Kolkata, the “City of Joy,” has a way of pulling you into its labyrinthine history. You can spend days marvelling at the colonial grandiosity of the Victoria Memorial or getting lost in the bookstalls of College Street. But for me, the real magic of this city lies in its quiet corners, the offbeat places to visit in Kolkata that don’t make it onto the standard tourist brochures. It was during one such quest for the hidden and the historical that I found myself hailing a cab and dropping the GPS to the cluttered street of Raja Ram Mohan Sarani, formerly Amherst Street, searching for a three-storied relic of the Bengal Renaissance – the Raja Rammohun Roy Memorial Museum Kolkata.

From the outside, the building doesn’t scream for attention. It stands there, dignified and slightly weathered, a classic example of colonial Georgian architecture that seems to whisper sweet nothings of the bygone Bengali era. But as I climbed the worn steps and paid the nominal INR 10 entry fee, I knew I was about to step into the world of the man history books call the “Father of Modern India“.

To understand the museum, you must first understand the house it resides in: Simla House. As I walked through the cool, high-ceilinged corridors, I learned that Raja Rammohun Roy purchased this property from a Francis Mendes for a princely sum of Rs. 13,000, most likely in 1815. It was here that his two sons, Radhaprasad and Ramaprasad, lived with their families. The name “Simla House,” I discovered, likely originated from the area itself being called “Simla” during that period.

Standing in the wide, airy hallway, I tried to imagine the intellectual fervour this house once contained. It was within these very walls that Rammohun Roy held weekly meetings of the Atmiya Sabha, a philosophical society that would later evolve into the Brahmo Samaj, the socio-religious reform movement that changed the face of Hinduism forever. This wasn’t just a residence; it was the birthplace of modern Indian thought.

However, the path from a private home to a public museum was a long and arduous one. The house remained with Roy’s descendants until the 1960s, after which it sadly fell into the hands of encroachers and faced years of neglect and vandalism. It was only in 1972, during Rammohun’s bi-centenary birth anniversary, that Rammohun College initiated a move to rescue the dilapidated structure. The building was finally acquired in 1986, meticulously restored, and inaugurated as a memorial museum in 1999. Knowing this history of resilience made my visit feel even more poignant.

As someone who appreciates old buildings, I took my time admiring the architecture. Designed reportedly by one W. Wood, the three-storied structure is a pristine example of the colonial Georgian style that was popular in 19th-century Bengal.

The front of the building, with its rectangular shape and symmetrical design, immediately transports you to a different era. One reviewer on Google noted, “The property is beautiful. If you appreciate the beauty and warmth of North Calcutta, then you should definitely visit this museum. I loved the long stretch of Verandah on the second floor. I will visit this place again and again just for the sake of the building only”.

Inside, the spacious rooms and broad hallways are designed to keep the air flowing, a practical necessity before the age of air conditioning. Even today, the museum relies on cross-ventilation and ceiling fans to keep visitors comfortable. The wooden staircases creak slightly underfoot, echoing with the footsteps of the past. As I climbed to the upper floors, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the weight of history surrounding me.

The museum’s collection is spread across the three floors, and while it might not have the flashy digital screens of modern museums, its charm lies in its authenticity and sincerity. One visitor review I had read before coming here described it perfectly: “The creak of the wooden floors, the smell of old paper, the filtered sunlight through colonial windows, it all feels strangely personal”.

I can’t take credit of exploring the lower level as it looked naked! Upon query, I was told it’s library and open to scholars and postgraduate students, I didn’t want to invade. Quietly I made my way to the upper floor.

As I ascended, I found myself face-to-face with the story of a man who challenged the status quo, I got goosebumps. From the pages of history to walking through his life in his home, a certain chill passed me – a good one.

The Replica Study: One room is dedicated to recreating the ambiance of his study. While most of the items are replicas or fabricated objects, as none of the original belongings were preserved, they are arranged with such care that you can almost see him sitting there, quill in hand, drafting a letter arguing against the practice of Sati.

The Artworks: The walls are lined with paintings, sketches, and photographs. I spent a long time looking at Solvyn’s etchings depicting the horrific practice of Suttee (Sati), which Roy campaigned so vigorously to abolish. These images are haunting, but they serve as a powerful reminder of why his work was so necessary.

Perhaps the most moving exhibit is the replica of Rammohun Roy’s death mask, sculpted shortly after he passed away in England in 1833. Standing before it, I felt a deep sense of connection to the man who had walked these very halls two centuries ago.

