Military encampment in Delhi’s Khanpur/Tughlaqabad, 1932

 

The above photographs come from an album documenting a military camp and exercises held on the outskirts of Delhi in 1932. Taken by a British officer, the images capture not only the military activity but also the entourage of Indian servants who accompanied the British Indian Army. These images offer valuable insight into the scale of such military manoeuvres, which became a routine aspect of life in Delhi after the Rebellion of 1857, and they underscore how caste-based employment was reinforced in the army.

In the photographs, we see Indian farriers tending to horses and ‘boot boys’ responsible for repairing and polishing military boots. These workers were either part of the army’s permanent staff or locally recruited. Given that the officer was stationed at the Delhi barracks in the Red Fort, it is likely that the Indian men pictured were also from Delhi.

Beyond military life, the photographs also capture glimpses of everyday rural life, including scenes of local agriculture (an example is below). The encampment at Khanpur and Tughlaqabad would have required steady supplies, likely sourced from nearby cultivators. A fascination with ‘cultural difference’ led to the inclusion of rural communities in such visual records, highlighting the intersection between military presence and local livelihoods.

Rocket Despatches at the Delhi Jamboree, 1937

1937 was an intriguing year for Delhi. The newly established capital hosted Baden Powell’s All India Scouts Jamboree, a festive event that brought scouts and guide groups from across India. The Delhi Jamboree was also a significant event for an Anglo-Indian man called Stephen Smith and his ‘Rocket Mail’ experiments. The stamp that you see above was one of several philatelic items put inside a rocket to demonstrate the power and future of ‘Rocket Mail’.

Stephen Smith, an Anglo-Indian man with an Indian mother and British father, was actually a trained dentist with a passion for rocketeering. Smith would go on to earn the title of the “father of Indian aerophilately”—the practice of sending mail via airborne methods. At the time, Rocket Mail was envisioned as a revolutionary technology—harnessing rockets to transport mail, and at times even small animals, across short distances(!) Though his experiments yielded mixed results until then, the Jamboree offered Smith a grand stage to ignite public imagination—particularly among children—with the possibilities of rocket science.

While Delhi’s tryst with rocket mail might seem straight out of a science fiction book, similar experiments were already underway in Germany and other parts of Europe from the 1920s. Smith and Delhi, then, were on the pulse of global scientific experimentation in the early 20th century—even as these experiments unfolded within imperial structures that often obscured who was permitted to innovate and who was left out of the narrative.

References: https://www.indianairmails.com/indian-rocket-mail.html

https://astrotalkuk.org/stephen-smith-and-leslie-johnson-development-of-rockets-during-the-1930s-and-letters-from-calcutta-to-liverpool/

Lady Hardinge Medical College and its potential as an 'All India Institute' in 1948

 

The above is a photo feature from the 1920s on Delhi’s Lady Hardinge Medical College. Established in 1916 as a women-only medical institution, the college was founded by Lady Hardinge, the wife of then Viceroy George Hardinge. For a brief period the college was also considered as a potential 'All India Institute' for medical training.

By 1948, following India's independence, the newly formed central government was faced with the daunting task of expanding healthcare access across the country. Healthcare infrastructure had been severely neglected under British rule, and the financial situation was dire. The massive influx of refugees after Partition added further strain, raising urgent questions about how both provincial and central authorities could manage public health.

Despite these challenges, the Ministry of Health made budgetary provisions to bring Lady Hardinge Medical College under central administration, envisioning it as a temporary 'All India Institute' for the training of health professionals. This was seen as an interim solution, as the Government of India aspired to establish a purpose-built All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS) in Delhi—but lacked the funds to launch the project immediately.

Ultimately, AIIMS was officially established in 1961, in line with the recommendations of the Bhore Committee report of 1943. Lady Hardinge College carried on its operations eventually coming under the remit of the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare in the 1970s.

Reference: A.S Mehta, 'India's Progress on the Health Front', Aug 15, 1949, Times of India, pg. 2

The Central Publicity Bureau in Delhi, 1930s

In the late 1930s, Delhi’s Shamnath Marg (known as Alipur Road at the time) was a hub of activity. It was home to the Central Publicity Bureau of British India, overseen by the Chief Publicity Officer. Among the Bureau’s responsibilities was the promotion of cities like Delhi, especially those accessible by rail.

Unlike pilgrimage or commercial traffic, the railways had begun to identify a growing segment of 'luxury tourism' heading toward the imperial capital during the 1930s and 1940s. While the Bureau’s larger focus was on promoting the operations of the Indian State Railways across the country, Delhi featured prominently on the tourist circuit. Publicity officers maintained short guides and promotional literature and liaised with certified tourist agents.

Here’s what one such Indian State Railways guide had to say about luxury travel:

“If you wish to travel in luxury, take a private coach and see India in comfort. Stop when and where you like, for as long as you like. You can have your own personal servants and their direct continuous service, your private parlour and bedrooms, the meals you wish for cooked in the way you like. Consult any Tourist Agency or any of the Officers detailed above.”

The guide also featured a detailed map showing how Delhi could be reached by various railway lines—from Meerut, Agra, Bombay, and more. You can see that map here:

 

Amita Malik on Delhi in 1957

 

A colour postcard of Delhi's Connaught Circus in the 1950s

The picture above is a postcard of Connaught Circus that I found online. It sets the stage well for Amita Malik's 1957 article on Delhi. Malik, a fiercely opinionated journalist and radio broadcaster, earned the moniker the “First Lady of Indian Media.” Interestingly, her piece Oh to be in Delhi in the Times of India evokes a new nostalgia—one shared by the urban middle classes and literati who made the city their home after 1947. This wasn’t a longing for the pre-1857 Delhi or the Shahr-i-Ashoob (“ruined city”) lamentation we associate with earlier nostalgic writings about the capital. The tone is also different from S.C. Kala's article in the same newspaper a year earlier where he was critical of how class and power had reshaped Delhi in the 1950s (see my earlier piece on the 11th of April).

While Malik was jaded by the “welter of traffic” and the new bureaucratic culture (something shared by her and Kala) that had come to define the city, she also offers glimpses into people and places that had become cherished and longed for—many of which have since faded from memory. For example, she writes:
"One remembers the unspoilt charm of the Punjabi schoolgirl in her shalwar-kameez and pigtails, the little old Sikh on Irwin Road (now Baba Kharak Singh Marg) who never forgets to throw in that extra bunch of hara dhania with the week’s vegetables, the shop assistant who writes poetry in Connaught Circus."

These are fragments from a past that now feels distant, but in the 1950s, they resonated with a sense of belonging and familiarity.

A short post from me today. See you next week. 

Reference: Malik, Amita 'Of, To be in Delhi', Times of India, May 27, 1957.