Willingdon Airport (ca. 1936)

This is a picture of Willingdon Airport (known as Safdarjung Airport today) from 1936. It’s an official photo, released by the Government of India and publicises the airport (Delhi’s First) as a crowning achievement of ‘New’ Delhi which was inaugurated just a few years earlier in 1931. Lord Willingdon was also the Viceroy of India at the time and so the christening (the famous Lodi Gardens was also named after the Viceroy’s wife so we have a process of the Willingdon-ization of Delhi in the 1930s). You can just about see the boundary wall of the 18^th century Safdarjung’s tomb in the top of the left of the photograph. 

 

Before Willingdon’s name was attached to it, the area operated as an airfield and we have evidence that postal aeroplanes (airmail) landed here as early as 1918. Rapid communication was of the utmost importance in the governance of Imperial territories and Delhi became another hub in the expansion of the Cairo-Baghdad air route from the late 1920s. This was serviced by aircraft like the De Havilland Hercules which could carry 7 colonial officials and the much-desired airmail. Passenger traffic remained small, the railways being preferred in the 1930s for example, to cater to the former. With the Second World War, air traffic in Delhi increased and Willingdon airport became important in the India-Burma theatre. 

 

While the above gives some indication of the relationship between the development of airways and the maintenance of Empire (and Delhi, of course!), I sometimes wonder if we read too much into this. For example, did the absence of ‘frontiers’ in the skies increase anxieties around policing and sovereignty? Did this ever match the fear of land-based policing? I suppose aviation historians can help out here. 

  

To return to our story, Willingdon airport became Safdarjung Airport after the independence of India in 1947. It was overtaken by the Palam Airport (Indira Gandhi International Airport today) after the 1960s as Delhi’s premier airport. The much smaller Safdarjung now serves as an airport for the Indian Prime minister and foreign dignitaries. 

 

I also intend to post something on the Indian National Airways, a commercial liner based in Delhi in due course so watch this space. 

 

See you next Friday.  

 

Imre Schwaiger's Art Museum

As I discussed business advertisements on postcards last week, I thought it would be good to write about this one on Imre Schwaiger’s Art Museum in early 20^th century Delhi. This postcard does not have a studio name on it so it is difficult to tell exactly who it was published by. I’d wager that it was a local studio in Delhi hired by the Schwaiger family itself. If you look closely, you might see a grainy impression of Imre Schwaiger and his wife standing next to a car.

 

Imre Schwaiger was a Hungarian businessman who moved to Delhi to take advantage of commercial opportunities. Schwaiger and Delhi’s story is a local and global one which features entrepreneurship, objects and migration, made possible by Empire. 

 

As you can see, the Schwaiger museum was opposite the Maidens Hotel, patronised by European tourists. It was prime property too so it is clear Schwaiger did well for himself. He dealt in Indian art pieces and I recently found out that he was the procurement agent for Jacques Cartier, the jeweller and interceded for museums like the V&A in London. 

 

Schwaiger’s network included Indian businesses too and he was responsible for assisting the owners of the India Arts Palace (Delhi based dealers) in their early days. He died in 1940 and the Art Museum folded soon after. Here is an article on Schwaiger on a Hungarian website (needs to be translated). https://orient-projekt.hu/eletrajzi-adatlapok/schwaiger-imre

 

See you next Friday.

 

 

Business postcards in Delhi

 

As forms of photographic circulation within the British Empire, Indian ‘picture postcards’ are beginning to receive academic attention. This is a much-needed intervention in studying how photographic inventions were adopted/adapted and circulated within imperial spaces like India. However, what we have here are two ‘non-photographic’ postcards from Delhi in the 1920s and 1930s (see below for the second postcard). These business postcards are an excellent window into Delhi’s economic and commercial networks at the time.

 

The one above is from ‘The Delhi Cloth and General Mills Company’. This was set up in 1899 and was one of 4 cotton spinning and weaving mills in Delhi at the turn of the century (I wrote a separate post on mills in Delhi on the 16^th of February). At a fundamental level, this postcard is a smooth form of advertising. It lists the products manufactured and presents easy access to phone and telegram information, presumably (but not solely) intended for European audiences and business concerns. The name of the addressee seems to be Indian cotton commissioning (?) agents from Ujjain and the back has the cost of some items ordered. 

