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A century of conservation at the Mumbai caves: learning in retrospect.

No wonder men became Buddhists when they had such a place to go to and "no bills to pay". (1)

Although this comment can be seen as offensive, the intent of the famed 19th-century travel writer James Douglas was to grudgingly admit to the beauty and allure of the Kanheri caves in Bombay (Mumbai). It is evident from the range of travelogues, memoirs, lithographs, and paintings on the caves of western India, that these have always held an attraction for the stray traveller or confirmed scholar. The caves have been variously described as "a den of fools", alluding to those at Ellora, or "the incunabula of architecture", while speaking of Bhaja. Appreciation and acknowledgement by past travellers as well as contemporary art historians has led to a few of these monuments being listed as World Heritage Sites, increasing their prominence. The Buddhist cave site ofAjanta near Aurangabad, the Shaiva caves in Elephanta off the coast of Mumbai, and the Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist excavations at Ellora in Aurangabad have already found place on this UNESCO list.

In a sense neglected in the glorious shadows of their counterparts, the less renowned cave sites of Jogeshwari, Mandapeshwar, Mahakali, and Kanheri in Mumbai deserve their spot in the sun, too. Carved over a thousand years ago, with some being even more ancient, these caves were used for reclusive meditation by monks who would periodically traverse the lush countryside to preach and beg for alms. This necessitated the location of these caves at a certain distance from the bustle of the town, but still within reach. Now in the 21st century, these sites lie enmeshed in the urban fabric of the constantly growing metropolis of Mumbai. The result: cracked columns, sewage deposited in the courtyards, and a grim fight for survival. Their listing as ancient monuments in the national register has granted them some respite, but the preservation of these unique monolithic monuments, "sculpture on a grand scale", has puzzled conservationists from the late 19th century to present times Carved out of sheer rock in the mountainside, the question was how to conserve a hill. The following narrative begins with a brief background on the evolution and architectural expression of these sites in Mumbai and then ponders the conservation decisions enacted from 1899 to 1999 - a clear 100-year spectrum that is evidence of the trials and tribulations faced by the sites and their custodians. It is hoped that presenting this record will help in arriving at "what works" or more importantly "what does not work" at these monuments, and perhaps some lessons in retrospect.

Mumbai Caves - architectural expression and personal impressions

Unlike the caves of Ajanta and others, which were abandoned and later rediscovered by hunting expeditions or archaeological forays, the caves of Mumbai seem to have been in continuous use from the beginning. This is perhaps why much abrasion due to human intervention is observed at these sites. The earliest trace of a European visit to Kanheri was left by a party of three Englishmen and a lady in 1678. Their initials cut into the left leg of the standing figure at the north end of the principal chaitya at Kanheri are the oldest instance of graffiti at the caves of western India. Others followed in their wake, fortunately leaving their mark only in the form of travel journals, and their writings provide a slice of those sleepy times when Bombay was still a clutch of fishing villages with a beautiful bay and verdant mountains with lush greenery.

For instance, the surreal description of Elephanta in A Boy's Travels round the World, is that of a bygone era that can never be hoped to be recaptured, except through this account:
 Apparently as a young child, the precocious Master
 Field took his grandmother to Elephanta which in those days did not
 have a landing pier. You landed from the Bandar-boat in a tony. The
 tony capsized, leaving youth in the prow and grandmother, not at the
 helm, but in the waves, which fortunately were not big. (2)


A mini-train spewing dark smoke and diesel fumes now transports the average visitor from the pier up to the World Heritage Site of Elephanta. Although the island has retained much of its pristine setting, the cacophony of uncontrolled visitors has disrupted the languid charm of the caves, to say nothing of blatant misuse of heritage property for picnics on the historic floors.

