Karad Diaries-2

The day I ran away from home was the day of Ranga-panchami, a day in which people throw colours on everyone they come across. People all over India celebrate this on the second day of Holi, but in western Maharashtra it used to be done on the 5^th day after Holi.  Though hailed as a celebration of colours, it doesn’t stop at colours; people throw muddy water at each other, smear each others faces with grease paint and hit unsuspecting bystanders with balloons filled with water and sometimes even push visitors in water tanks and so on. All in all it is a rowdy celebration and I hated it immensely, but that was not the reason I ran away from home.

We were three brothers then, and Vijay being youngest, was the spoiled child of the house. I and Sanju (the second brother) resented this, sibling rivalry being what it is; there were always some or the other kind of petty quarrels. Vijay, of course, would colour every incidence and report to father earnestly, resulting in him scolding us which was something we took for granted. We even had a nickname for Vijay, an abbreviation of ‘a puppet of the ruling power’. All this was normal, but the day before Ranga-panchami a complaint by Vijay made my father so mad that he beat me mercilessly with his shoes, which was more than I could take and decided to run away from home.

So in the morning of Ranga-panchami, I just took my bicycle and rode away, but had no clue as to where I would be going. So instinctively I thought of Grandma who was at Kolhapur as she adored me and would be consoling me and may even scold father for beating me. The distance was about 70 kms., and I managed to reach there by evening. The only incident during all this journey that I remember is that the rear tyre of the bicycle got punctured and I had to seek help of a puncture repair shop on the roadside who knew next to nothing about bicycles, there being no bicycle riders on the highway, but managed the job sufficiently for me to carry on riding. I do not remember paying him, but I used to have no money at the time and it never struck me that I would need any. So much for the planning to leave home and start a new life.

As it turned out there was no new life for me, only a change of place for a few days. Of course, as I learnt later, there was a great deal of search operation at Karad, when everyone realised my absence and Sanju bore the brunt as he was sent to search for me and became an easy target for all the rowdy activity of the day. This is something I had not anticipated and felt sad when I learnt about it. As all search at Karad failed, my father made a phone call to my mother’s ancestral home in Kolhapur, one of the very few places that had a telephone connection those days, and someone came to inquire about me at Grandma’s place, where I had reached by then.

So a great rebellion turned out to be a tame affair, the only outcome that I can now record is that I proved that I could ride a bicycle all day and travel 70-75 kilometres when young. I have a bicycle now and ride it occasionally for minor errands, and the maximum distance I can manage these days is about 5 kilometres. But then I am 65 now so that is also worth celebrating.  

Karad Diaries-1

Of all the towns I have ever stayed in, Karad happens to have some very special memories for me. It was here that I experienced firsthand the tremors of an earthquake, ran away from home for the very first and only time in my life and tried to take my own life for reasons I do not remember now. It was also where I explored the surrounding area with my friends, bicycling and trekking in the mountains, swimming in the river and doing many more exploits of similar kind, usual for a teenager.

I was all of 11 years old when we moved to Karad, and was admitted in the 8^th standard at the Tilak High School, which was about a mile from home, a distance I used to walk merrily with friends everyday. The School building was quite old, in typical british pattern of stone walls and verandahs enclosing a large courtyard where we had our morning prayers led by the Principal, who looked like the First President of India, Dr. Rajendra Prasad, with his bushy white moustache, white dress and Gandhi cap.

We lived in a rented house, like most of the lower middle-class families at the time. The house had high compound wall with a central door leading to the front courtyard, and was divided in two parts, one for us and the other larger portion belonged to the landlord. The front courtyard had a large champak tree in the centre, and also had a common loo and a bathroom on one side. We had two rooms, the outer just enough to accommodate a folding bed, two chairs and a small cupboard. The inner room was slightly bigger and was used as kitchen, also had an open washing place, and a door leading into the rear common courtyard, which had a banana tree and scores of other plants all using the waste-water from kitchen. As I now realise, it was a model of a sustainable household, with almost no waste, and the only services we used were water supply from the city mains and electricity from the grid.

My father had purchased a big radio in Kolhapur, which was placed on top of the cupboard in the outer room, with its indoor antenna in the form of a wire-mesh about 4” wide and almost 10’ long spread all across the room at top. It was an extravagance on the part of my father, as its cost was more than double his monthly salary at the time, but my father did not bother about such things when it came to things he really fancied. I remember going to dramas with the entire household (we were 5) and the tickets were really way above what we could afford, as I realise now. He never spared expenses when it came to school-books, dresses and many such items, and I remember suggesting him once to buy second-hand books to save money, but he would have none of it.