The museum preserves a wealth of information through original books by Rammohun, facsimiles of his letters, and historical documents. It provides a comprehensive look at his contributions, from founding the Hindu College to his efforts in championing women’s rights and freedom of the press.

For those from Bengal, Raja Rammohun Roy is a familiar name and needs no introduction. For those who do not know him, he was a man ahead of his time. A polyglot who mastered Sanskrit, Persian, Arabic, and English, he synthesized the best of Eastern and Western thought. As I moved from one gallery to the next, his life’s work that was a part of my history syllabus in school, unfolded again before me. His campaign against idolatry, his advocacy for the inheritance of property by women, and his relentless struggle to abolish the inhuman practice of Sati, which finally led to its ban in 1829 by his and Lord William Bentinck’ relentless efforts.

One of the displays quotes Rabindranath Tagore, who famously said that Rammohun Roy heralded the “Age of Enlightenment” in India. Standing there, I realized that this museum isn’t just about preserving the past, it’s about understanding the ideals that shape our present, education, equality, and rational thought.

I am slightly obsessed with balconies. It’s my way of feeling the emotions walking the world. From an observable height, reading people, their emotions, their stance, stitching a story around it in my head, it allows my thoughts to flow and creativity to peak (at times). Momentarily, I live their life.

About an hour later, I found myself standing on the balcony, overlooking hat seemed like a permanent altar.

Growing up in a Bengali household, courtyards and balconies weren’t just architectural features, they were where grandmothers shelled peas, where cousins played hide-and-seek, where afternoons stretched like molasses. But Mumbai has reduced me to a matchbox apartment with no balcony to call my own. So, I stood there longer than necessary, savouring the wrought iron balustrade, staring into nothingness, letting the silence hold me.

Below, the altar sat arched and patient, its intricate friezes supported by large columns that seemed to be holding not just the roof, but memories. Three coconut trees stood guard at the far end, their bases swallowed by banana foliage, as if hiding something precious. The brick balustrade. The ornate eaves. The cracks that time had etched like fine lines on an old face.

And then it hit me, a soft, unexpected ache. This wasn’t just history. This was a reminder of where I come from. Of the courtyards I’ve left behind. Of the man who fought so I could stand here, on this balcony, with choices my grandmothers never had. Every corner wasn’t merely gatekeeping a glorious past. It was gently, asking me to do the same.

Protect what matters. Before it disappears.

According to local guides, the best time to visit is between 12:00 PM and 2:00 PM when the light filters beautifully through the windows, and the crowds are thinner. The winter months (October to March) are ideal for exploring Kolkata comfortably. Weekdays are generally quieter than weekends

By Metro: The nearest metro stations are Mahatma Gandhi Road Metro Station and Girish Park Metro Station

By Bus: The nearby bus stand is Sukhia Street

By Taxi/Ride-share: App-based cabs (Uber, Ola) and yellow taxis can drop you directly at the location

By Foot: The museum is located in central Kolkata, not far from College Street and Esplanade

85A, Raja Ram Mohan Sarani (formerly Amherst Street), Simla, Machuabazar, Kolkata.

Timings: The museum is open from Tuesday to Sunday, 11:00 AM to 4:30 PM. It remains closed on Mondays and public holidays.

Indian Adults: INR 10

Indian Children (up to 11 years): INR 5

Foreign Nationals: INR 50

Photography Charges: If you wish to capture the beauty of this place, photography is allowed for a fee:

Mobile Phone: INR 50

Camera: INR 100

As I finally stepped out of the Raja Rammohun Roy Memorial Museum and back onto the noisy streets of North Kolkata, I felt a sense of calm. I had spent just over an hour inside, but it felt like I had travelled back in time. This is the magic of Kolkata’s offbeat places; they don’t just show you history, they make you feel it.

For anyone visiting the city, I cannot recommend this detour enough. Whether you are a history enthusiast, a student, or simply a traveller looking for a moment of peace and reflection. The Simla House welcomes you. It stands as a quiet, dignified tribute to a man whose ideas continue to ripple through generations. When I speak of Kolkata (old Calcutta), it hits me with a warm embrace of nostalgia along with a reminder that the once colonial capital of India holds history and heritage at every turn – be it the Jewish Synagogues or the Metcalfe Hall or Alipore Jail Museum, there will always be some gem yet to be discovered. And if you want to understand the appeal of Kolkata how I have lived it, then heritage walks guiding you through the historic corners of Kolkata, heading to Bandel and Chandannagar, or Serampore and Chinsurah is how to you should go about it. Don’t miss out on the sweet goodness and savouries that Kolkata has to offer.