The story of Kanheri (or for that matter any other monument within urban limits) is the same. Excavated in dense to soft medium-grained amygdaloidal basalt (3) about 500 metres above sea level, Kanheri, with more than 110 excavations, is one of the largest enclaves in the country. The scale and extent of the excavations at Kanheri, with its numerous water cisterns and excellent rainwater harvesting system, indicate its popularity as a monastic establishment and pilgrim centre (figure 1) and its importance is heightened by the fact that it is the only centre where a continuous legacy of Buddhist faith and architecture is observed in an unbroken progression from the 2nd century BCE to the 10th century CE, with living examples cut in rock. Carved in three tiers of the Krishnagiri hills, the caves have been frequented by travellers, the earliest being the fabled visit of Chinese pilgrim Fa Xian in the 5th century CE. While most of the excavations were for monastic dwelling purposes, the significant ones are the main chaitya or prayer hall (figure 2), the darbar hall with a curious excavation of low rock-cut benches, the oldest dam of the western region, and a unique stupa burial gallery lined with hundreds of brick memorial mounds. The resourceful rainwater harvesting system consisting of elaborate channelling devices cut in rock generates vivid images of a thriving township, best described as follows:
 The site of the caves, lonely, picturesque, and not far from the rich
 trade centres of Sopara, Kalyan and Chemula, combines the three
 leading characteristics of the sites of the chief groups of Western
 India rock temples. But Kanheri is the only rock-cut monastery in
 Western India that has the feeling of having been, and of being ready
 again to be, a pleasant and popular dwelling place. (4)


Fortunately, the aspect of Kanheri, despite the hordes of visitors and the bickering monkeys (the result of a wildlife conservation project that went horribly wrong) is still preserved to a large extent thanks to the notification of the area around it as a National Park in 1969, at that time only about 20.26 square kilometres. Eventually more area was acquired and the National Park now comprises 104 square kilometres the world's largest national park (and Asia's most visited) within city limits.

It was indeed providential that the boundaries of the National Park were extended, else Kanheri might have seen the same fate as the cave of Jogeshwari. Cut in friable volcanic breccia (5) in the 8th century (the dates are debatable and some experts assign it to the 6th century on account of the stylistic form of its pillars, and classify the extant 8th-century inscription in one of the caves as a later addition), the monument of Jogeshwari is in fact, next to the Kailasa temple at Ellora, the largest known rock-cut form in India, with its length extending nearly 80 metres from east to west, and its breadth, including the long south passage, about 65 metres. Axially arranged in the east-west direction, access from the east is through a series of steps about 3 metres wide, descending to a depth of circa 8 metres. Consisting of axially arranged courtyards, with a strong sense of the interplay of light and shadow so predominantly evident at Elephanta, Jogeshwari (figure 3) belongs to the intermediate stage of Shaiva excavation. A late-19th-century description paints an appealing picture, describing the difficult-to-locate access through rice fields and mango orchards: "Over the sloping path that leads to the western entrance, a natural arch is formed by the branches of a banyan tree, which, shooting across, have taken root on the other side, and render the approach singularly picturesque." (6) Far from this idyllic aspect, the Jogeshwari cave today presents a diametrically opposite image. The only similarity is that it is still hard to find, not because it lies serenely undisturbed in the rice fields, but because a dense slum settlement has completely taken over this ancient site, with hutments having cropped up right above the historic mound. The inherently friable and weak rock of this cave is already weathered, but its deterioration has been accelerated on account of the sewage water that routinely runs down its ancient sculpture.

Identified as the oldest Shaiva example in the Mumbai group of caves, the Mandapeshwar caves cut in hard rock would have been on a par with the World Heritage Site of Elephanta, were it not for their purposeful vandalism during Portuguese occupation (figure 4). Excavated between the 2nd and 6th centuries CE, the Mahakali or Kondivite caves are planned in two series and also boast of one of the most peculiar cave plans in western India. With its hut-like enclosing wall around the stupa, this cave at Mahakali has caused most experts to wonder about its antiquity and evolutionary placement with respect to other caves (figure 5). The edges of both the Mandapeshwar and Mahakali cave sites have been found to be susceptible to the pressures of surrounding slum settlements and need close monitoring.

The ASI is Formed - experiments with an underlying truth

There is no doubt that the Mumbai caves were looked upon with much wonder and awe by visitors and scholars alike. They were so well-frequented that some experts feared desecration and appropriation of artefacts from these sites by self-professed archaeologists. The Mumbai caves were brought under the care and purview of the Ancient Monuments Protection Act of 1904, which meant that their preservation would be undertaken by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) formed much earlier in 1862. However, despite this early notification, both the history of repairs at the caves and that of the ASI have been turbulent. The ASI initially focused primarily on the North-Western Provinces and Bihar, and it was only the efforts of Sir James Fergusson and Sir James Burgess that led to concentrated activity towards preservation of the cave sites of western India. It was their individual and combined writings, reports, drawings, and woodcuts that led to the recognition of the importance of these sites. Consequently, in 1867, the Bombay Government sent out notices to its officials to prepare formal lists to include historic sites within a national register of monuments. Burgess was assigned this role and he also suggested the architectural recording of cave sites along with provision of support staff to man these sites.