 

The second postcard seems to better the first inasmuch as it presents information in Urdu, Devanagari and English. This is Pearelal Darogamal, lace merchants in Johri Bazar and it lists what they do in Devanagari. The Urdu text on the left simply mentions that they are ‘gota wale’ (lace merchants) in Johri bazar. This postcard is again used for a business transaction to Luchmangarh Sikar (Laxmangarh in Sikar, Rajasthan) and doubles up as an advertisement or business card. 

 

Both reveal the fascinating commercial networks that were forged through business postcards; they enabled the circulation of information and the collapse of distance. Ultimately, goods could be exchanged in a timely manner, reducing risks and ensuring profitability.

 

I intended to do another post on commercial networks in Delhi in due course. See you next Friday. 

Delhi's 'Fire King'

Here’s another one for the technology buffs. This is the ‘Fire King’ a steam fire engine that was bought by the Delhi Municipality (now the Municipal Corporation of Delhi) in the early 1900s. Built in London, Merryweather & Sons Fire Engines were exported all across the world and one of these made its way to Delhi. 

 

Now, you might ask why this engine was bought and about the history of fire protection in Delhi, more generally. Disappointingly, I have little in the way of answers- just yet. 

 

Having said this, the ‘Fire King’ presents a window into understanding the functioning of the Delhi Municipality. The latter was a cash-strapped agency but with a huge appetite for urban planning. It often dreamt of showcasing modern technological marvels but was stumped when it actually came to paying for them or was stymied by the recommendations of other imperial departments.  This meant that sometimes technological or infrastructural projects were initiated but remained incomplete. So, in the 1870s for example, the Municipality spent money on new underground drains to alleviate drainage problems in Delhi but was told to stop by government agencies on the basis of cost effectiveness and counter recommendations by urban professionals. This became a regular feature of its work and one which exacerbated sanitary difficulties and urban renewal in Delhi, as I have written about in my book. 

 

In the same vein, the purchase of the steam fire engine followed a similar technological embrace. Whether or not Delhi’s fire services improved, there was a growth in the size of the municipal establishment and its technological machinery – the evidence we have in the form of the Fire King. 

 

See you next Friday.

Naya Mandir and the Saraogis of Delhi

This is a late 19^th century image of the Naya Mandir, a Jain temple in Shahjahanabad. The temple is located in the locality of Dharampura and with its ornate facade and intricate designs, it was a ‘must-see’ on the tourist trail. While this picture above was taken by a visitor (therefore the angle), the Naya Mandir also featured on postcards of Delhi (see below).

 

A quick Google search will tell you it was built by Harsukh Rai, Emperor Akbar Shah’s treasurer in 1807. However, the Naya Mandir is closely tied to the changing fortunes of Delhi’s Jain community and their first ‘street processions’. In the Delhi State Archives, there is a set of documents on the first ever Jain Rath Yatra (chariot procession) in Delhi which relates to the former.

 

Delhi’s Jains (referred to as Sarogis in the sources) were never allowed a Rath Yatra on its principal streets such as Chandni Chowk during the Mughal era. This was because the main streets were reserved for Dussehra (Hindu) and Muharram (Muslim) festivities. When Harsukh Rai, the treasurer tried to take one out to inaugurate his temple, it was shut down by the Mughals. In a nutshell, the Mughals followed a ‘street hierarchy’ where only Hindus and Muslims (the two largest groups) would have the right to their festivities on the main streets. This was to maintain the status quo and avoid any new group however wealthy (the Jains were both), from upsetting the ritual and spatial order in Delhi. 

 

However, with the Rebellion of 1857, everything changed. Since the Mughals were gone, the Jains petitioned the British rulers and were given, for the first time, the right to hold their procession in a place like Chandni Chowk. Now, this wasn’t some benevolent gesture but came out of inchoate governmental responses that the Jains exploited ruthlessly. There were disagreements with British officials, disputes with Hindus and all sorts of squabbling over the processions and festivities for quite a long time. 

 

Anyhow, the first ever Jain Rath Yatra began in 1877 with great fanfare. The route took the Sarogis through Chandni Chowk and the procession ended at the Naya Mandir. Here is the second image as a postcard.