I’m on the outskirts of NOIDA, a planned city in New Delhi’s National Capital Region, and I’m lost. The uncharacteristically bright April sun is beating down on me, Google maps keeps rerouting, and it looks like I chose the wrong day to wear heels. Around me are wide, solitary roads, farmland, roaming cattle, and jarring glass office buildings that appear out of place in this landscape. After half an hour's worth of directions from the Noida Electronic City metro station, I finally reach the Indian Institute of Heritage. A majestic stone structure, this arts building is a welcome sight in the midst of engineering colleges, multinational corporations’ headquarters, and bank offices. The institute’s relocation is proof that New Delhi’s culture has trickled outwards to NOIDA. Proof that even as new urban spaces are produced, they will eventually house at least one arts campus.

The journey all the way from New Delhi, however, has been a slog. Till a few years ago, the campus was more centrally located in Janpath, a neighbourhood in Lutyens’ Delhi, making it much more accessible for city folk. Named after British architect Edwin Lutyens (1869–1944), this geographical area boasts a concentration of India’s political elite: it comprises the 1927 Rashtrapati Bhawan, government offices, dignitaries’ residences, and even India’s National Museum. Outside the museum’s gates lie the National Archives, Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts, and the old & new Parliament Houses—to name a few. 

Until 2021, the Indian Institute of Heritage (IIH) was housed right inside the National Museum. Originally called the National Museum Institute, it was an ideal place for the study of history because of its location in the heart of the historically significant capital; it cultivated rich, lifelong careers in history since its inception in 1989. An entire ecosystem of archival studies was nurtured because of its accessible address. Theorists could connect with real life historians and conservation students learnt from the museum’s technical staff. Students were by default the first visitors to museum exhibitions: they had to walk through its galleries every day to get to class. This daily interaction with objects of historical import made their educational experience unique and holistic, enhancing the quality of the technical courses taught there. All of this changed in 2021, when the institute was separated from the National Museum and moved to Sector 62, NOIDA.

Earlier, the students at the IIH lived in Delhi, an ancient, storied city whose earliest recorded histories date back to the 8th century AD. In comparison, NOIDA is practically infantile. Short for New Okhla Industrial Development Authority, the city came into administrative existence on 17 April 1976 in the National Capital Region (NCR). This took place during Indira Gandhi’s Emergency term—a state of governance that authorised the prime minister to rule by decree. During this twenty-one-month period, all civil liberties were halted, elections were paused, Gandhi’s opponents were imprisoned, and the press was censored. In the midst of this political turmoil and inter-communal tension, NOIDA was established in the mythologically-rich region of Braj in Uttar Pradesh. Built primarily for industrial growth, infrastructural development in NOIDA began in 1976, while citizens in the rest of the country were victim to mass-sterilisation, censorship, judicial control, and deteriorating constitutional rights. Over the next fifty years, the city kept growing. Today, it houses frontrunners in tech, pharma, finance, and, most recently, full-fledged universities.

Studying history is often an afterthought to the people developing modern Indian urban landscapes. NOIDA is no exception. Cities are first built on capital and industry, followed by hospitals and residences, schools and banks, and then gradually, they house libraries, archives, and museums. While NOIDA is a new city and home to many polluting industries, it also has a budding arts education ecosystem with colleges like Shiv Nadar University, Galgotias University, and Gautam Buddha University. The brand-new Indian Institute of Heritage is an addition to NOIDA’s growing miscellany of urban institutions, many of which are an afterthought in this primarily industrial land.

As I walk through the expansive lands of NOIDA, I am forced to question why the National Museum Institute was moved out here? 

Relocation & Rebranding

Today, the National Museum Institute has officially become the Indian Institute of Heritage. Sudeshna Guha, Faculty at Shiv Nadar University’s School of Humanities and Social Sciences, spoke to me about the relocation of the campus, and the role of the politics of space and place in India’s long relationship with its National Museum. She posited that while the initial move, with its merging of the Archaeological Survey of India and the National Museum of India, was about space, the two institutions’ combined clout has now allowed the government to peddle a very specific version of Indian history.