In 1874, the activities of the ASI were extended to western and southern India and Burgess was appointed the Archaeological Surveyor and reporter for this zone. However, the onus of the repair and preservation of the monuments was left to the local government and the work was executed through the Public Works Department (PWD). This was never considered suitable, as experts working at these sites often felt that the PWD should be restricted to public infrastructure projects and not involved in delicate work such as the conservation of rock-cut caves. Fortunately, Burgess was appointed the Director-General of the ASI in 1885, and a series of steps with regard to the caves followed.

Burgess being a trained architect, his tenure as the Director-General saw a shift in the focus of the ASI from field surveys to architectural studies. Another step he took (and declared as his chief reason for taking up the post) was to prevent random excavation of stupas and memorials, as well as acquisition of artefacts by officers or so-called experts involved in archaeological work. This had become necessary because of the plethora of archaeological works initiated by orientalists, who were merely rifling through the mounds, without any scientific basis, besides carting away relics. This led to a loss of perception of the relic, both material and in the context of the site, to say nothing of the loss of a possible historic link. Several instances of such explorations were cited by both Fergusson and Burgess, especially those related to the excavation of burial mounds or stupas, as these were fabled to (and often did) contain treasures buried along with the relics. Many archaeological expeditions had been undertaken at Kanheri and Jogeshwari, chief among which were the excavation of a brick stupa in front of Cave 3 by Dr J. Bird in 1839 (during which he found two copperplates of immeasurable value) and the work at the stupa burial gallery by E.W. West in 1853, both at Kanheri (figure 6). Accounts of their work are available in their writings in the Asiatic Society journals and elsewhere. Burgess used some choice words in his description of the work of Dr Bird, and Fergusson remarked in The Cave Temples of India, (7) how it was common for "dilettantes" to undertake expeditions and then cart off these priceless relics to their own private collections. He further added that not only was the interpretation given by Dr Bud incorrect, but he had taken the copperplates to England and they were now untraceable.

In addition to these forays, efforts to decipher the numerous inscriptions by Asiatic Society scholars was also underway. A Cave Temple Commission had been formed in 1848 under the direction of Dr John Wilson, and Dr Hiranand Shastri was appointed as the expert to catalogue and record the inscriptions. He was in several instances (through correspondence within the Asiatic Society journals) accused of irregular work or erroneous assumption of the cave's character and was about to be decommissioned, but before that could happen he passed away.

The result of all such listing, recording, and surveying activity was resolute focus on the cave sites. However, the pressing need at these sites was the initiation of preservation work. The first works in the last decade of the 19th century and the early decades of the 20th century were related to acquisition of the historic property, clearing, and defining boundaries. Parallel to the recording activities, caretaker facilities at significant sites were set up to prevent any vandalism. It is important to note that the expenses mentioned in the initial progress reports are restricted to those on wages and maintenance works. Funds for conservation were limited then too, and most were siphoned off to more significant monuments such as Elephanta.

The early 1910s heralded the beginnings of a few conservation actions in the form of stone preservative applications. Of the important restoration initiations at rock-cut sites, two of the most significant were applications to preserve friable rock and the reconstruction of pillars and pilasters to render coherence and stability. Since there was no precedent for the preservation of monolithic architectural forms anywhere in the world, most of these early restoration works were experiments; while some were the result of inspired on-site decisions, others could be described as even more inspired quack remedies.

One such unique experiment was the use of local materials to repair walls and pillars. To us today the materials used seem frankly of the kitchen-shelf variety, but there was some serious experimentation being done by site officers. They also tried to colour match the repairs to the old work, which was perhaps why the potions and mixtures seem inconceivable. The use of such "home" remedies (barring impurities) prevented the abrasive salt action of colouring agents popularly used today.

A mixture for replastering (to make it approximately similar to the old plaster in appearance) is as follows: (8)
Kankar lime 25 seers (9)

Cement 2 1/2 seers

Black slag from brick kilns, roughly ground 7 1/2 seers

Black colouring matter extracted from the 4 chittaks
cooked fruit of wild pomegranate (Nareli)

Gur (black sugar) 1 seer

Hemp 11/4


Needless to say such and other experiments continued.

