Few creations of the builders’ and architects’ art, anywhere in the world, speak louder of the immense wealth of the history of a nation than the mansions and palaces left behind by that past. Better than any other, they represent, visibly, the conspicuous wealth of the people. Around the world, experience has shown that from the very poorest to the very richest of peoples, their first priority in the acquisition of wealth is the house. And the houses of the richest are invariably more durable.
For such a comparatively compact country, Bangladesh has a considerable collection of the stately residences of masters and merchants. A clear indication of the great wealth generated, and retained, at least in large measure, within the lands.
In 1947, the local administration of the lands that are now Bangladesh was undertaken by about 150 jaminders. A role originally established, about 400 years earlier, under Mughal rule; the word derives, unsurprisingly, from the Persian language that was the Mughal’s native tongue, and means, literally, land holder.
The principal holders of territory, under, first the Mughal rulers and then the British (somehow, many Bangladeshis, in resenting the rule of the interloper British seem to forget that in the 16th century, the Mughal’s too were just as much interlopers and conquerors) collected rents and taxes due, for the national administration.
From the 1793 Act of Permanent Settlement, under British rule, the income remitted to government by these “land holders,” was fixed. They were entitled to retain a percentage of what they collected, and to benefit from surpluses.
The result, very rapidly, was that the expectation of the financial world of the security of wealth of the land holders were funds made readily available as loans perceived to be very secure, by bankers to those who obtained at auction the jamindari rights, to construct their homes.
Specialists have located, and recorded, some 120 such palatial homes within Bangladesh.
In fact, the first recorded palace, that of the Ilyas Shahi Dynasty of rulers, in Sonargoan, vividly described in the early 15th century report of the visit by the Chinese Admiral, Zheng He, to the Sultan, in glowing terms, has now vanished. But other four- or five-hundred-year-old palaces remain, such as that at the Natore home of the family of Rani Bhabani. It, although ruined, gives some idea of the magnificence of Mughal period aristocratic residences. The palace of the same family, the ruins of which stand at Bhabanipur, near Bogra, offer a similar impression.
However, what is left of the Bara Katra Palace in Old Dhaka, and, even more impressively, today, both the residence of the Governor of Lalbagh Fort in Dhaka, and, even more so, Shah Suja’s guesthouse at Chapai Nawabganj, give us some idea of the beauty and magnificence of noble residences of the pre-British period.
Without doubt, however, it is the palaces built in the British period (seldom, in fact, occupied by the British rulers) that bear the clearest testimony to the enormous wealth that continued to be farmed within the lands of Bangladesh throughout the British period of rule.
The United Kingdom, itself, may well be rich in such lavish homes, constructed by investments in “sugar, slavery and speculation,” but it is worth recalling that there was also much sugar produced in Bangladesh.
About a third of the slaves bought from the Arab traders who, for the most part actually captured or bought the slaves within Africa, were paid for in cotton from India, and especially from Bangladesh; and that such as the gaining of Diwani rights in the lands in and around Bangladesh was one of the earliest forms of speculation, with all its attendant risks. The wealth generated by the growing of opium was nowhere more successfully harvested than in Bangladesh, but the potential of Indigo and cotton was shared with the developing colonies and states of America.
But that sufficient wealth remained in these lands of Bangladesh throughout the period of British rule, and afterwards, is evidenced, first and foremost, perhaps, by these palatial residences. That it continued after 1947 as well, is evidenced by the lavish spending of the wealth of “East Bengal” by the governments of Pakistan on projects such as the development of nuclear weaponry, and American designed capital cities and other prestige projects.
Because it lies in the heart of Old Dhaka, and its conservation was a project undertaken by Sheik Mujibur Rahman, following independence, the so-called Pink Palace, the Ahsan Manjal, on the banks of the Buriganga, is perhaps the best known of these jaminder palaces. But, in fact, although the number seems to be rapidly diminishing, Dhaka itself might well once be called the City of Palaces.
Ruplal Palace may well be amongst the semi ruinous best of these homes of wealthy merchants and rulers. And Rose Garden, built as recently as the 1920s, may well be the best conserved of such buildings of a great tradition. However, across the nation are littered the impressive remains of an almost unparalleled past, concentrated in such a relatively small geographical area it is questionable if even the great imperial nations like Britain and France could match that concentration.
Without doubt, the early twentieth century, post 1897 earthquake rebuilt, Tajhat palace in Rangpur is also amongst the best, with its elegant, oriental classical design. The neo-classical Puthia palace, near Rajshahi, is also in a reasonably impressive state of presentation.
There are many styles visible in these many masterpieces, the neo-classical, often with an oriental twist, amongst the most popular. But such as the wonderful complex of buildings in Tangail’s Brindaban Chandra Bigroho, at Nagarpur, clearly owe much to a more conventional Indian tradition.
The wonderful, early nineteenth century masterpiece of Teota palace, close to the confluence of Jamuna and Padma rivers in Manikganj, associated with Lalon Shah, is a great melange of styles, with the added attraction of a more or less intact barn of considerable proportions, not to mention the “art deco” Navaratna temple.
And no visitor to Manikganj can afford to fail to visit another neo-classical masterpiece, the Balliati Palace.
Conspicuous affluence, that, in many cases, combined with considerable real estate investment close to the heart of Government in Calcutta, represents but a small proportion, albeit an enduring representation, of the enormous wealth engendered in Bangladesh, over the centuries.
Dubalhati Palace, near Noagaon is amongst the most magnificent ruins imaginable, with a facade that looks rather like a colonnaded and brickwork version of London’s Buckingham Palace; it even appears to have a royal crest surmounted upon it!
In Pabna, Sitlai Palace, on the banks of the Padma river, is more reminiscent of a William and Mary period British style, whilst nearby Tarish Palace, like none too distant Puthia, is unapologetically, clearly, neo-classical.
The style adopted for Sitlai, is, of course, reminiscent of that early twentieth century masterpiece, Dhaka’s Curzon Hall. It is sometimes speculated that it was – like the nearby, very palatial, oriental neo-classical masterpiece, the Supreme Court – originally intended to be an official residence, rather than the more utilitarian use to which both are now put.
Heminagar Palace, close to the banks of the great Jamuna, north of Tangail, is, perhaps, amongst my own favourites, not least because it has, perhaps, one of the most fabulous of mosaic porticos, a positive gem box that studs this late 19th century beauty, and, to me, is probably the most conspicuously evocative statement of wealth and power.
Such palaces may well be viewed as the evidence of wealth extorted from craftsmen, farmers and, in the end, common labourers, but may also be reasonably viewed as enduring evidence of the wealth created by their labour, no matter how much misused.
They are also, of course, enduring evidence of the real craft skills of such working men and women. Above all, perhaps, their conservation, if not restoration, and effective presentation, represent one of the best opportunities to turn such evidence of the affluent past into both jobs and income for today’s, and future generations, of ordinary, working, Bangladeshis.
