granted land outside the city to the Eurasian community, now the Whitefield suburb of Bangalore. It was the only such settlement in India. I have a vague memory from my first time in Bangalore of going with Ravi to meet a friend in a restaurant, probably near Commercial St. We had come from the bright sun into a low-lit interior. I was surprised; the friend was English but the discussion was about their Byculla neighborhood in Bombay. When we stepped outside and I could see more clearly, I realized the young man was Anglo-Indian. Ravi talked with me about Anglo-Indians running the trains of India and spoke sympathetically of their anomalous situation in Indian society, as a community accepted fully by neither the British nor the caste Indians.

Two hospitals are marked on the map, Bowring Civil Hospital at the southeast border of the Bazaar. The Lady Curzon Hospital for women was later and adjoins it. Victoria Hospital is in the old fort area in the City.

Lady Curzon Hospital 1864

After the plague epidemic in 1898 many actions were taken to institute public health measures, including telephone lines to facilitate communication and the appointment of a Public Health Officer.

Victoria Hospital 1897

The Cantonment Bazaar is, and probably always was, the most densely populated part of town. It is where Indians from outside the region came to work as servants and laborers or as craftsmen or traders able to establish themselves and their families there. The names of streets on today’s city map seem to me primarily Tamil or Muslim, minorities in this Hindu Kannada region. Catholic St. Mary’s Basilica is in the Bazaar, consecrated in 1882 but preceded on that site by a chapel built in 1803 by a French priest.

On the upper left of the map is the Tata Science Institute. The main building was completed in 1913. When Jamsetji Tata proposed setting up an endowment for a science institute the Royal Society of London recommended that he locate it in Bangalore. Tata is Parsi. I know nothing of the Parsis in Bangalore but assume they had important business enterprises in the city. It must have been a sizable community because the Hotel Royal, a luxurious hotel east of the Bazaar, near Ulsoor Tank, on Infantry Road near Commercial Street, was for Parsis only. It may have been still standing when Ravi and Papaji walked in that area. In 1942, Papaji wrote from Benares to a tailor with a Tamil name, c/o Chatty Hall, Cloth Merchants, Commercial Street, about a Chesterfield, a top coat, he had ordered for Ravi. He was asking for the bill so he could pay by Money Order. The tailor in that area where Ravi’s aunt took me to have my camise-silvar made was named Baba Rao and she spoke Maharati with him. In later years he was too busy supplying an Indian store in London with ready-made sari blouses and petticoats to bother sewing for us.

The telegraph and the railroad were critical to the military and to Bangalore’s future economic development. The Telegraph Office is near South Parade. The cantonment train station is on a rail line from Madras. Madras Railway was early and in 1868 extended its network to the cantonment. In 1882 the line was extended to Bangalore City. A rail line from the north, to the station in Bangalore City would have been built later. In 1963 Ravi and I took a train from Bombay to Bangalore and it stopped in Guntakal, where the line changed from standard gauge tracks to narrow gauge tracks. (or was it vice versa?) I remember the station because our children were fascinated with the three-legged dogs, victims of their lifestyle, running across the tracks in search of food scraps dropped by train passengers.

In 1903, motor vehicles came to Bangalore, along with businesses ready to sell and repair them. Beginning in 1906, Bangalore City was one of the first cities in India to have electricity. It was generated at a hydroelectric power plant located in an area of waterfalls within Mysore State and commissioned by the Diwan, Prime Minister, of the State of Mysore. Street lighting for the cantonment was inaugurated in 1908.

Bangalore has had from its beginning a dynamic and growing economy. When we visited the family in 1977 I noticed on the wall of the house down the street a plaque naming that family’s house “Silicon Valley”, portending the city’s future.

I am learning about Ravi’s Bangalore. I cannot begin to imagine today’s Bangalore. Next I will briefly describe a third part of Bangalore, then trace Ravi’s steps through the city in the 1940s, when he was a child, and try to see the city through his eyes.

But first – – The original bungalows of Bangalore are being lost to development and to neglect. However, the style still informs Bangalore’s residential architecture and some of the original bungalows are being renovated. Here are photos of bungalows in Richmond Town taken by an intrepid fan of this part of the city’s culture. The photo of what looks like a bungalow converted into a shop is included to show the “monkey top” under the gable roof. The drawing on the cover of Janet Pott’s book shows the design of the Bangalore bungalow.

Bangalore bungalow

Bangalore bungalow

A Modern Bangalore Bungalow

Formerly a bungalow

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