Blogs from the field
Between 16th and 20th September 2008, Jonathan Foyle and David Gundry returned to Osmania Women’s College, part of Hyderabad University . With the Conservation Management Plan nearing completion, Jonathan records his thoughts on his first visit to the site and first experience of India.
Hyderabad, India
Just south of the centre of India, Hyderabad is a city with two and a half times the population of London. So exponential and rapid was its recent growth, that when I arrived at the airport with David Gundry he was puzzled by its unfamiliarity and incredulous of the taxi fare we were quoted: ‘It is NOT 40 kilometres from the airport to Jubilee Hills!’ And indeed it wasn’t - from the old airport, but this silver and white canopy had sprung up to replace it during the eight months since David’s previous visit. It was 3.30 a.m. and our drive followed the course of a vast flyover under construction, tens of thousands of tons of concrete snaking into the city of the future. Our mission was to help preserve an important part of the city’s past.
Hyderabad is divided north and south by the winding Musi River. The north side is a sprawl of teeming roads lined with shops and carts laden with all the merchandise under the sun, surrounding Hussein Sagar, a reservoir of notable calm with a presiding statue of Buddha. Traffic and noise is constant, but just off Bank Street is a locked gate to the campus of Osmania Women’s College, part of Hyderabad University.
Our first day’s work leads us through the north of the city to the college in rush hour. The first sense of the college campus is of quiet: an overgrown formal garden offering a green oasis, rich with flowers, butterflies, and monkeys clambering over the walls. The sight of the Governor’s Residence is to witness a grand Cheltenham villa abroad. Built by James Kirkpatrick in the first two decades of the nineteenth century, it’s a chunky block the colour of butter, with a large, cool marble-floored portico, and surrounded by students in bright silks smiling in a spirit of cheerful self-improvement. They tell us they would like to see the Darbar Hall restored as a ceremonial venue for graduations and events. It’s clear they’re proud of it. And it’s soon clear that this Watch-listed building is in a dreadful state, especially so just after the monsoon period.
An inspection shows rainwater seeping through walls two storeys high. Some of the cast iron ceiling panels have fallen in, and the bay on the west side has detached. Plants grow from the parapets, a water tank on the roof drips when it doesn’t pour, and the flashing directs water into the walls, which soak and blister. We worry that a torn canvas pulled over a hole in the roof may not substantially help. But then I learn that a recent appointment has been made - a snake catcher - as 2 ½ metre-long pythons occasionally find themselves in classrooms.
It’s easy to understand why avoiding encounters with lethal snakes is a priority, but decay to this building must be stemmed. We return after several days of discussions with the knowledge our commissioned Conservation Management Plan will be received in November. It will help us form a plan of action to help the University secure this historic building, a piece of Britain abroad that - after a lot of hard and dirty work - has a potentially much brighter future.
