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Feb 27, 2026
Siddhartha Dave

Decolonising the Mind, Reclaiming the Republic: Why Rajaji Replacing Lutyens at Rashtrapati Bhavan Matters

History is not merely about preserving stones and statues; it is about deciding whose memory shapes the nation’s future. The recent decision to replace the bust of British architect Sir Edwin Lutyens at Rashtrapati Bhavan with that of Chakravarti Rajagopalachari — Bharat’s first Indian Governor-General — marks far more than a symbolic change. It represents a conscious step in Bharat’s ongoing civilisational decolonisation, a process aimed at reclaiming national self-confidence after centuries of foreign rule. For decades after Independence, colonial symbols continued to dominate the spaces of power. Now, as the Government of Bharat moves toward shedding what Prime Minister Narendra Modi calls the “mentality of slavery,” the replacement of Lutyens with Rajaji stands as a powerful declaration that the Republic’s institutions must reflect Bhartiya values, not imperial nostalgia. Decolonisation: A Necessary Civilisational Correction The unveiling of Rajagopalachari’s bust by President Droupadi Murmu is part of a broader initiative to remove vestiges of colonial influence and re-centre Bharat’s own civilisational icons. During the ceremony, the President described Rajaji as an exemplar of “mental decolonisation,” recalling how he placed portraits of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and Mahatma Gandhi in Government House soon after assuming office — a gesture that symbolised Swaraj not only politically but spiritually. ([The Indian Express][1]) This moment is not an isolated event. Over the past few years, several changes at Rashtrapati Bhavan and within the national capital have reflected an effort to reshape the architecture of power in line with Bharat’s cultural identity. The government has emphasised that these steps aim to honour national heroes while moving beyond colonial-era symbolism that continued long after 1947. ([The Times][2]) Critics often dismiss such measures as merely symbolic, but symbolism has always played a central role in imperial governance. Colonial regimes used architecture, names and statues to project authority; decolonisation requires reinterpreting those same spaces through an indigenous lens. Why Lutyens Became a Symbol of Colonial Mindset Sir Edwin Lutyens remains widely recognised as the principal architect of New Delhi’s imperial capital. Buildings such as the Viceroy’s House (now Rashtrapati Bhavan), India Gate and the grand administrative axis were designed to reflect the power of the British Empire at its zenith. ([The Times][2]) However, historical records also reveal that Lutyens carried deeply prejudiced views about Indians. His private correspondence includes remarks describing Indians as intellectually inferior and opposing racial mixing — statements that reflected the broader racial hierarchy embedded within colonial ideology. Such views were not incidental; they formed part of a worldview that saw the imperial project as a civilising mission. His architectural philosophy mirrored this mentality. Lutyens often dismissed indigenous styles as inferior and positioned European classicism as the embodiment of order and authority. The urban plan of New Delhi — with wide boulevards, rigid zoning and spatial separation between imperial enclaves and native quarters — symbolised a hierarchy in which colonial power physically dominated the landscape. While some defenders argue that Lutyens incorporated Indian motifs into his buildings, the deeper question is not aesthetic but ideological: should the Republic continue to celebrate figures who designed its capital as a monument to imperial supremacy? The current government’s answer appears clear — colonial architecture may remain as a historical legacy, but its symbolic centre must shift toward national heroes. Rajaji: The Face of a Decolonised Republic Chakravarti Rajagopalachari represents a very different vision of governance. As the first and only Indian Governor-General after Independence, he embodied the transition from imperial authority to national self-rule. His decision to introduce spiritual and nationalist imagery into Government House signalled that Bharat had reclaimed not only political sovereignty but also civilisational confidence. Replacing Lutyens’ bust with Rajaji is therefore not an act of erasure but a rebalancing of historical memory. The Rashtrapati Bhavan, once built to house a colonial Viceroy, now reflects the journey of a nation that has moved from subjugation to self-definition. Prime Minister Modi noted that even decades after Independence, statues of colonial figures remained in the presidential estate while many national icons were denied space — a reality the government seeks to correct. ([India Today][3]) The Wider Transformation Inside Rashtrapati Bhavan The change is part of a broader cultural reorientation taking place within the presidential complex. The Granth Kutir library now houses thousands