We lived in an area called Dubal Galli in Shukrawar Peth, and here I faced a lot of bullies who would call me names, curse me for no reason and throw stones at me when I was not looking, and it was difficult to pass the road without something or the other happening almost every day to school. Once one of them caught hold of my schoolbag and ran away with it. I told my father about it and he ran after him, but couldn’t catch him. After this episode, I found out an alternate route to school and never had to face them again. The lane was actually famous for a very different reason, as it had a house belonging to the late Home Minister of India, Hon’ble Yashawantrao Chavan, and I remember once going to the place when he visited and joining the crowd of the visitors to have a look at him. He was a very simple person, who met and listened to all visitors earnestly before replying. I managed to get an autograph from him, and should have saved it for posterity, but can’t find it anywhere now.

Aurangabad-Early days 02

Jayanta used to live in a small two room apartment in the Rokadiya Hanuman Colony near Kranti Chowk with a few of his friends and I joined the gang. My interview for the post went well; there were no other contenders, but I distinctly remember the enormous office of the Vice-Chancellor of the University who took my interview, and bargained down my salary to Rs. 475.00 instead of the promised Rs. 500.00, but having no experience in such matters, I accepted the offer and joined the Office of the Deputy Architect to Government.

I was an odd man out in the office, as I was an employee of the Marathwada University, and supposed to work only on the University projects and reported directly to the head. But he was a busy person having a large number of Government projects, and had hardly any time to work on the University projects, with the result I was having virtually  no work, and was eagerly waiting for an opportunity to start my own practice with the UD-6 projects I had been promised. I did not have to wait for long. In the first week itself Jayanta told me that the Municipal Council at Sailu in Parbhani Dist. was interested in carrying out some of the UD-6 projects, and I set out for place which is a 3 hour journey by road from Aurangabad.

It was at Sailu that I met Advocate Kharkar, the President of the Municipal Council, who was later to act as my patron and set a direction to my practice. He had participated in the freedom struggle and was in politics for the ideologies he believed in, and was an intelligent and thoroughly honest man. Given the practical side of his profession I sometimes wonder how he could have had such a flourishing practice, and that too, in a small town like Sailu.

When I met him for the UD-6 projects, he already had his ideas about them and was very specific about the outcome. I prepared the entire set of project drawings in a week and when I went back to discuss them, Mr. Kharkar asked to give a presentation to the entire Council. My presentation was applauded by most of the members and I was told that my proposal was accepted without any change.

The only issue to be settled was the terms. I was too young (twenty-two and half years) and inexperienced in this matter, so was Mr. Kharkar who drafted my agreement with the Council, taking care to secure my interests as well as those of the Council. He asked me whether there were any norms and I gave him a copy of the IIA norms on which he based the agreement. (Norms prepared by the Indian Institute of Architects were the only ones available at the time. This was in the year 1977, the Council of Architecture norms came much later in 1989)

That started a professional relationship which lasted for almost fifteen years, and looking back, I think that it these projects which defined my architectural career. I had complete freedom in the design, the only things I was questioned about were the other technical issues like volumetric details, cost and execution. But this freedom also meant that I had to do a thorough research before making any proposal, browsing through a variety of norms, standards and so on. This process was to become a standard practice for me in my professional career, and paved the way for my teaching career eventually.

Aurangabad-Early Days-01

One of the first things I remember about Aurangabad is my unplanned stay at one of the cheaper hotels near the bus stand, which had beds like a dormitory and you had to keep your valuables for safekeeping with the hotel manager; there being no lockable cupboards. As I had no valuables to carry, that was not an issue; all that my luggage consisted was a small bag with bare minimum clothes. I do remember wondering all the night whether I had done the right thing in believing Jayanta, that this was the land of opportunity.

I went to Aurangabad by sheer chance. Jayant Pandit, my classmate from JJ was working in the department of Town Planning there. He had been to Solapur where I talked about opportunities for starting my own practice, and he had painted a rosy picture of how there were projects for taking in the whole of Marathwada region. Being in the Department of Town Planning, he had some valuable inside information.

At the time, the State Government used to finance the Municipal Councils under the UD-6 scheme for implementing the Development Plans, and huge sums of money were allocated for this purpose. However, as there were very few technical consultants available, leave alone the architects, most of the Municipal Councils in the Marathwada Region were unable to submit any proposals, and the funds were under-utilized, creating a problem of sorts for the Department of Town Planning, where Jayant worked. He saw an opportunity to start architectural practice here, but could not think of leaving the job to do it. So he thought of asking me to start the practice if I was willing to take the risk. He also found a temporary job for me in the Public Works Department (PWD).

