4 min readFeb 24, 2026 12:32 PM IST First published on: Feb 24, 2026 at 12:32 PM ISTEdwin Lutyen’s bust stood at the staircase court in Rashtrapati Bhavan. He probably never imagined it would be placed there. After all, this was the place where the carriages arrived. Open to the skies, this was a perfect instance of a transitional space, in keeping with New Delhi’s tropical climes. Along with Herbert Baker, Lutyens designed imperial Delhi, giving the Viceroy’s House, now the Rashtrapati Bhavan, a classical sense of order and novel geometry so different from the tightly packed old city.As he travelled to different parts of the country, Lutyens would return armed with ideas and forms that found their place in the monumental structure – jaalis from Red Fort in Shahjahanabad; patterns from Golkonda Fort in Andhra Pradesh; the idea of the central dome and the railings from Sanchi stupa in Madhya Pradesh, perhaps even from the Pantheon in Rome. With public and private spaces, corridors and forecourts, the sandstone-and-marble-clad estate, on the 33-acre plot, is evidence of a cultural synthesis, which is dressed to the doorknob with meticulous precision.AdvertisementLittle wonder, then, that more than a 100 years later, architects and homeowners still want the grandiose columns and painted ceilings in their buildings. Since 2012, Rashtrapati Bhavan has also been open to the public, allowing access to the grandiose interiors of this porous, yet private space. The new Parliament in the Central Vista redevelopment, too, tips its hat to the older structures in the vicinity. What is it about the past that we need to hold on to, and what do we let go of? It’s a struggle of a lifetime, not only for our personal lives but for a nation that is trying so hard to disrobe the heavy coat of colonisation. We forget it lives rent-free in our heads.Also Read | Tavleen Singh writes: Lutyens Delhi remains as privileged as under Congress rule, only the inhabitants of bungalows have changedOne could understand the removal of the marble statue of King George V, near India Gate, in 1968 — he was a ruler. Does an architect hold the same position? In his essay, “Is There an Indian Way of Thinking” (1989), A K Ramanujan writes: “When Indians learn, quite expertly, modern science, business or technology, they ‘compartmentalise’ these interests, the new ways of thought and behaviour do not replace but live along with the older ‘religious’ ways. Computers and typewriters receive ayudhapuja (worship of weapons) as weapons of war once did. The modern, the context-free becomes one more context.”Cultural borrowings have always had room in art. The genius of Kumar Gandharva lay in his ability to stretch his music canvas to include the sounds and songs of weavers, farmers and folk musicians. Artists such as S H Raza, F N Souza and M F Husain have drawn influences from Cubism. TS Eliot borrowed the famous Da.Da.Da lines in “What the Thunder Said” in “The Wasteland” (1930) from the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad. Architecture has always been the canvas that has drawn from different disciplines, be it physics, biology, art or music. What is passed down then is not just form or function, but knowledge – how did they apply that technique, what material did they use, what was the social response to the space, what cultural significance did it carry? These are the intangibles that one never sees in buildings.AdvertisementAll of this comes from a place of uncertainty. Because, ultimately, doubt is the essence of progress, of science, of faith. In uncertainty is born democracy, in uncertainty lies dialogue. So even as we are sure by the symbolic removal of names, places and things, we can absolve ourselves of the past, we forget it is also possible to live and not know.shiny.varghese@expressindia.com