Our heritage, Nimtali gate

THE historical consciousness of the Bengali people is a debatable matter. The nature and environment of Bangladesh may be largely responsible for this tendency to neglect the past. The relentless passage of time eradicates the extraordinary achievements of countless people.
They are washed away by the torrents of rushing waters and the ruinous monsoons, aided by the spreading tentacles of the roots of the ficus. Thus, memories are replaced by oblivion; the realities of past ages are buried with time and new pasts created.
Bengalis cannot be overly concerned with preserving the past. They have learnt to accept unhesitatingly that whatever is created and achieved today on the strength of belief, in the hope of bringing well-being and good fortune, will be obliterated tomorrow. It is not our nature to preserve the documents of the past, to analyse them afresh, to see the past in the light of the present and to use it to build the future.
Festivities are in the air celebrating 400 years of Dhaka. Though it is unfathomable why we are celebrating 400 years of Dhaka, yet, through word of mouth, through publicity and celebrations, we seem to be bent on affixing Dhaka's age at 400! Regardless of the evidence and testimony of history we are caught up in the tide of festivities. We are neglecting the fact that there was a fort, Qella Mubarakabad, already in existence in the area of the present central jail. It was called Girdai, or strong fort.
This is where Mansingh arrived to begin his subehdari when he reached Dhaka through Rajmahal-Tanda (1601/1602). This is where Islam Khan was also stationed before he named Dhaka "Jahangirnagar."
That Dhaka was already a prominent city in the fifteenth century, 150 years before the arrival of Islam Khan, is proved by the stone inscriptions giving the founding dates of three mosques in Dhaka. These are Binat Bibi's mosque (1456), Naswa Gali's mosque (1459) and the mosque in Mirpur (1461).
Archaeological excavations at Lalbag Fort also provide evidence to substantiate this fact. Perhaps, with time and aided by the politics of silence, we will be able to eradicate the pre-Mughal history of Dhaka, which goes much further back than 400 years.
Whenever it is hard to counter arguments with logic and rationality, silence is the ultimate weapon. Throttling unwarranted arguments with the politics of silence is a most useful and popular strategy. Let arguments run loose, but what is intended must continue to be done, despite all.
An excellent example of the eradication of history is evidenced in the willful destruction of our historical edifices, both, by sitting back and letting them silently crumble or by blatantly distorting them in the name of conservation.
We see many examples of the terrible consequences of this dangerous tendency all around us. For example, only recently the Churihatta Mosque of the Mughal period was demolished.
It is curious that, at the very same time plans were in the air for the celebration of the 400 years of Dhaka, there was no strong protest against the destruction of such an important monument. Over-zealous attempts at restoration are just as responsible for the destruction of archaeological evidence as is the lack of it. The Shat-Gumbad mosque at Bagerhat is the victim of irredeemable damage.
This distinctive mosque of the Sultani era has lost its glorious fine open brickwork under a coat of plaster. It had displayed a unique expression of the indigenous artistic tradition combined with the fresh trends brought in by the Muslims.
The enormous Buddhist monastery at Paharpur was founded in the eighth century. Its importance in the field of architecture and sculpture cannot be over-emphasised. It provided the primary form and direction for future evolutions.
The Somapura Vihara is now tragically damaged, unauthentic and "new" in the efforts to restore it. It is more shocking that, though the Shat-Gumbad mosque and Paharpur were declared World Heritage Sites by Unesco and millions spent on conserving them with Unesco support, the restoration led to such catastrophic results.
Countless similar examples stare us in the face, the Lalbagh Fort, the Sat Gumbad mosque in Dhaka, Eidgah, Ahsan Manzil, Panam Nagar; wherever there is conservation the result is the creation of something new which lacks research, lacks judgment, is historically unauthentic and goes against conservation ethics.
The traditional role of the conservator involves the examination, conservation and preservation of cultural material as closely as possible to its original condition for as long as possible. At present, the definition of conservation has expanded -- and it may be described as ethical stewardship.
The conservator applies some simple ethical guidelines, such as: minimal intervention; the use of appropriate methods and materials that aim to be reversible to reduce possible problems in future treatment, investigation and use; full documentation of all work undertaken.
Interventive conservation refers to any act by the conservator that leads to the direct interaction between the conservator and the cultural material. Interventive treatments could involve the cleaning, stabilising, repair, or replacement of parts of the cultural material. The conservator must justify any such work and document the work before, during and after the treatment. All conservation procedure should be as reversible as possible.
All alterations should be clearly distinguishable from the original object or specimen. The conservator's work is guided by ethical standards that take the form of applied ethics, and these have been established across the world. National and international ethical guidelines have been written. It must be noted that architectural conservation is a very specialised area.
The concerned authorities seem to be completely unconcerned about this issue, which is why indiscriminate destruction of cultural material continues in Bangladesh. What then is their role? Do they have accountability or any measure of control?
While all conscious peoples and nations expend limitless efforts, resources and labour in preserving the past for the sake of the identity of a people and to shape the future, we are reveling in meaningless destruction.
Whatever we have kept untouched is swallowed up in unplanned urbanisation and beautification. Their existence is meaningless because they fail to touch the sensibilities of the people or awaken their sense of pride in their heritage.
They are lost amidst a jungle of countless discordant buildings with no resemblance to what had been their original environment. They seem unwanted, and have turned to so much litter on the cityscape.
Thus, when the Asiatic Society of Bangladesh announced that it has undertaken the responsibility of restoring the Nimtali Gate, built as an entry to the residential compound of Naib Nazim Jasarat Khan by the British (1765), we were filled with misgivings. The building activity in Dhaka under the British began with the construction of the Nimtali Gate.
Are we then going to see another of our historical monuments ruined in the name of conservation or taking on a new form, or will this renowned organisation take recourse to research and use judgment and wisdom in the execution of this responsible task?
It must be remembered that what is once lost can never be regained. The gate now stands awkwardly wedged in between two large buildings. There is no space to appreciate its aesthetic appeal, to view the building from a distance or from different angles.
However, it still stands, a silent representative of times long past, and is part of our heritage. The responsible authorities are urged to let their good sense and judgment prevail, and to help preserve the property of the people for the people.

Lala Rukh Selim is Associate Professor, Department of Sculpture, Faculty of Fine Arts, University of Dhaka.