“Politics comes in when the ASI and NMI join hands, and decide to teach the kind of Indian history they do. Earlier, the Institute of Archaeology would regularly get professors from Deccan College, Pune, and MSU, Baroda, to teach specialised courses in archaeology which the latter has developed. But now the focus is on heritage studies, and they are establishing through the courses Hindutva histories—the innately Hindu heritage of pre-colonial India.” For decades, the National Museum Institute was connected to New Delhi’s progressive academic ecosystem, its student resistance movements, and the city’s active participation in national social issues. Moving NMI to Delhi’s outskirts happened at the same time as the renaming, as well as the altering of the types of history taught there.

Creating a new university outside of New Delhi’s congestion may have been an inevitable symptom of urban development. It's hard to ignore, however, the ways the IIH’s relocation has created hindrances in students' access to educational resources.

Relocation is not the only change that has taken place since 2021. Rebranding is an extensive process, and the National Museum Institute has been rechristened as the nebulous “Indian Institute of Heritage.” As Dr Guha pointed out: “What they teach are technical courses. But what the heck will a heritage school do? Heritage doesn’t exist out there; it’s something that is created.” Wouldn’t it be better, she asked, if the institution could reflect on the practice of heritage-making? 

“The National Museum has shut its doors to researchers and the [IIH] students are not taught the importance of both historiography and materiality, which inform the many histories of a particular phenomenon, and of the many histories of a collection and an object. So how can they advance knowledge about the collections of the Museum or enhance collections management protocols? Besides, the curatorial lapses in the Museum are glaring to the visitors. Look at the displays. The object labels show the lack of research catalogues and databases.” Guha’s questions are fundamental; after all, if a technical school does not question historicity, then it will have detrimental effects on maintaining collections, databases, research catalogues, and deciding displays.

Contentment and Complacency in the National Museum’s Institutions

Seeking answers to the changes that the school has undergone, I met with administrative and faculty members of the National Museum & Indian Institute of Heritage. BR Mani, the Museum’s director general and vice chancellor of the Indian Institute of Heritage, welcomed me to an online and in-person interview. He spoke with me at length about the campus relocation, saying, “Anyone would admire the new campus as it provides better infrastructure and study facilities.” IIH is now giving out diplomas through the Institute of Archaeology and Bhopal’s Indira Gandhi Rashtriya Manav Sangrahalaya museum. Apart from this, the university has also co-opted programs with the IGNCA and National Archives, among others, and is planning to connect the academic wings of various institutions to the IIH. 

Development is what the museum’s admin wants to focus on, and not the imminent possibility of demolition. When asked about the National Museum’s rumoured demolition, BR Mani spoke about the upcoming Yug Yugeen Bharat Museum. “The Yug Yugeen Bharat museum is bound to be the biggest one in Asia yet,” he said. “With 950 rooms, all of the best artefacts from this building will be shifted there. There is work undertaken to build a North Block and South Block for the National Museum, and this present building might continue to remain if not demolished.”

With all of these positive changes, I asked him why the institution needed rebranding. “IIH is one overarching umbrella. Courses should be regulated by one authority. It is possible that in the future, with some act of parliament, it could be a full-fledged university. Professionally, I feel happy in finding better space and infrastructure at NOIDA, which was not there in the National Museum.”

Manvi Seth echoed a similar sentiment during my interview with her. Dr Seth has been affiliated with the institute, as both a student and a faculty member, since 1997. She is currently the head of the Department of Museology at the Indian Institute of Heritage. When I asked her why the word “heritage” was chosen to represent the institution, she said “...it is all encompassing. For instance, when you say culture, you mean only natural heritage. Heritage is the only all-encompassing word.” Being “all-encompassing” also gives the IIH power over an “all-encompassing” national history. 

When I visited the Noida campus, I met with some numismatics & conservation students. One art history student candidly told me, “Noida is disgusting, and there are only some other institutes and office buildings around. It’s completely deserted. There’s no reason to leave the campus because, well, there’s nothing here. Also, the National Museum library is better than the one here, but we have to travel one and a half hours just to borrow a book.” 

