adheems wedding version 2

this one at the church in the st francis xavier school in parle west. i remember going there with amit two years back. churches are in a sense oppressive spaces. dominating from the outside and all austere on the inside. or almost so. the inside of this one had a white marble floor with a red carpet like a river of blood running through the center. the act of the service is an act of submission to a higher power, the synchronized call and responses predetermined and choreographed to perfection (and completely incomprehensible to the uninitiated) replicate every minute a certain commonality that represses individual eccentricity.. or so at least it seemed to me. the symbolism of purity and sacrifice that is rampant in the texts and even in the architecture of the building is powerful and a little scary. a crucifix hung from the ceiling above the heads of adheem and sharon as the priest extolled the virtues of marriage for a minute before decimating the myth of santa claus as part of the service. adheem looked handsome and sharon lovely in her white flowing gown. sunita maushi, apurva and chaitra had worn these dresses for the occasion, while sharons rather cool very well pierced family had turned out dapper in their suits. akshay, rishabh, dad, dharmu mama all work jackets and blazers.

adheem and me outside the church

after the church wedding we dropped into college for a few minutes to see the students clambering to finish pinning up the exhibition and then went to the venue for the reception. organized by the christian half of the union it was a real blast. the mc made sexist jokes about the marriage, spoke in the fake accent that is the hallmark of hosts pre-american television. a wedding cake was a complicated affair with two green lawns connected by a elaborate bridge of icing upon which best men and bridesmaids formed a frame for a statue of a happily married couple. a fountain sputtered below them. akshay, rishabh and me had our own versions of the meaning of this concoction. the rest of the evening was like a collection of christian wedding formulas- each of which was more enjoyable than the other. the columbia pictures music announcing the entry of the bride and the groom, the bread and red wine, the confetti, the two red hearts that hung over the dancefloor, the chicken dance, the ‘put your right hand in’ thing, the speeches by the best man and the bridesmaid, and the wild wild dancing .. which we were all a part of. all weddings should be like this.

adheem waits

sharon walks down the aisle

adheem and sharons parents

sunita maushi

sharons dad

the wedding cake

the speeches by the best man and the bridesmaid

the dancefloor

the first couple

lifted by friends

posing in front of the cake

adheems wedding / cousins – national and international

adheem got married hindu style yesterday in a white and pink pandal behind mocha at juhu. the halogens made a sweaty lawn as the sea breeze blew over the top and made no impact at ground level. the kids camp- cousins form around the world. rishabh back from singapore, apurva from the usa and akshay from miami, nikhil from powai, meghana and anand from borivili slipped out in between to sea view. beer and conversation over a crowded beach continued until the moms descended there too. poor rishabh tried to hide his drink. it did not work.

today is the big christian wedding at st xaviers church, vile parle.

apurva, pramod mama and akshay

anuja and anand

akshay and rishabh

chinmaya

apurva and meghana at sea view

dharavi

siddharth making the presentation

it seems mumbai is on the international developmental radar as never before. with high real estate prices, lots of possibilities for markets and loans, everyone and their mother seems to have a stake in the city. and nowhere are the stakes more apparent than in the developmental and architectural world. as white skins of all variety seem to walk the streets (or rather hop through the five star hotels) of the city each group seems to have a fabulous solution for the ills of the city- each one more grand than the other.

meanwhile the state seems to be paying a great deal of attention to these proposals and paying none at all to the ground conditions that these grand schemes aim to replace – whole heartedly. enamored by the images of the spanking new the existing is made to have no presence at all in these new cities. this has been plaguing us in the school for a long time now and is becoming more and more apparent in the fights that we have been having over the design cell projects. the schools cess proposal, the big debate over transit oriented development proposals and fsi- all seem to be our ways of beginning to resist these mad inhuman proposals. and then there are those professionals who, eager to lick white ass and completely surrender to these forces, offer no critique at all – and on the other hand fully participate in facilitating them. they are perhaps the most dangerous of all. we hope that we don’t make too many of them.

today in the school we had the big dharavi presentation. this is a design cell project where are working with local community groups to develop a master plan for the redevelopment of dharavi that emerges from an understanding of the local. i don’t know how many you know about the infamous 'mukesh mehta plan' that has been as of now accepted by the state government. the proposal in essence treats dharavi as a blank slate and using an fsi of 4 clears large tracts of land for bandra kurla complex style commercial development. there is absolutely no cognizance of local work and living patterns or historical fabrics. communities are sliced into to create land for fancy glass clad buildings that can be sold at enormous rates. the people of dharavi have rebelled violently against this plan.