In the year 1914, a product called Szerelemey's Liquid, a stone preservation mixture, was applied to some of the cave fronts at Kanheri. Szerelemey, a Hungarian resident in England, had arrived at a suitable solution for the preservation of friable stone by a process of sealing the outer stone membrane through an application which after solidification would prove impermeable to the action of water. A note in the 1916 report of the ASP' states that the effect of the application was not yet perceptible. There seemed to be no difference in the appearance of the stone, which had received a wash of the solution; however, the difference could not be marked in such a short span of time. The Bombay Builder, (11) a particularly outspoken journal of the time, clearly stated that it placed very little faith in the process. The same year the journal recommended that inscriptions and disintegrating surfaces of sculpture would be treated with the stone preservative while:
 ...in case of columns that are decayed and diminished in requisite
 strength it is recommended that they be made out to their original
 size and simple shape with a facing of large blocks of stone,
 carefully dressed to conform with the texture of the adjoining rock,
 the joints being worked extremely fine, so that no cement mortar is
 needed in the beds; the intention being to make the joints very
 unobtrusive and preserve the effect of the original monolithic
 construction as far as far as is possible.


This is where the problem arose and has since been the constant source of debate among modern-day conservators.

A monolithic rock face presents a facade that is completely devoid of any joints, which is exactly the opposite of masonry construction that has regular courses. So although the material used for repair was authentic, the finish was essentially different from the original. This created a disrupted appearance, although like in material. The conservators were fast discovering the pitfalls in dealing with a unique architectural form.

Some amount of abuse of the monuments was also periodically observed and it was reported in 1919 that the caves of Mandapeshwar were being used by the local padre as stables and storeroom. The notes of the archaeological officer at that point made a mute appeal for better policing and argued that, as it was impossible to provide caretakers for every monument in the Presidency, it was essential that they be inspected at least once a year. Meanwhile petrographic studies continued at Jogeshwari, where the effects of weathering and weak rock were evident from the sculptures' alarming state of degeneration. The preliminary work of clearance at the cave had started in 1926, and in 1928 a long crack in the rock immediately over the sculptural panels depicting Shiva and Parvati, was stopped successfully by injecting liquid cement. (It should be noted that this particular area has been continually prone to seepage and continues to leak.) Repairs to resurrect the pillars were initiated in 1928-29 and successfully completed, in exact imitation of the well preserved pillar adjoining it. It is mentioned in the progress report that the cost was only Rs 525/-and that it seemed extremely desirable to gradually treat the other decayed pillars in the same way. By 1932-33 work on most of the pillars along this courtyard was completed by building up in stone masonry This repair-work survives to this day.

It was the success of this and other examples, some with cement, that buoyed the hopes of conservators of rock-cut sites and could have sparked large-scale restoration across such monuments, were it not for a note of restraint introduced by the then Director-General of the ASI, Sir John Marshall. Pre-empting over-zealous attempts at restoration which would give rise to a "finished" appearance of monuments, he set out specific directives in his Conservation Manual. This succinct and wonderfully lucid handbook is still relevant, and with regard to repair of rock-cut sites it states:
 The repair of divine or human figures is never to be attempted
 and that of free floral designs only in very exceptional cases. Empty
 niches should remain empty, if their images are lost; and the spaces
 occupied by images in friezes and string courses should, in repaired
 portions, be left blank. Broken images should not be mended with new
 limbs of other parts, but old portions may be pieced together, as far
 as that is practicable. No experiments are to be tried with any stone
 preservative on ancient buildings except under instructions from the
 Archaeological Superintendent. The latter should in all cases consult
 the Archaeological Chemist before recommending any particular
 preservative, and should supply him, if possible, with a specimen of
 the weathered stone, so that he may test chemically for the causes of
 decomposition. No known preservative is suitable for all stones or
 for all kinds of decay; and no patent solutions on the market are as
 efficacious as they are claimed to be. (12)


Marshall's directives have been waylaid in today's preservation practice where products have been routinely used across ancient sites with little or no preliminary research. Another lesson that was never inculcated was the fact that sometimes minimal intervention or no intervention is the best way forward. Experiments continued in the following years with varying success (and failure) rates.

