Salar Jung Museum, Hyderabad

On the first day of our trip to Hyderabad we arrived early in the morning and slept until lunch time. We didn't want to waste a whole day so we set off in our taxi in the afternoon to try to see the Golconda Fort. After just a couple of minutes on the road it started to rain and as we drove it got steadily worse. Since we were aiming to go to an outdoor sound and light show in a ruined fort, the realisation soon dawned that going there probably wasn’t the cleverest idea I'd ever had. Remembering my quick scan of the guide books that morning, we took a decision to postpone the fort for a dryer day and I asked the driver if he could take us to the Salar Jung museum instead. It was – to be honest – the only place I could remember from the guide book that was on our list of included attractions and was sure to be indoors.

Any Port in a Storm

Mohin the driver was about to tackle a massive busy junction when I threw the change of plan at him and without even a hint of a hurumph of frustration, he calmly pulled off a very complicated transition from one lane of a busy road to the one furthest away from him and we headed off in the opposite direction.

We arrived at the museum and Mohin dropped us off and went to find a parking space. We hid under some thatched umbrellas to try to avoid getting soaked and waited for him to return. He popped off to get our tickets (150 Rp or £2/$3 for foreigners) and then led us to the entrance. To get in we had to go through separate security checks, one for men and the other for women, and I was told in no uncertain terms that they didn't care if I wasn't planning to take any photos, the camera wasn't going inside and I'd have to go back to the cloakroom and leave it. Luckily Mohin was still outside making sure we didn't have any problems so I was able to rush out, give him my camera and get back in the line. The 'no cameras' culture was something that did start to get a bit irritating in many of the Hyderabad attractions.

Salar Who?

The museum started life as the private collection of Mir Yousuf Ali Khan who was more commonly known as Salar Jung III though I have no idea why. The Salar Jungs had been influential men and several of them were Prime Ministers under the Nizams who ruled Hyderabad. Salar Jung III was a lover of the arts, hung out with poets and painters and died as a batchelor in 1949 leaving no heirs but a large amount of art, antiques and collectables. The government created a committee to administer his estate and in 1951 the Salar Jung museum was established and opened by the then-Prime Minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru.

All Kinds of Everything

The museum is said to be the third largest in India and like many Indian museums it has a rather eclectic and bizarre collection of pieces great and not so great, significant and obscure. I enjoyed the galleries full of family portraits and photographs for the Salar Jung family and the Nizams whom they served. I found the children's section very dated and not as charming as I'd expected – you couldn't help but think that a lot of these train sets and dolls houses didn't look as if they'd ever seen much in the way of play. In terms of art, the museum has a vast geographic spread representing everything from European art through Middle East and Far Eastern works and ofcourse Indian pieces.

The furniture was fascinating and much of it was so over the top in design and detail that you couldn't imagine ever having a house grand enough for it to stand in. There was – I'm ashamed to admit – a stunning collection of carved ivories, every one of which I'd have happily stolen and taken home. There were rooms full of textiles, bronzes and archaeological finds, 17th century Moghal glass and a particularly strange room called 'fauna' which contained the weirdest mix of rather randomly grouped animal related 'stuff' like carved animals sitting in cases with stuffed critters and porcelain representations. It was as if someone got all Salar Jung's bits and bobs out and said 'Well these are all animals so lets just stick them all together'. In the so-called 'toys' section there were all sorts of weird things that I'd not have called toys including some old Staffordshire flat-back ceramics. We later discovered at the Mysore Palace that the term 'toys' can be used to cover a much wider scope than we'd understand in the West – including carved gods which can be worshipped. There was a room full of rather nice Persian and Chinese carpets which we particularly enjoyed and a strange display of the Masonic regalia of the founding family.

There are two newer wings on either side of the main building – appropriately enough a Western wing with mostly European exhibits and an Eastern Wing of Oriental pieces. These newer wings were architecturally less interesting than the main building and the Western wing in particular had some truly awful things in it. In total the museum has 38 different galleries but even with the newer wings added, it's estimated that only about one quarter of the total collection is ever on display.

Clocking the Clock

It's claimed that the highlight of the museum is the 19th Century mechanical clock – perhaps you can sense that I wasn't immensely impressed by it. We stepped out of a gallery of bronze gods and found a large auditorium absolutely packed with people. We had – entirely accidentally – turned up just before the hourly event of the clock chiming. The clock is British in origin and was made by the firm of Cook and Kelvy. Cameras were focused on the face of the clock, and there were several television screens spaced around the large auditorium. The space was jam packed with crowds waiting to watch the 'excitement'. On the hour, every hour, a little man comes out and bangs a bell then disappears back into the clock. Beside the bell-banger, there's another figure who is a blacksmith and he's constantly tapping away at something. I've seen the clock performances in Prague and Munich and I have to say that this is one of the world's least impressive performing clocks.

Worth a Visit?

When faced with such a bizarre set of exhibits it's hard not to wonder how on earth they all found themselves in the same place. The mix of Indian and European items doesn't always sit comfortably side by side. There are some truly awful looking Italian-style soppy Victorian sculptures that would struggle to get given away and then just when you think 'oh how tacky' you'll find a room full of absolutely beautiful and finely crafted items.

We had only an hour and a half to rush around the museum, which possibly wasn't the fairest way to see it. A wet Sunday afternoon in a city where it seldom rains probably wasn't the best time to go either and the museum was absolutely chock-a-block with people shuffling slowly between the rooms. There's a pleasant and spotlessly clean snack-bar if too much culture is prone to make you hungry or thirsty. There should be a shop but the place it was supposed to be seemed to just be the home of the first-aid room. Sadly (but rather refreshingly) we've found that very few Indian museums have much in the way of a decent shop, seldom running to more than a few dusty tomes or plaster-casts of weird things you couldn't possibly want to buy. The Salar Jung didn't even manage to run to that.