the fourth year has been working hard on this project finding real data and doing intense mapping on the site. this was presented to the local community groups and their leaders today. we were very worried of possible animosity and about the chemistry between the groups but it turned out quite well. the students had done a great job of the presentation and it helped convince even the skeptical of our intentions.

now that the project has begun and since we want to base it on a hands on real possibility lets see what kind of plan will emerge.

the meeting

vinita at the base of the huge aerial view of the slum

as an aside i thought i will include some of the other proposals recently made by architecture schools in the us and in britain for mumbai- both atrocious and incredibly disturbing. in the sci-arc proposal the city is submerged displacing everybody, and in the aa proposal for dharavi atrocious towers are built hovering over the slum cutting off light and ventilation for the entire population. i don’t know whether this is speculation, a joke, a crime or just plain stupidity and arrogance, but if one is not to get angry by this nonsense then what is one supposed to feel? both proposals do not want to deal with the real lives of the people affected and therefore choose to be superficial and pretend 'creativity'. and these schools are where many of our students and faculty have masters from. the orientalisation of the oriental. i am still reeling.

this is sci-arc.. flooding the city and making "testicular architecture" for the rehabilitation. science fiction and disaster movie- is it a wonder that the school is near hollywood.

and this is aa, london. towers over dharavi - the slums below it would seem need no light, no air- no life.

images courtesy – sahil via ninad.

summary post

tomorrow is the first day of the annuals. from the 15^th to the 22^nd the school is going to be a chaos of workshops, films screenings, exhibitions, publications.. on the 21^st edward soja delivers his lecture and on the 22^nd the valedictory along with the culturals. there are four workshops - a writing workshop by kaiwan, a painting workshop by sau, adi and ranz; a projections / film making workshop by shilpa gupta and a building technology workshop by amisha and vidya.

all of these and the big dharavi studio were the themes of today. ninad, pau, rupali, dipti, me and the students gathered today at dharavi to meet local players in the grand drama of the redevelopment. the terrain is contested and full of mines everywhere we turn. tomorrow is the big design charette with correa, prabhu, sparc, nsdf, korde and many other local representatives, along with our faculty and students attempting to develop a common platform for an alternative plan for the slum. we will be glad if all of us don’t tear each others eyes out by the end of the day. then there was the publication that needed that i go deliver a new cd to the prnters at byculla; and in the midst of all this workshop preparations and exhibition organizing. it is dizzying sometimes, but the tumult begins tomorrow and we will see how it turns out – for better or worse.

and now for some photos from the past few days

manoj before his encounter yesterday - finally got to see his work!

pre-annuals madness as water balloons are thrown on the participants as part of the treasure hunt - dont ask how...

at crit discussing the emerging urbanism conference yesterday. rupali, ubaid, prasad and sonal

at jak printers today in byculla lovely antique printing machines

byculla with is large industrial complexes and vibrant though decrepit chawls outside.

ninad, paul and rupali after todays discussion

'enthu cutlets'

i realized what total twerp i was when i was 19 when today i saw mukuls tv shows- the shows that he conceptualized, scripted, hosted and co-edited for delhi doordarshan at the grand old age of 17 to 19. ‘childrens shows’ they were called and a bespectacled muki spoke in the stilted flowery way that was so common to the genre in front of those flat lit curtained or fake interior sets. the shows were on the glory of indian heritage, or the amazing possibilities of computers, or a genius delhi boy solving a complex puzzle or on the magic of western classical music. poor mukul seemed really embarrassed when we were watching these together. i dont see why... they were so earnest and sincere.

i do discern a tongue firmly in cheek as i type these and i must slap myself for this cynicism. who the hell am i to say anything? at the age of 17 while mukul had the guts to go ahead with what he was passionate about i was a silly little self obsessed shy thin pointless boy with absolutely no sense of self. even the other people in the shows- the precocious young boys and girls (anasuya- you too) were astonishing with their confidence and articulateness. in such company i used to shrivel up and fade into the background when i was younger, as i felt too inadequate to be seen. even today i seem to be surrounded by these brilliant young minds that make me constantly consider and reconsider things that i might in my senility have taken for granted.

yesterday i wrote adityas letter of recommendation, today ateyas, last month ninads and now tomorrow saurabh. they are all in their mid-twenties and are bustling bundles of energy and intelligence. ‘enthu cutlets’ is what vidya calls the type. all of them are heading for their masters next year. and hopefully will be back soon. meanwhile, will there be more of these mad minds that keep us all on the edge.. we sure hope so.