Preservation Interventions-enduring images and lingering issues

After the turmoil of reorganization of the ASI post-Independence had settled, measures to acquire monuments and the land around them were initiated. This was particularly implemented in the case of the Kanheri caves, which were now sheltered within the limits of an extensive National Park and also fell under the jurisdiction of the Forest Department.

As part of the chemical preservation exercise, in 1950, (13) wet paper-pulp was applied to the affected sculptures of the Mumbai caves for the elimination of injurious salts. Subsequent preservation was attempted with a thin solution of "Gelva"-polymerized vinyl acetate resin. Further studies into the action of salts on the Jogeshwari cave were undertaken by the Archaeological Chemist branch of the ASI in 1954. The results were alarming and with a grim note the chemist reported: "The examination of the Jogeshwari rock yielded results of particular significance. Consequently, it is felt that no amount of chemical treatment will arrest the action of gypsum on the sculptured surface, and it has therefore been recommended that the sculptures should be detached and removed to a museum before it is too late. Already reeling under the effects of a fast-succumbing construction material, removal of the sculptures would mean the certain death of a living monument. Moreover, displacement from the parent structure to a museum would also mean loss of contextual identity for the Jogeshwari sculptures. Fortunately these recommendations were never carried out and Jogeshwari continues to retain the carvings. But its problems were far from over.

The 1950s and '60s also saw the ubiquitous appearance of cement-concrete and it was only a matter of time before it was used for historic repairs (it had been used before, but sparingly). The ease of use, in terms of its mouldable quality and versatility, as it lent itself easily to presenting a monolithic face, ensured that cement-concrete repairs started slowly seeping into the maintenance measures at the Mumbai caves and other rock-cut sites. It could even be colour-matched and treated to appear weathered like stone. Custodians declared that the aesthetics, of primary importance in rock-cut sites, were preserved with this material, along with stability. In the case of stone masonry, although the material was authentic the appearance was definitely compromised. In addition to that, large sections of stone were prohibitively expensive, difficult to procure, and needed skilled labour to carve, whereas cement-concrete was readily available even in the least developed areas.

The problem was that the repair work had a limited lifespan, and as the endemic water movement inside the walls of the caves could not be stopped, it led to corrosion of the reinforcement. This in turn caused the splitting of repaired pillars within a decade. But conservators continued to justify the use of cement-concrete, arguing that it conformed to historic charters, which deemed it necessary for new work to be reversible. purists had no answer to that. In the absence of better solutions, they had to give in to extensive repairs of historic floors, doorways, pillars, pilasters, sculptures, overhangs, and even external rock faces in cement-concrete. The work undertaken matched the original stone so accurately both in colour and texture that it was getting difficult to separate the two. But by far the most damage was to external naturally weathered hillsides that were being grouted with cement-concrete to form an impermeable layer against penetration of rainwater. Water continued to find its way through crevices, but the rock faces started resembling artificial grottoes more and more. The 1980s and '90s saw another dimension added to the problems plaguing the Mumbai caves. The gradual settling of slums around Jogeshwari cave intensified over the years, while Mahakali woke up one day to rows of shanties that had come up overnight after being relocated from Worli.

Back to the Past - lessons learned in retrospect

While no major breakthrough was made in terms of repairs to the caves, the pressures of urban congestion started taking a rapid toll as the 21st century dawned. Seeing the absolutely pitiful state of preservation of Jogeshwari, with pulverized columns, stagnant waste water in ancient courtyards, and sewage dripping on sculpture, a Public Interest Litigation was filed in 2006 against this appalling state of the Mumbai caves (figure 7). More than 150 years after the first Cave Temple Commission, another one (albeit with a different title) was formed under the direction of the Mumbai High Court with architects, historians, custodians, corporators, and councilmen on the panel of experts. The failures and triumphs of the previous works were examined and a conservation report prepared. Strangely evocative of the original commission's findings and the later recommendations of a harangued archaeological officer, one of the first suggestions of the panel was to increase staffing at the caves - a clear indication that lessons are learned in retrospect. Another suggestion was to sensitize users and visitors about the nature and importance of the monuments through information plaques, public address systems (at Kanheri), and better site management. For the first time in decades major conservation work was initiated at Jogeshwari, with the simple action of removing the tonnes of debris and dirt deposited over the ancient cave top (figure 8). It needed numerous labourers and almost nine truckloads to do this job over a period of a few weeks. As a result of this, the malignant issue of water seepage was traced to a leaking municipal drain at the top of the hill, which was speedily consolidated. It is hoped that this will solve the issue of sewage draining on to historic walls.