of texts in classical Indian languages, replacing colonial-era works with literature rooted in the Vedas, Puranas and indigenous intellectual traditions. Portraits of British-era aides have been replaced with images of Param Vir Chakra awardees, emphasising Bharat’s martial honour and sacrifice. Even the naming of ceremonial spaces reflects this transformation. Durbar Hall and Ashok Hall have not merely been renamed but corrected as Ganatantra Mandap and Ashok Mandap, aligning terminology with the ethos of a sovereign republic rather than imperial court culture. Similarly, the Mughal Gardens were re-envisioned as Amrit Udyan, symbolising a civilisational continuity that transcends colonial categorisation. These changes collectively reinforce the idea that decolonisation is not about destroying history but about reclaiming narrative authority. Architecture, Power and Psychological Liberation Decolonisation operates not only at the level of policy but also within the national psyche. Colonial architecture was designed to project permanence and superiority, embedding a sense of inferiority among the colonised. Even after Independence, the continued dominance of imperial symbols contributed to what many thinkers describe as a lingering colonial mindset. By repositioning figures like Rajagopalachari at the heart of Rashtrapati Bhavan, the state seeks to reshape this psychological landscape. It signals that the Republic honours those who fought for self-rule rather than those who represented imperial authority. The reaction from some Western commentators and descendants of Lutyens — who described the removal as “sad” — reflects a familiar debate over heritage versus sovereignty. ([The Times of India][4]) But for many in Bharat, the issue is not about denying architectural history; it is about ensuring that the symbols of power reflect indigenous dignity rather than colonial nostalgia. The Need for Decolonisation in the 21st Century Why does decolonisation matter today, nearly eight decades after Independence? The answer lies in the persistence of colonial frameworks within education, culture and governance. For years, the English-speaking elite of Lutyens’ Delhi symbolised a postcolonial establishment that remained culturally disconnected from the broader civilisational ethos of Bharat. The current drive aims to replace that inherited worldview with a more confident national identity. From renaming Rajpath as Kartavya Path to redesigning parliamentary spaces, the government has sought to emphasise duty, heritage and civilisational continuity. Supporters argue that such steps restore historical balance, while critics view them through ideological lenses. Yet history shows that every newly independent nation undertakes a process of symbolic renewal — whether through language reforms, architectural reinterpretations or commemorative changes. Decolonisation as a Civilisational Awakening The replacement of Edwin Lutyens’ bust with that of C. Rajagopalachari is therefore more than an administrative decision. It represents a deeper shift in how Bharat sees itself — no longer as a former colony preserving imperial memory, but as an ancient civilisation reclaiming its narrative. Rajaji’s presence at Rashtrapati Bhavan reminds citizens that Swaraj is not merely a political milestone achieved in 1947; it is an ongoing journey toward mental and cultural independence. As President Murmu noted, such steps aim to shed the vestiges of colonial thinking and embrace the richness of India’s heritage with pride. ([ndtv.com][5]) In the end, decolonisation is not about rejecting history but about reclaiming agency. The buildings of Lutyens’ Delhi may remain as architectural landmarks, but the Republic has chosen to place its own heroes at the centre of its story. And in that choice lies the essence of a nation finally confident enough to define itself on its own civilisational terms. References [1] https://indianexpress.com/article/india/president-droupadi-murmu-rajaji-mental-decolonisation-10547946/? "President unveils Rajaji’s bust: ‘Set example of mental decolonisation’" [2] https://www.thetimes.com/uk/history/article/edwin-lutyens-statue-india-modi-2l3jnhbw0?utm "India disowns Sir Edwin Lutyens' bust in 'decolonisation' drive" [3] https://www.indiatoday.in/india/story/pm-modi-said-that-c-rajagopalchari-will-replace-luteyns-statue-in-rashtrapati-bhavan-2872547-2026-02-22?utm "C Rajagopalachari will replace architect Lutyens’ statue in Rashtrapati Bhavan: PM - India Today" [4] https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/uk/great-grandson-of-edwin-lutyens-in-the-uk-criticises-removal-of-lutyens-bust-from-rashtrapati-bhavan/articleshow/128761558.cms?utm_source "Great-grandson of Edwin Lutyens in the UK criticises removal of Lutyens' bust from Rashtrapati Bhavan" [5] https://www.ndtv.com/india-news/edwin-lutyens-bust-replaced-with-c-rajagopalachari-bust-at-rashtrapati-bhavan-in-india-decolonisation-move-11125184?utm_ "Edwin Lutyens Bust Replaced With C Rajagopalachari Bust At Rashtrapati Bhavan In India Decolonisation Move"