nostalgia – sonal and me

this photograph was probably taken in amravati on oone of our holidays there. sweet brother/sister photograph.. but what clothes!

sky captain and the world of tomorrow

this film in which in sepia tinted over-shadowy murky frames jude law and gwenyth pawltrow sleep walk their way through a tall tale of evil germans trying to destroy the world but not before sending all creatures of the earth out into the stratosphere by a rocket fired from the heart of nepal. shangri-la it seems is this place. its overdone, but i guess that’s the point… its woodenly acted out.. but i guess that’s the point.. its all rather ridiculous.. but that is also supposed to be the point.. but was it supposed to be as boring as it was? and what was angelina jolie doing wearing and eye patch and a fake british accent suddenly in the middle of the film?

not quite salsa

after a long time i spent time in the afternoon in college just hanging around surrounded by the chatter and energy of the students. it is pre-annual week and there was a so-called salsa workshop in the auditorium. my partner was poor aparna who had to deal with me constantly trying to get away from the dancefloor and hide in some corner to watch. the so-called salsa soon devolved into an out and out bollywood ball with our three tattooed, singlet wearing, bandannaed instructors doing choreographed dancing on the stage while we stood and applauded. salsa as back later on in the day but by then i had decided to leave. so i left – but not before having a slice of rutwiks birthday cake. chocolate. the rest of the cake went on his face.

aparna - my partner

our instructors making their moves - or is it showing us their moves?

saki and sawant

paras and supriya

rutwiks birthday

the prestige

the number of reflections in christopher nolans new film about the parallel lives of two rival magicians in 1890s london is mind boggling. there are mirrors and doubles everywhere you turn refracting and reflecting loves, hatreds, passions and ambitions. a film about destroying the person who hate by becoming him, capturing and making your own what was his, by stealing and assuming identities and in the process losing your own; about the line that lies between truth and fiction and our perpetual need to lie in between it.

the maze of mirrors is further maddened by the complex flashback structure that seems to be nolans forte. its all great fun throughout as mysteries are revealed and tricks are unmasked. but the real trick is when at the end nolan turns the mirror on the audience and makes them an integral part of the trick of the film. he even makes the inevitably ordinary end an essential part of the story. when the solution to such a great mystery was so simple it makes us wonder why we expected more? were we not wanting more.. magic perhaps? the trick, i assume, is to keep us there on the edge of the mirror between fact and fiction constantly trying to outguess the other, hoping that somehow somewhere there is more to hope for- something unpredictable by science as we know it.. god perhaps?

nostalgia - photo studio in amravati

when i was two years old. bewildered. i lived in amravati for the first few years of my life - away from my parents who were working in bombay. i was in the care of my grandparents. this photograph was taken in a studio in amravati.

annuals around the corner.

annual madness as usual
the dharavi studio in the morning finally began with people from sparc and the entire fourth year. it might be a logistic nightmare with 40 students, 10 people from sparc, 4 from the design cell, maybe someone from charles correas office, 5 faculty members from school and the innumerable community members and leaders all trying to put together one plan for the slum.
then a meeting with the student council, part time and full time faculty about the event list for the annuals- workshops, exhibitions, lecture series, publications, posters, stage and mikes, etc. all need to be followed up now that they have begun.
and then of course the usual - markings of fourth year students, trauma about fsi, finishing writing briefs and texts for reflections. it is all very hyperactive. whoever said a teachers life is staid and predictable was crazy.

birthday letters. through a glass darkly

ted hughes never addressed the accusations of feminists and followers of his brilliant poet wife sylvia plath who claimed he had driven her to suicide. reportedly they scratched his name off her grave and booed him off stage on his tours. ‘birthday letters’ released the year of his death is his response.

the poems are like vividly remembered fragments of a life together. there is no apology (almost) – it is perhaps rightly assumed that it is not necessary – for whom does he have to answer to? the memories are searing like red hot embers. the poems follow the relationship between Hughes and plath like a distorted mirror - from the time that he sees the photograph of the years’ fulbright scholars among whom she was one, to the trips to different continents where distances and differences tear at the love that held them together, to her eventual death.

i respect hughes act of deference of the unavoidable act of voicing his piece in the sylvia plath suicide story until the year that he died. the bestseller lists had to wait for a long time to know about his side of the story.

what rescues the book from sinking into sentimentality and / or self justification is the alternate irony and anger, affection and bewilderment as he addresses her already dead –asking her why / reminding her when / telling her who.. like he is talking to her as if she is sitting there in person, in front of him, waiting for him on the other side.

