Opinion: What's Common Between The Bayeux Tapestry And Vrindavan Vastra?

Got Question about the News? Among the many thousands who have already bought tickets to see the famous Bayeux Tapestry — 'brought back" after long-drawn discussions with France — at the British Museum during the next nine months must be Indians, both local and tourists. And at least a few of them will presumably have the same thought as they look at the 950-year-old, 230 ft long cloth depicting the events during the pivotal Norman Conquest of Britain in the 11th century: Pabuji ki Phad. The colourfully painted or embroidered lengths of cloth depicting the adventures of a heroic 14th-century Hindu folk deity who saves cows and womenfolk, form the backdrop to pastoral bards or bhopas singing his paeans across rural Rajasthan. While phads and the bardic narrations are mostly religious and the Bayeux tapestry ostensibly refers to a 'secular" historical occurrence, the intrinsic resemblance is undeniable: both are heroic stories on a length of cloth. Interestingly, another Bayeux Tapestry-like cloth will travel to India in 2027 from the British Museum: the 350-year-old Vrindavani Vastra, woven in Assam, contains scenes from Lord Krishna's life on silk strips, as told by the scholar-saint Srimanta Sankardeva. But it is coming only on loan to Assam, not Ghar Wapsi. It will be on show at the State Museum in Guwahati for six months, the maximum time the cloth is displayed every decade because of its extreme fragility. Said to be the oldest extant artwork to feature the Assamese language, it deserves to return to its place of origin, especially as Sankaradeva is much revered in Assam and the journey of the strips of silk cloth to Britain and the British Museum is a 'complicated" one. Created possibly for a satra (Vaishnavite spiritual centre) in the 16th century, it apparently eventually landed in Tibet via monks. Sewed together and mounted on brocade, it stayed at the monastery there till 1904. And then? The same old story: the British carted it off. Sir Francis Younghusband arrived in Tibet on a 'military expedition" to 'negotiate" a 'trade deal" in 1903-04 with the 13th Dalai Lama. The Tibetan monks were ill-equipped to resist. British troops carried away hundreds of scrolls, statues and manuscripts. A journalist on that expedition, Perceval Landon, also grabbed some mementos including the Vrindavani Vastra, which he then 'gave" to the British Museum in 1905. That story would sound familiar to Greek visitors visiting the British Museum regarding the 'Elgin Marbles". The sections of the Parthenon were carted off to Blighty by that aristocrat, to be bought by the British government later for a song (£35,000) and placed in the British Museum in 1816. Indians would agree with Greece's argument that the British imperialists' cavalier 'finders' keepers" philosophy was nothing but thievery and the UK needs to make amends. But while creating an unprecedented hoopla over this supposedly British-made 'tapestry' — technically a misnomer as it is not woven but embroidered with woollen yarn on linen—that the victorious French had kept for a millennium, the British Museum has stayed mum on all the treasures from around the world that it retains, claiming a law prevents their repatriation. Yet it was willing to tot up £800 million in insurance cover just to get a tapestry to the UK for nine months. This sum (equivalent to about $1 billion) is the largest such single-object indemnity ever for the British Museum, and central government taxpayers are carrying the contingent liability through the Government Indemnity Scheme. This apparently saves the museum millions that commercial insurance rates would have charged for such a priceless artefact. The deal, including insurance, was struck in the teeth of opposition on both sides from the antiquities world. It is nearly impossible to affix a price—even an insurance value—to objects like the Bayeux Tapestry. But somehow, even in its current state, the UK managed to do so and the French agreed. Moreover, it was initially judged to be too fragile and precious to be transported anywhere. But it set interesting precedents: the delicate cloth crossed the Channel safely and been insured too, and is therefore no longer 'priceless". The natural question would be, 'Who or what will be next?" What's sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander, to repeat a hoary English proverb. But the British Museum director Nicholas Cullinan's policy is apparently to negotiate exchanges on the principle of 'partnership rather than ownership". Ergo, his museum will keep its 'collections"—the invaluable heritage of other countries that Britain amassed thanks to its imperial past—and only loan them out. And some objects have never left the museum once 'acquired". A case in point is the 2,200-year-old Rosetta Stone (whose discovery led to the deciphering of the Egyptian hieroglyphs) which was taken away after British forces defeated the French in Egypt and confiscated it under the Capitulation of Alexandria in 1801. The partially broken stelae inscribed in three languages—hieroglyphs, demotic (cursive Egyptian) and Ancient Greek—has been on display at the British Museum since 1802 and never allowed to leave the UK. Why should Britain — or an institution there—be allowed to assert that it has a greater right over the Rosetta Stone than Egypt, the country where it was created millennia ago and also unearthed in the last century? Britain took the stone when it was the world's most powerful country. It seems to labour under the delusion that it still is. It once had half a reason to continue to keep other nations' valuable historical objects on the 'safe-keeping" excuse. That excuse no longer holds. Most countries from whom Britain looted ('acquired") objects are now well equipped to keep their own valuable artefacts safely, with Afghanistan being an exception. Technology allows the British Museum and other such repositories of former colonial powers to keep holographic copies for their own audiences and return the originals to their homelands. So why don't they do so? Maybe Britain should start by refusing to send the Bayeux Tapestry back to France in 2027. The author is a freelance writer. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect News18's views. The Vrindavani Vastra is a 350-year-old silk cloth woven in Assam, depicting scenes from Lord Krishna's life. It will travel from the British Museum to India in 2027 and be displayed at the State Museum in Guwahati for six months, its maximum display time per decade due to fragility. The Vrindavani Vastra, created possibly for a Vaishnavite spiritual center in the 16th century, landed in Tibet via monks. In 1904, during a British military expedition to Tibet, journalist Perceval Landon acquired it and "gave" it to the British Museum in 1905. The British Museum's director, Nicholas Cullinan, reportedly follows a policy of negotiating exchanges based on "partnership rather than ownership." This means the museum aims to retain its collections, which include heritage from other countries amassed during Britain's imperial past, and only loan them out.