Other students focus on the positives: larger conservation labs, exciting heritage field trips, and the school’s reputed name. Some even go as far as likening the IIH to the IITs and IIMs of India. One student told me, “We talk about how the Indian Institute of Heritage will keep growing, and hopefully become like the IITs and IIMs of India.” The Indian Institutes of Technology and Indian Institutes of Management are galaxies of their own, orbiting modern India’s dreams of national progress and development. Highly coveted by most of India’s population, these competitive technical schools have campuses all over the country, offering students an incomparable asset: respect. Attempting to create a similar ethos for the IIH, however, is jarring. It seems as though students and administration alike are prioritising optics first and education second. Perhaps that is why questioning historicity becomes secondary to being part of a consolidated, proud, national endeavour. The latter is a pressing priority and very often controls the kind of history we study and the narratives we wish to follow.

This student’s ambitious hope mirrored Dr BR Mani’s response to my question regarding the institute’s relocation, “There were positives and negatives to the situation as the Institute was not getting expanded and remained in a confined location” they said. “Now, it has its own infrastructure and entity to expand and coordinate with other departments of the Ministry of Culture.” It’s ironic that connection and expansion is reliant on a place surrounded by barren land, bank headquarters, and only one metro station in sight. All other departments of the Ministry of Culture are still in Lutyens Delhi.

Controversies around History, Culture, Heritage, and Urban Development

Lutyens Delhi, where the National Museum resides, is where the heart of India’s cultural pulse thrives. Studying there is ideal for students of art, history, heritage, and culture—unlike the corporate glass and concrete buildings that are peppered around NOIDA. 

One alum of the erstwhile NMI, art historian and scholar Gaurav Kumar told me, “The location of the National Museum Institute within the National Museum itself and amidst the vibrant art scene of Janpath was highly impactful during my time as a student. As an art student, it provided easy access to numerous important institutions such as the Triveni Kala Sangam cultural centre, AIFACS Gallery (All India Fine Arts and Crafts Society), National Gallery of Modern Art, and more, enriching my learning experience through exposure to diverse artistic expressions.” He went on, “Additionally, being near cultural landmarks, like the 100-year old India Gate, 16th century Purana Qila, and Lodhi Gardens, further enhanced the immersive environment for exploration and study.”

Analysing the Indian Institute of Heritage’s displacement and development is an indication of how selective a national history can be. It’s important to recognise that this has occurred against the larger, terrifying backdrop of Hindutva nationalism—a political ideology that prides in Hindu histories while erasing other religious narratives. Union Culture Minister G Kishan Reddy wrote in parliament that “the [IIH] will be a “world-class university” that will focus on the conservation and research in India's rich tangible heritage, while offering research, development and dissemination of knowledge, excellence in the education of its students and activities associated with heritage that contribute to the cultural, scientific, and economic life of India.” But what about our shameful past and present, and all that is not tangible and glorious? According to historian Dipesh Chakrabarty, “heritage means acknowledging both our ‘successes’ and our ‘failures.’” This acknowledgement is lacking in Minister Reddy’s statement.

Any acknowledgement of “failures” in our history is being shunned, as the Indian government increases their monopoly over historical records. In 2015, the Murty Classical Library, which features English translations of some of the greatest works of Indian literature, was the victim of Hindutva censorship. American scholar Sheldon Pollock was forcefully ousted from the MCL after he signed two statements condemning government action against Delhi University’s Jawaharlal Nehru University, and senior editorial members were dismissed as well. Elsewhere in the country, Amritsar’s Jallianwalla Bagh was entirely remodelled. In 1919, British General Dwyer mercilessly massacred 1,000 Indians there, and since then, it has stood as a symbol of India’s independence struggle. Recently, however, the government covered up century-old bullet holes and injected the site with cosmetic changes, turning it into a tasteless exhibition of honour. Its walls have been replaced with scriptures and the “martyr’s well” has been enclosed with a glass shield. 