how does one begin to look at ones own life as a work of art. what bridges art and life? biography as an art form? Or life as an art form?

in bergmans ‘through a glass darkly” a father toys with the idea of documenting the gradual disintegration of his daughter to mental illness as an act of love. perhaps – for him, a novelist, everything is a subject. his work makes him an armor; language provides him a safe space from by which his own life gains exotica.

karins mind is lunging between a reality where she is surrounded by love and her delusions where everyone is waiting in stillness for a god who finally turns up in the incarnation of a giant spider.

there are three men in this house on the edge of the ocean besides karin each having a strained but love-filled relationship with karin. there is the brother with the odd incestuous undertow to the filial love, the lover whose self-sacrificial martyrdom seems suspicious and the father caught between art and real life. the delusions are all around, each man making his own to be able to carry on living as is considered normal.

space inventory – springfield restaurant / horniman circle / kalina university / dharavi / mm hospital

spring field restaurant bovili east. dinner on sunday evening. dizzying internal space wit recreation of flowers and trees in painted plywood tables and china mosaic work on the walls. the frosted glass doors had celebratory icons of glasses and fruit floating in abstract geometries. above us a dark green sun sent out yellow rays and above that a misty blue sky false ceiling with amoebic cloud simulating cut outs. the waiter had green jackets on. a pure vegetarian bar.

monday began with a drive into the town office of the aiilsg where we spoke of slum free cities all over india. the office is on the third floor of one of the botawala buildings that circle horniman circle right near the town hall. the internal well of the building has this run down ornate elevator with cobwebs on all its corners, a mirror with a comb on a string for people to set their hair as they climb and a liftman who keeps reading his marathi newspaper oblivious of who is in the elevator.

from there we went to kalina university where in corridors hep dressed boys and girls waited among piles and piles of dot matrix printed pre punched sheets to meet some one of the many rude swaggering clerks who control their destinies. the building is a rotting modern atrocity built like a maze – perhaps an appropriate way to house a bureaucracy that’s lost all touch with its purpose. state education can only be housed in these rotting carcasses. unfortunately. from the empty land of the university there is a great view of the bandra kurla complex glass buildings waiting to encroach on this land.

in dharavi we had a meeting about the design cell and fourth year design project. the students are going to be introduced to the area on thursday. we needed to know how. at sparc’s office on the ground floor of a slum rehab building on the main road we sat in the shadow of the large aerial photograph of the slum slicing it into manageable areas to survey. follow roads, don’t follow community patterns. maybe they are related- maybe not. then we took a long walk to muslim nagar where houses pile on top of houses and no edge is discernable from one to the other. the densities are unimaginable. hw do we begin to count? if “counting is a political act”.

today morning, mom had to be admitted to the hospital for her long delayed operation. mm hospital in i c colony where the general ward was still under construction and the smell of paint was all around. we waited in the waiting area on the first floor with the cheap chinese tiles on the floor and ceiling. white with streaks of pink and blue repeating in an endless pattern across the surface. a band of wood patterned vinyl formed the edge between the municipal off white of the walls and the monotony of the tile work.

mom is there in the hospital still recovering from the anesthesia. she will be back home in an hour or so. i did not go to college today and am typing away waiting for dad to call so that i can go pick her up.

weird dream #923a

analyse this..

my entire family and friends stand outside in a dark shadow and stare at a forest trapped inside a barbed wire fence. a dark brown shingled house can be seen, almost like an illustration from a book of russian fairy tales through the bushes and trees within the forest.

aaji wants to show us around the house - i guess it must be the family home- but the only guide that we have is yoko ono. yoko ono opens the gate into the forest and we follow her in single file as aaji gives us historical incidents that occurred in the different spaces.

thomas and me walk beyond the house following yoko ono and she tells us that up ahead if we continue we will get to the water. thomas and me continue down the path that starts climbing. it is pitch dark and in the light of some strange vehicles headlights i see a mud path leading uphill. suddenly i start running up wildly. thomas follows.

the air is cool and light. as we run suddenly the ground drops on our right and a huge sky is revealed. it is beautiful night sky with millions of stars. exhilarated and laughing i look around and in the darkness slowly i see the silhouettes of houses emerge. dark ominous outlines and i realize the facades of these homes are made of leaves. they are huge dark green facades with blackened windows. beautiful.

riot

the question is this.. unless buses burnt in bhandup did we bother to know about a dalit woman being raped and murdered in nagpur? or were we too busy reading about abhishek bachchan and aishwarya rai going to benaras because they were both manglik.