The Mandir Goes Viral
The Mughal Era Mandir project, a social media initiative, hopes to conserve Delhi’s heritage and cosmopolitanism
Curious for a lesserknown slice of Delhi history, historian Rana Safvi and author Sam Dalrymple recently visited the Charan Das ki Baghichi temple. Built by Mughal emperor Muhammad Shah Rangeela (1702-1748), the temple’s existence is a story of the religious cross-pollination that has impacted much of North Indian culture. Local legend states that the Mughal was himself a devotee of the Hindu saint Charan Das—a bhakti ascetic who was believed to be an avatar of Lord Krishna.
Upon their arrival to this intricately-crafted mandir, however, Safvi and Dalrymple were greeted by an unwelcome surprise. In the name of renovation, someone was painting over the temple’s Vaishnav frescoes, modifying a piece of the city’s artistic and historical heritage with a few casual brushstrokes.
Having seen the original frescoes four years ago, Safvi mentioned in a recent interview her desire to bring to light the conditions in which the city’s heritage was not being conserved—and the desperate need to do so. “I found this tragic,” Dalrymple says, discussing the origin of the ‘Mughal Era Mandir’ photo-project that Safvi and he launched on their social media accounts. “These were the most gorgeous frescoes… and we were losing a bit of Delhi’s Hindu heritage.”
Between the rough outlines of New and Old Delhi, the capital of our present-day democracy can also feel like a breathing museum of centuriesold kingdoms. Safvi, in a number of her texts and scholarly work, has closely chronicled the city’s history and heritage. She and Dalrymple circled two more Sundays on their calendar to rediscover more temples from the time of Muhammad Shah and other Mughal leaders. The initiative took them through the labyrinthine gullies of the old city, to Shivalayas in Katra Neel, the epicentre of Shahjahanbad’s Shaivite community, to the “Urdu Mandir”, a Jain temple—built in Chandni Chowk in Shah Jahan’s time—and so many more. “I simply wasn’t aware that there were over a hundred such historic mandirs in Delhi,” says Dalrymple.
Soon, there was yet another twist to the tale, as the national conversation about mandirs and masjids took a sharp, toxic turn. At the Gyanvapi mosque complex in Varanasi, it was a familiar story retold: a shrine in dispute, a mosque in danger.
Over the next few days, Safvi and Dalrymple began to post their stories of the Mughal Era Mandirs on their Instagram accounts as a way to shine a light on the complexities of Indian history, a way to challenge the divisive political dichotomies of our times. The posts went viral, receiving some backlash; but mostly, they opened a treasure trove of conversation among historians and devotees alike.
“I think it’s very easy in politics, across the world, where every side of the political spectrum reduces the past to a very simplistic narrative,” says Dalrymple. “But history is complicated, and these mandirs are evidence of that. It’s good to know where you come from—because it can inform you about your future.” ■