Very few people are aware that there is a Department of Architecture attached to the PWD, but it is very much there, and it has regional offices, headed by an Architect (called the Deputy Architect to Government), who is in charge of providing architectural services for all PWD projects. The one in Aurangabad had recently taken up the task of providing architectural services to the Marathwada University projects, on the condition that the University would provide an assistant for doing all the drafting work, and it was this position that was advertised, and for which I had to give an interview.

I was told that the job was purely temporary and carried a salary of Rs. 500.00 per month - a good offer compared to my then salary at V. T. Kota & Associates of Rs. 425.00 per month. This was my first attempt at any formal interview for a job. I had got the earlier job at with Architect V. T. Kota, by just declaring that I have finished my course and was willing to work. This was OK as I had worked in vacations in his office earlier, and he knew me and my work. Facing an interview in an unknown city  was  totally different matter. But the prospect of independent practice was attractive and hence I decided to resign and caught the bus to Aurangabad.

However, Jayanta failed to materialise even after promising me to pick me up from the bus-stand, and I had no option but to seek a shelter somewhere for the night, convinced that Jayanta was kidding me about the whole affair, and that I must go back the next day. Next day, I remembered that I had a distant cousin settled at Aurangabad after her marriage, and I decided to pay a visit before going back. As luck would have it, after listening to my story, her husband helped me to find Jayanta's office, and I finally met him. If that had not happened, I would not have settled at Aurangabad at all.  

One Year at Nanded City

The starting point was rather uninspiring. We shifted to the Nanded City flat only as a stop-gap arrangement when Pranav, Amruta and Nishant came over from USA, and this flat was ready and in our possession. We were all too aware of it being in the wilderness, what with only a handful of people living in the large 700 acre Township under construction, and the distance from the main gate to the apartment building was a whooping 3 kms. There was no public transport within the Township area, and we had only one car - I had sold off my own car when Pranav went to US leaving his car behind.

Nanded City at the time had absolutely no facilities except for water & electricity, and you had to bring almost everything from outside. Fortunately, Pranav & Amruta, having lived in Jacksonville for the last six years, were used to a similar set-up. There was also the small convenience shopping lot near the apartment block with one grocery shop, one selling milk and milk-products, and the third one selling ice-cream and coffee. The fourth shop was taken up by a curtain-maker-indicating that the people had just started coming in because the first thing you need in a new flat-more than anything else-is curtains for privacy. And nowhere else this was more important than Nanded city where most of the flats were designed to have a good look at each other's bedrooms. Incidentally nobody in India knows that architects have anything to do with housing-no builder ever mentions the name of his architect in his advertisements -so it is not really surprising that people are not aware of mistakes made by the architects in design.

As a long-standing teacher in architecture, every year I have delivered a series of lectures on the aspects of privacy in design of housing, and have hoped to make an impact in the future design of housing through its implementation-but students seldom listen to your lectures anyway. Then again, the major advantage in architectural profession is that you never have to live or work in the buildings you design. For most of the buildings that you design, you only need to have a few photographs-mostly taken from outside-to impress your next set of clients-who are typically builders-and interested in the external visual image of the building to help sell it to gullible buyers-they would never even dream of living in them.

So a flat buyer has to fend for himself dealing with all the commissions & omissions of the architect-but while you can manage the interior spaces & most of your old furniture in your new flat, the curtains have to be tailor-made for the windows of the new apartment. Moreover the typical design of the flats in Nanded city-designed for good views of your neighbour's bedrooms, made provision of curtains almost mandatory.

On way to San Francisco

After coming back from the second USA visit, I was wondering whether there would be any point in going back for the third visit. USA is a young nation, and there is not a single organically developed settlement anywhere. In my first visit, I had been around even through the smaller roads, which went through very small settlements, but all of them had the look of being formally planned along the main high-way. The smaller towns and villages are all alike-you have the main village road with all restaurants and shops, and then all the rest is low-rise housing. Everywhere you go, you meet a similar townscape. It is only when you visit the big cities that the skylines are different, but there too, you have very little variety. Housing in most places is mostly low-rise, with the typical European/British style, built in wood with sloping roofs and large windows-and this has nothing to do with the climate. The style is mixed, Gothic windows with verandahs in renaissance columns, and many combinations of the european/british vintage. So if you have seen one american city, you have seen them all.

Then again, the journey from Mumbai to any place in USA even by plane, is arduous (it takes about 36 to 40 hours door to door) and has always made me wonder how Srinivas gets the energy to carry on all these years. He being an IBM employee, travels by business class, and may have been able to stretch his legs a bit more on the long-haul flights, but it is a tiresome journey, and to top it all, he is supposed to do some work at the end of all that travel.

