Edwin Lutyen's Mughal Garden in New Delhi

Having admired Lutyens' Mughal Garden in New Delhi for years, and knowing it only from photographs, I eagerly joined the queue for a visit on 17th February 2002 at 10 am. The pleasant surprise, 'No charges for entry' was followed by an unpleasant surprise 'Carrying of brief case, purse hand bag, camera, tiffin box, transistor, radio, mobile phone, arms, ammunition or any other objectionable article is prohibited inside'. So no photographs - thoughts of smuggling in a small camera for a few snaps were extinguished by an airport-type metal detector and two thorough body searches. I then joined an endless crocodile of visitors following a marked route through the garden, with many smaller crocodiles of school children in smart uniforms, reminding me of the troupes at a cubs and brownies jamboree. Over 100 armed guards police the route. It passes through botanical beds before reaching the Moghul Garden, with the first glimpse providing the first disappointment.

Designed in 1931, the Mughal Garden is one of Lutyens’ later gardens and therefore designed without the help of Gertrude Jekyll. In my view, none of these are as good as the early Jekyll-Lutyens collaborative projects. Lutyens was not a garden user, or a plantsman, and when working alone treated gardens as exercise zones for his geometrical imagination. India's Islamic garden tradition in fact provides more justification for this approach than does England. Persian paradise gardens were often enclosures to be enjoyed from a central pavilion or to be walked through on cool evenings. But the geometry of Islamic gardens is always legible. The rich planting of Lutyens' Mughal Garden makes the patterns hard to see. Perhaps they look better from above.

Further disappointments may be listed : (1) blue and white mosaic ('swimming pool') tiles cover pool floors (2) milk-chocolate and white tiles cover pool walls (3) the gap between the water line and the pool rim is painted baby purple gloss paint (4) none of the canals is dry but nor is there much evidence of flowing water (5) the fountains play, which is unusual in India, but some of the fountain basins leak (6) the elegant lotus fountains have been treated with terracotta paint, as have many of the plant pots (7) some of the stonework has been badly re-pointed (8) virulent green sticks with matching green plastic is used for the plant supports (9) the planting design looks to be the work of aesthetic disciple of a man who served his horticultural apprenticeship at London's Victoria Park in the 1920s. The colour scheme is like confetti. The favourite plants are dahlias, marigolds, pansies, violas, HT roses, pansies and snapdragons.

The proscribed tour of this tawdry place concludes with a pleasant surprise. Each visitor receives a gift from the President of India: a small and beautiful terracotta pot containing Brahmi (Bacopa monnieri) with a leaflet explaining that Brahmi is 'an important medicinal plant useful for brain and central nervous system as nervine tonic'. I needed it - and took the opportunity write a comment in the Visitor's Book, thanking the President for his generous hospitality and expressing some disappointment with the planting design. I then looked at previous entries and discovered myself in a minority of one. Typical comments from other visitors were: 'This is a paradise on earth, a true Garden of Eden', 'I did not know that flowers could be so wonderful', 'A President who cares so much for his garden will also care for his people. Thank you.' My indignation was replaced by humility.