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You cannot go inside Qutb Minar because a stampede killed nearly 40 school children in 1981, and more importantly because it makes the ASI’s job much easier, finds out ASHISH SHARMA

Some years ago, there were several suicides. Then, on December 4, 1981, there was a stampede killing some 40 school children. Up, up and 72.5 metres away from the expanding expanse of the Capital city, the Minar has since towered in deathly silence. The 379 winding steps that once witnessed the blossoming of Nutan and Dev Anand’s cinematic romance have since been dark and desolate. And the representative face of historic Delhi remains locked to the prying present.

Qutb Minar still attracts more than 15 lakh visitors every year. But the charm has considerably withered. The highest single tower in the world, higher than the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Great Pagoda, it is also the only monument which affords an aerial view of the entire city. ‘‘From the top of the Minar there is the finest view of all the Delhis,’’ observed historian Percival Spear in his definitive 1943 study Delhi: Its Monuments And History. ‘‘Look just below and trace out the walls of Lal Kot. Look along the road to Delhi and you will see on the left hand the Hauz Khas and on the right hand the walls of Jahanpanah and Siri. From here the Khilji and Tughlaq kings watched the wild Mongol hordes when they threatened Delhi. From here Mohammad Tughlaq watched Timur’s army camped on the Willingdon Airport. Further off you will see on one side the walls of Tughlaqabad. On another side you will see Humayun’s Tomb and the Purana Qila. Then come Firoz Shah Kotla and the domes of the Jama Masjid. On another side is Safdarjang’s tomb and New Delhi. On the last side is the rocky ground to the south west. On this side is the tomb of Sultan Ghari among the rocks. Notice how the roads are marked by the avenue of trees. When the land is dry they look like green snakes wriggling across the country. Except for Rome, there is no finer view of historical buildings in the world.’’

No more. Ever since the tragedy, the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), in charge of the upkeep of the monument, has used the tragedy to justify complete denial of public access, all in the name of conservation and the safety of the visitors. So you can go to the complex, skirt around the Minar, see the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque, the famed iron pillar that refuses to rust and sundry other points of interest. But the entry inside the Minar remains forbidden.

Little wonder then that the present-day visitor has somewhat different feelings and an altogether different view. And not the least because you can only look up at the Minar. Barthoulot Magali, a 23-year-old student of speech therapy from Lyon, France, who has combined social work with sightseeing on her second visit to the country, does like the monument, mainly because she says she likes all things ancient. ‘‘I didn’t like Lotus Temple because it is too modern,’’ avers Magali. Qutb Minar, started by Qutbuddin Aibak, the first Muslim ruler to choose Delhi as his capital, in 1199 AD, is suitably old. However, she says wistfully, ‘‘It would have been nice to go up and look at the city,’’ before adding hastily, ‘‘Of course, I wouldn’t like to enter if it was not safe. And the tourist guides tell me that it was closed only because it was not safe.’’

Magali only echoes the general perception. ‘‘It is better to close the Minar to public than to have wretched people jumping down to take their lives,’’ says Ashis Banerjee, Member Secretary, Indian National Trust for Art And Cultural Heritage. ‘‘Why not, if it is for good reasons?’ echoes Professor A. G. K. Menon, TVB School of Habitat Studies, ‘‘If the Leaning Tower of Pisa can be closed to public for the safety of the structure, Qutb Minar can also be closed for the safety of the visitors.’’ Conservationist Nina Rao, who teaches tourism at the College of Vocational Studies, agrees that closing the monument is an accepted system of control, especially in a low awareness environment where the enforcer is corrupt and the civil society is lawless.

‘‘Qutb Minar is closed to public not only to maintain the monument but also to protect the visitors,’’ says Komal Anand, Director General, ASI. As she reminds, it is not just the Qutb Minar but also most of the structures inside Red Fort and the tombs inside Taj Mahal, besides several other heritage sites that are kept out of bounds. So, even as Anand informs that the entry fee might soon be doubled to Rs 10, access to the Minar cannot be allowed. Controlled access, whereby batches of a limited number of visitors could be allowed entry, has apparently not even been considered. Nothing illustrates our attitude to heritage and conservation better.
Everybody agrees that controlled access can do little harm to the monument even while ensuring the safety of the visitors. It can only add considerably to the monument’s charm. ‘‘Closure, of course, is only the easiest option,’’ says Nina Rao, ‘‘The question to be answered is: why do we always go for the easier options?’’

Precisely. This attitude is also reflected in the conservation being carried out at the Qutb complex. In the Minar itself, old carved stones are being replaced by red sandstone. ‘‘If this continues,’’ warns Professor A. K. Sinha, Delhi Institute of Heritage Research And Management, ‘‘in just a few years, the entire Minar will turn into a modern structure.’’ Professor Menon too deplores the practice, particularly in view of the fact that Qutb Minar is a World Heritage Site and the ASI is a signatory to international conservation norms, which specifically prohibit such replacements. ‘‘International norms dictate that you cannot replace original structure for aesthetic reasons,’’ he says, ‘‘By doing that, you are falsifying history. Replacement can only be justified for structural reasons.’’

The ASI, then, has taken over where the British left after the monument passed from Qutbuddin Aibak to Iltutmish to Firoz Shah Tughlaq through Sikander Lodi, all of whom made their contributions to the five-storied tower. As Professor Sinha points out, though, the closure of the monument is a tacit admission on the part of the country’s premier conservation institution that heritage can only be protected by keeping it under lock and key. And as Nina Rao says, the closure also speaks volumes about the visitors, none of which is flattering.

Even as we engage in debating history, and often display dangerous enthusiasm in correcting its perceived wrongs, we are unwittingly shutting our windows to the past. Heritage, we forget, is what we make of our knowledge of the times gone by. And access is the first critical step in the process.

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