The only redeeming feature of this kind of travel is that you acquire a bit of edge over people who have never made such trips, and may be able to show off a bit, but finding such people (at least in Pune) is becoming difficult these days, what with almost every other household has a Son or a Daughter (in many cases-both) in some or the other part of USA. Marathi can no longer act as a code language in any of these trans-Atlantic flights and you generally tend to find people who have been doing these flights much longer than you have ever done.

But Mrunalini was quite insistent, and we buckled under the pressure. And anyway, I had always had the urge to see San Francisco, right from the day we saw a mock-up of one of its street views in Orlando. It is a favourite location for Hollywood, with streets sloping in almost an impossible fashion, which is actually the result of putting a straight grid-iron pattern layout on a hilly ground. In some cases the slopes are so steep that the footpaths have steps and you keep wondering whether all those cars parked along the street can stay that way all night.

So it happened that we planned the third trip, and made it this far. Incidentally, we came via Zurich, which is a very straight-forward and easily navigable air-port. On the second trip, we had a stop-over at Paris, and the Charles De Gaulle Airport is a nightmare for the occasional traveler. It is built in stages, has a series of curved terminal buildings which are connected by an underground railway, and after making what seemed to be a correct choice at the time, we got off at the wrong end of the terminal E, and were cheerfully re-directed by the security people. Taking the train back in search of our boarding gate, when we finally reached it, the staff was in the process of closing-we could have easily missed our flight to Atlanta that day.

So when Pranav told me that there would be a stop-over of 6 hours at Zurich, I thought we had made a good decision. Not only we would have sufficient time to find the terminal, we would be able to have some breakfast and wander about a bit, both of which we had missed at Paris earlier. But the Zurich experience turned out to be an anti-climax. After reaching the air-port, which was virtually empty save our own flight, I found out that the incoming and outgoing flights would be operating out of the same terminal. So in a matter of minutes we were at the departure gate. There was virtually nobody around, and all the shops on the terminal were closed. True, it was 6.30 in the morning, but like a railway station, you normally expect the airport terminal to function 24x7. Probably the Swiss had never heard of this. The terminal had a laid back look, and all around the airport you could only see the sleepy hills, and not a soul around. It felt like we had come to a holiday destination when nobody was expected - something that happens when you arrive at Mahabaleshwar in the rainy season.

I also located a deserted smoking lounge, and toyed with the idea of smoking, but had packed all my stock in the checked-in baggage, and there was not a single shop open at the terminal where I could buy cigarettes. So when the duty-free shop opened I was the first one in, only to be told that you can only buy a minimum of ten packs, and that put me off. So finally I settled on a cappuccino at the inflated rate of $7.00, but the fellow at the kiosk said the change shall only be in swiss franks, which I had no use for, so I settled for some cookies at an additional price of $3.00 and gave him the $10 bill, and that was that.

Still, there was a lot of time on my hand, and wandering about I located a kiosk at the airport which promised a free internet for one hour-all set-up with laptops. It was thus I checked my email and sent message to Pranav that we had arrived safely at Zurich and were on our way to SF without any hassle. I even logged on to my facebook page, something that I do very rarely, but found nothing much to comment about except for the fact that we were at Zurich. Finally, around 10.30 am, people started coming in and the terminal was full, and after waiting interminably for the boarding announcement, we boarded at about 12.50 pm.

The flight from Zurich to San Francisco was uneventful, and almost like Zurich, when we landed, ours was the only incoming flight and virtually no queue at the immigration desk. We were outside in a matter of minutes again, and in fact had to wait for Mrunalini & Saurabh for some time. The weather was pleasant and the fresh air smelled exactly like what I had experienced at Jacksonville, when we made the first trip to USA. So here we were, all set for yet another visit to the New world.

Back to square one

This has been so long in coming. It looked as if it was only yesterday that the house was full of people, with so much of confusion and chaos everywhere in the house that I could not find a single thing, and Nishant moving all through the mess as if it was some kind of game.

But I think we should now get used to all this quiet. We started the family with only two of us, and then with Pranav & Mrunal, and now both have their life-partners, have moved out and we are back to where we started-just the two of us.

But this time there is a lot of difference-there is a constant reminder here of people who should be here but aren't. On the dashboard of my laptop, the US East coast timer is on, my mobile has weather forecast for Jacksonville & New York, and hurricane Sandy had a larger presence in our lives than would seem logical.

Of course the life is easier with gadgets, we can see & hear across all this distance through internet. But the first time I saw Nishant on Skype, I could not forget that there was about 20000 miles seperating us, and all I was seeing in front of me was a digital image - devoid of the sense of touch & smell. All this was make-believe-something like what you see in cinema.