Feb 26, 2026
Dr. Nidhi Shendurnikar

Shatak (शतक): Glory, Trials and Tribulations of the RSS over a 100 years

Before India’s cultural, political, social and governance landscape underwent a sea transformation in 2014; a movie on the life and works of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) seemed like a far-fetched reality, a distant dream. Every patriotic Indian deserves to deep dive into the story of how this organisation committed to selfless, voluntary national service was conceived and nurtured. However, owing to the totalitarian tendencies of one party, a single dispensation, left-leaning ideological ecosystem in academia, media and popular culture, the RSS has relentlessly been subjected to harsh, one-sided, vicious propaganda with respect to its roots, principles, foundation and activities. The movie, Shatak, released on February 20, is a perfect response to naysayers who unfailingly find an excuse to blame the organisation for any and every untoward, undesirable event/situation in Bharat. Beginning with Ajay Devgn’s voice in the background, the film is a narrative immersion in the history, evolution and contribution of the RSS in pre and post-independent Bharat. The story focuses primarily on how the idea of an overarching, pan-India organisation for Hindu unity and national service was thought and executed with sheer commitment, dedication and perseverance against all odds. The viewer is introduced to Keshav Baliram Hedgewar (fondly referred to as ‘Doctor ji’) and his fierce, unwavering love for the motherland as a child, which led him to question Bharat’s colonial subjugation by the British. Refusing to chant glory to the Queen of England as a young school-going kid, inspired by his Guru -- B. S. Moonje, the seeds of rebellion are visible in ‘Doctor ji’. Driven by a zeal to fight for the country’s freedom and reeling under personal loss, Doctor ji set out to build the world’s largest voluntary group of individuals known for its discipline, organisational prowess and execution skillfulness. Shatak is an important lesson in history, politics, society, culture and philosophy; all in under two hours of screen time. It brings a linear cinematic experience with simple and chronological storytelling in a documentary movie format to help viewers appreciate the character and depth of the main protagonist - the Sangh. Indian cinema has churned out scores of films on political and public personalities. But Shatak is a first-of-its-kind attempt to sketch the biography of an organisation whose impact on Indian polity and society remains a matter of intense discussion and debate. Attempting to bring the Sangh’s journey onto screen is in itself a bold, reassuring step, given the kind of cancel culture that prevails among left intelligentsia out to dismiss anything that doesn’t fit their warped ideological schemata. The film takes us through major milestones in Sangh’s life – its founding principle of ‘व्यक्ति निर्माण से राष्ट्र निर्माण’, challenges faced in organisational setup and expansion, Hindu apathy towards a united, consolidated cultural force, leadership and vision, initial bonhomie with the Indian National Congress and endeavours to position itself as an instrument for cultural resurgence among Hindus. The film’s plot moves from one important event in Sangh’s life to another, sensitising the viewer about the ground force that is RSS’s strength even to this day. Madhav Sadashivrao Golwalkar’s (Guruji) ascendance to the position of Sarsanghchalak is the most interesting point of the film, demonstrating responsibility, leadership and legacy as one of the building blocks of the organisation’s success. The film also traces Sangh’s troubled relationship with the Congress party and its leadership back in those times until the Emergency (1975), ideological tensions and differences on fundamental issues related to governance, citizenship, secular ideals, civilisational unity, accusations of Gandhi’s assassination and consequent absolution and the concept of Hindu Rashtra. One can critique RSS’s worldview, yet anyone watching it cannot resist from admiring the extent of grassroots work that the organisation has achieved in the hinterlands of India, resting purely on collective will and nationalistic fervour. Cinematically, though the film does leave much scope for a more engaging, interesting and compelling story with characters from the RSS’s fold who could have possibly left a deep and lasting impact on the hearts and minds of the audience. This is not a conventional filmmaking attempt, but rather an earnest effort to talk about an idea (RSS -- एक विचार है) which has always found itself being maligned, misunderstood and deliberately silenced. The use of AI throughout the film is novel and surprising, but it lessens the overall emotional impact of the narrative. Real characters with a human interface are still at the core of any creative attempt. Shatak misses the mark by relying heavily on technology for expression that ought to stir human consciousness. Purely from a film-making point of view, there is so much more that civilisational stories ought to do if cinegoers are to be kept interested, involved and thoughtful about issues that matter to Bharat. Critics may argue that this is a one-sided glorification attempt of a movement, of an organisation that they believe is responsible for communal division and hatred in India. But in fact, this is what the film tries to deftly counter. Post 1947, RSS indeed became a scapegoat for ulterior political motives to be achieved by varying political factions in India. The will and resolve of the Sangh, however, stood tall as it never ceased to strive for national interest (the ban on RSS, vindictive nature of the Congress dispensation is a striking example). Any movement with such a long history is bound to have its share of highs and lows. Shatak’s narrative could do better justice to the layers and complexities of such an organisational mechanism that people hold in reverence even today. Shatak should be watched as an educative attempt, as a story that ought to be told, as a movement that, despite its shortcomings, remains significant to Hindu identity, interests and endurance of India’s civilisational narrative. The film is a one-time watch with a clarion call for substantive intellectual engagement on the RSS’s history and present state.

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