Now, almost five years since, the caves of Mumbai have received some respite. Kanheri is better manned and recently information plaques were introduced to educate visitors to the caves (figure 9). The open area around the Mahakali caves has been enlarged and a landscape scheme has been proposed. Jogeshwari and its battles have been tough for the custodians, as relocation of the settlement is a sensitive issue with much political involvement. Even then, a move has been made towards the removal of some critical hutments that are directly affecting the sustenance of the cave. Mandapeshwar continues to languish under a century-old litigation issue. Cement continues to be used in the absence of better solutions, but the use of lime is being examined. It is, however, a fact that conservation action at the Mumbai caves is being carried on, albeit in a gradual manner, in keeping with its historicity. This might seem too little and too late for passionate enthusiasts of the caves, and it is also true that several issues still remain to be tackled. To quote Sir John Marshall's Handbook once again:

Archaeological, Public Works or other officers charged with the execution of conservation work should never forget that the reparation of any remnant of ancient architecture, however humble, is a work to be entered upon with totally different feelings from new work or from repairs of a modern building. Although there are many ancient buildings whose state of disrepair suggests at first sight a renewal, it should never be forgotten that their historical value is gone when their authenticity is destroyed, and that our first duty is not to renew them but to preserve them. When, therefore, repairs are carried out, no effort should be spared to save as many parts of the original as possible, since it is to the authenticity of the old parts that practically all the interest attaching to the new will owe itself Broken or half decayed original work is of infinitely more value than the smartest and most perfect new work. (14)

FIGURE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Photographs by Prashant Sharma, unless otherwise credited.

NOTES

(1.) James Douglas, Bombay and Western India - A series of stray papers (Vol. 2), London: Sampson Low, Marston and Co., 1893, p. 198.

(2.) Ibid., p. 210.

(3.) Amygdaloidal basalt has the strength of 600 kg/sq.cm, offers ease of dressing, is non-porous, has vesicles that are not interconnected and is free from divisional planes. The easiest way to identify this stone is by the pock-marked appearance of its surface. These "pock-marks" are almond-shaped vesicles filled with other minerals.

(4.) Arunchandra S. Pathak (Executive Editor & Secretary), Gazetteer of the Bombay Presidency - Thana Places of Interest, Mumbai: Gazetteers Dept., Government of Maharashtra, Government Central Press, Facsimile Reproduction, Vol. XIV, 2000 (originally printed in 1882), p. 123.

(5.) Breccia is also described as coarse-to medium-grained rock composed of angular rock fragments in a matrix of finer material held together by a variety of cementing materials.

(6.) Edward B. Eastwick, A handbook for India; being an account of the three presidencies and of the overland route, intended as a guide for travellers, officers and civilians, Part II - Bombay, London: John Murray, 1859, p. 310.

(7.) James Fergusson and James Burgess, The Cave Temples of India, London: W.H. Allen & Co., 1880, p. 360.

(8.) Archaeological Survey of India, Progress Reports of Archaeological Survey of India, 1905, Western Circle, Government of India Publications, p. 15.

(9.) In India, the Government seer was defined by the Standards of Weights and Measures Act (No. 89 of 1956, amended in 1960 and 1964) as being exactly equal to 0.93310 kg (2.057131 lb). However there were many local variants of the seer in India. In Bombay its value was 28 lb (10.45 kg) called the Old seer (Source: Wikipedia). Consequently, 1 seer = 16 chittaks.

(10.) Archaeological Survey of India, Progress Reports of Archaeological Survey of India, 1916, Western Circle, Government of India Publications, p. 69.

(11.) The Bombay Builder: An Illustrated Journal of engineering, architecture, science and art, 1916.

(12.) Sir John Marshall, Conservation Manual: A handbook for the use of archaeological officers and others entrusted with the care of ancient monuments, Calcutta: Government of India, Superintendent Government Printing, 1923, pp. 25-26.

(13.) Director General, Archaeological Survey of India, Indian Archaeology - A Review (1953-99), New Delhi: Government of India publications.

(14.) Marshall, Conservation Manual, p. 9.
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Author:Gaitonde-Nayak, Brinda
Publication:Marg, A Magazine of the Arts
Geographic Code:9INDI
Date:Mar 1, 2012
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