Back in New Delhi, it seems like the BJP-run government is rushing to rewrite India’s story with the Central Vista redevelopment project. Launched in 2019, the project is well underway. The government is revamping the Central Vista, India's central administrative area located near Raisina Hill, New Delhi. Their reason is “to house all facilities needed for efficient functioning of the Government”. This project involves hollowing out or demolishing the current National Museum and moving its collections to the Rashtrapati Bhavan’s North and South Blocks. The upcoming Yug Yugeen Bharat will be the “largest museum in Asia,” as Prime Minister Modi declared during the G20 event in New Delhi. Astha Rajvanshi wrote for TIME Magazine about the new parliament, “the whole project—which began in the middle of a brutal second wave of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2021—has been met with widespread criticism for its cost, environmental damage, and disregard for heritage buildings.”

Prem Chandavarkar addressed the effects of these changes for The Wire, “The redevelopment removes public institutions that sustain culture and heritage from the Central Vista, replacing them with government offices and facilities…Many citizens have expressed anguish over how the spatial heart of our democracy is being transformed from a public landscape energised by cultural institutions to become a space dominated by the visual spectacle of governmental bureaucracy.” Even the National Archives was to be demolished until a furore erupted against breaking down Grade-I heritage structures. Now the plan has been modified to break down only the annexe, with no clear reason as to why.

Chandavarkar explained concerns regarding having the old parliament’s North and South Blocks co-opt the current National Museum. First, official records state that these plots of land are still termed as “Government Use”, while they need to be deemed as “Public/Semi-Public”—the basic requirement for a citizen’s museum. Second, no feasibility study was conducted to figure out whether the two blocks are workable sites for a national museum. Third, this location’s proximity to the Prime Minister’s Office and the Vice-President’s Residence implies that security audits are needed, especially if it will be open to the public. No such study has surfaced to date.

The IIH has been displaced to the city's outskirts, away from the country's social and political milieu, amidst a time of unprecedented censorship and a wilful subversion of history and heritage. While the Indian Institute of Heritage’s faculty members assured me that they have never faced pressure from the Ministry of Culture or any member of parliament to teach a particular history, throughout the country, history is being weaponised to bring another term of Hindutva regime to power. 

How can a historical institution not address this development? Given the current cultural milieu, any museum that does not explicitly reject the ongoing oppression of minorities, is implicitly adding to it.

The Trickle Down Effect 

Inside the National Museum, displays of ancient sculptures are poorly exhibited, insufficiently labelled, and even found in the building’s basement and parking lot areas—unlikely spaces of conservation. While the National Museum suffers, Modi’s Hindutva-led government has promised to create an “international museum” at the newly consecrated Ram Mandir in Ayodhya. This will include “new-age technology like kinetic art, holograms, animatronics, and augmented artificial reality to provide a live experience of the Ramayana and the Ram Temple movement,” Sreeparna Chakrabarty told The Hindu. The Ram Mandir Museum project reinforces the right-wing, Hindutva narrative that we all come from one singular religion and history. Built on the desecrated Babri Masjid, the Ram Mandir site has been long contested between Hindus and Muslims.

Other historical suppressions have been witnessed around the country as well. When an ancient civilisation (dating back to the 6th century BCE) called Keezhadi was discovered in Tamil Nadu, it was covered widely in the press. Ten years on, news of that archaeological site is missing from mainstream media. Sowmiya Ashok believes this to be a consequence of the fact that the Keezhadi discovery disproves the right-wing, nationalist notion that Vedic culture is fundamental to the origins of Indian civilisation. Keezhadi’s excavations point to early signs of language and the possibility of a Dravidian origin story for Indians. Ashok notes that “in popular media, the findings are likely to be reduced to the question of whether the Keeladi people were more like Aryans, the protagonists of Vedic civilisation, or Dravidians, the forebears of Tamil culture.” 

