From heritage to hollow walls: The vanishing soul of Tezpur Government Boys’ School

There are places that hold more than memories, they hold time. One such place is Tezpur Government Boys' School, Assam. This school is a monument in itself, established in the 1800s, a time when Assam was thick with colonial confusion and cultural assertion. It was here, in the classrooms of this school that giants of Assamese literature, music, and theatre once sat, dreamt, and dared to shape a new cultural consciousness.

Former students-Bhupen Hazarika, who sang our sorrows and dreams alike; Phani Sarma, a pioneer in theatre; Lakshminath Bezbaroa, revered as the father of modern Assamese literature, Bishnu Rabha, who embodied all-music, poetry, dance, freedom fighting; they are monuments of the Assamese identity. To be a student of this school came with a pride - a deep rooted connection to legacy, to the arts, to intellectual rigour, and to values that shaped the soul of Tezpur.

But today you might struggle to find that spirit. When I went back recently, I was heartbroken to see the transformation. The Assam-type houses with history embedded in every corner have been broken down. There stood the concrete blocks that are new but are hollow of heritage. All that emotion, memory, and significance have been erased. I understand buildings need to be safe, spaces need to evolve. But why erasure? Could we not have preserved a portion of the old school and created a heritage wing? A place where citizens could walk through history and learn what their town once stood for?

All over, cities have managed to preserve their inheritance while embracing modernity. Take Fontainhas in Goa; with its narrow lanes, Portuguese homes, and wrought-iron balconies, it is a living museum. Yes, the upkeep is hard. But the residents, along with government and heritage groups, have fought to keep the past alive. Today, Fontainhas is a story you can walk through.

Similarly, in Kyoto, Japan, streets are preserved to look exactly like they did during the Edo period. In Barcelona, Gaudi's architecture is protected. In Philadelphia, the oldest streets still stand proud. Why, then, has Tezpur turned a blind eye? What happened to the people who once nurtured cinema, literature, and poetry?

Gentrification is a mindset. When everything is measured in square feet, we begin to lose the pulse of the people. Now, modern Tezpur is beginning to feel like any other small town trying too hard to become a city, plastic and soulless.

But Tezpur wasn't like this. There was once a rhythm, a hum of creativity and curiosity that emanated from places like my school. We were taught to dream, to question, to write, to sing, to act.

Imagine the stories the walls of this school could have told. Of Bhupen Hazarika humming a tune during recess. Of Phani Sarma practising a monologue in a corner. Of a young student in 1935 writing a poem that would one day become part of Assamese textbooks. These stories are intangible, invaluable.

We should have had a museum. A corridor lined with photographs, old report cards, letters, instruments, stage props, manuscripts. A digital archive to access interviews, audio clips, footage of stage plays, folk tales passed down orally. An oral history project capturing voices of alumni who marched in the Independence Day parade from the school ground. A community library that holds the books these legends once read.

It is about heritage, the continuity between the past, present, and future. When we preserve heritage, we give our children roots. We show them who they are, where they come from, and what they are capable of. When we destroy heritage, we don't lose buildings; we lose meaning.

To the alumni of the school, spread across Assam and beyond, can we not come together and form a Tezpur Government Boys' Heritage Committee? Can we not raise funds, collect memorabilia, and create a digital and physical archive? Let's visit the school and try to imagine what it once was. Then, demand that it be honoured.

We owe this to Tezpur that once taught all of Assam how to sing, how to write, how to dream. Let Tezpur remember who it is.