Last year, news broke that the National Council of Educational Research and Training (NCERT) textbooks have now erased all traces of Mughal history in India. Even though Mughal histories are now obliterated, subaltern and Dalit histories have never even been part of the discourse. Vidhi Doshi explains how Indian Dalits are sidelined from academia, and have resorted to archiving their own community’s history, “[Vijay Surwade’s] collection includes everything from documents and photos to Ambedkar's broken spectacles and dentures, all housed in shoe boxes and concertina files in Surwade's apartment in the western city of Kalyan, about 45 km northeast of Mumbai. It is among a number of informal archives collected by ordinary Dalit people who say their stories otherwise risk being lost, undermining their cultures and the fight against caste-based discrimination.” Grand buildings and palaces are being turned into proud markers of our heritage; light and sound shows will create carnivals out of them. There are other ways, however, in which we honour our living history. A derivative of heritage is inheritance—passed down generation after generation.

Preserving History, Defining Heritage

I think about the histories I have inherited on my walk back to the metro station from the IIH Noida campus at 2 pm. I cannot wait to curl up in an air-conditioned train back to New Delhi and stroll around Janpath. 

My patience is rewarded. 

In Lutyens Delhi, I am surrounded by overwhelming history—stone structures, Mughal architecture, multiple languages, with gardens everywhere. Inside the National Museum, an open verandah and cafe become a picnic spot for families, couples, and even stray dogs. Today is Eid, and people have come in their best attire, sharing meals and spending the day together. We bask in this glorious heritage until the time we will all return to our decidedly less glorious lives once these gates close.

The miserable heat, the stares from men, the station-side chole bhature, the broken, Brahmin Tamil I speak with my family, and the accented Hindi I employ in North India. All that seems intangible yet integrated into everyday life: food, language, patriarchy, and casteism. It is a messy, flawed heritage, one that stands proof of violence and oppression. It is also the heritage that we do not see inside these institutions. It is not covered at the Indian Institute of Heritage.

As I step into the older, less affluent neighbourhoods of Chandni Chowk and Nizamuddin Dargah, I see people in ancient, crumbling buildings, eating and working and praying in structures that are on the verge of collapse. My immediate thought is an urban, privileged one: why can’t these buildings be cosmetically preserved? Of course, the fear of turning into what Jallianwalla Bagh’s remodelling became—a tasteless performance of honour more concerned with vanity than the Indian freedom struggle—is always lurking at the horizon of heritage conservation projects. But these buildings do not carry the traumatic weight that Jalliwanwalla Bagh does; they could be architectural representations of our everyday heritage. 

Dr Mrinalini Saha reminds me, however, that “one person’s heritage is another person’s livelihood. Delhi is littered with ancient monuments. Preserving them, sprucing them up is one thing, but it also means dislocating the people who live there.”

I meander between New Delhi’s Outer Ring Road and Inner Ring Road in a crackling autorickshaw, passing through parts of the Red Fort that was built by Shah Jahan in 1639. Living heritage. 

When I met Dr Manvi Seth, she gave me a handful of books and pamphlets published by the Indian Institute of Heritage. A teacher’s handbook to History, Museum Goes to Hospital, Gandhi Hai Sabke Liye (Gandhi is for Everyone), Museum Safari for Lucknow’s State Museum etc. The institution’s efforts to spread historical awareness are impressive, yet, I cannot help but see this for the sanitised narrative that it is. Where are the Dalit histories, the tribal histories, the feminist histories? And what about the academic strain that argues that Gandhi is in fact not for everybody?

In Old Delhi, I travel past dug-up roads and sewage, a reminder of how caste is ubiquitous even in big cities. Most manual scavengers and construction workers come from disenfranchised castes and communities and make up a major part of India’s migrant workers. Later in the evening, I go through Vasant Vihar in South Delhi which houses the infamous “Coolie Camp” slum, which was hidden behind giant green curtains while India hosted the G20. Is this failure of our nation-state not part of our heritage? Dr Chakrabarty said it perfectly, “It is when you feel insecure about your past that you produce a one-sided version of it. To present the past as a site of disputation takes a greater sense of security about one’s own collective sense of self. But if you think this representation will threaten the sovereignty of the nation, then representing the past becomes a matter of either/or choices. It’s either Shivaji or Aurangzeb, Ram Mandir or Babri Masjid.”∎