An architect’s research work that stems from his life at Datta Mandir Wadi foresees the redevelopment of Girgaon’s tenements as an opportunity to retain social spaces where life plays out, and aajis keep watch
Vaidya mentions the presence of two “aajis” who played the role of surveillance cameras in his growing up years in Datta Mandir Wadi. “Our chawl never needed CCTV cameras... Aajis seated in a distinct corner, painstakingly kept a watch on the children playing in the courtyard.” Pics/Shadab Khan
The odd H-shaped sprawling Datta Mandir Wadi in Girgaon is among the 80-odd chawls, which stands the test of time in an era of real estate makeovers. It is not that its residents—65 residential units and 17 commercial establishments split into three wings—haven’t been approached by builders with a redevelopment plan. But the inhabitants haven’t yet arrived at a consensus over carpet area allocations and other math of a particularly zigzag 2,185 sqm plot. Thanks to the presence of three temples, which cannot be touched because of their religious significance—Dakshinmukhi Hanuman Mandir, Swayambhu Datta Mandir as well as Shiva Mandir, no builder has as yet drawn up a renovation plan for the chawl. These non-movable deities have so far stopped the redevelopment of the chawl cluster built in 1872.
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“We call it the curious case of Datta Mandir Wadi. We feel our chawl cluster is beyond valuation,” says Mihir Vaidya, a resident who just presented his graduate programme thesis titled, Reintegrating Chawl Culture in the New Development of Girgaon. A student of the IES College of Architecture in Bandra, currently pursuing Masters in Urban Design at School of Planning and Architecture in New Delhi, Vaidya declares at the beginning of his academic dissertation that he intends to study the typology of chawls—derived from chaals in Marathi—as a form of social affordable housing, which once defined the migrant-working class accommodation in Mumbai, particularly the “inner city” of Girgaon.
Apart from his dissertation on integrating chawl culture in the new development of Girgaon, Mihir Vaidya has also started creating a GIS database of his neighbourhood, Datta Mandir Wadi. He also plans to broaden his study by including chawls in Pydhonie, Nagpada, Mazgaon, Kalbadevi and Bhuleshwar
“It is another story that I am a fan of the spatial character of the chaal, which in Marathi means an anklet, and by extension signifies the ever-enveloping vibrant corridor that merges the private and the public into a beautiful indescribable space. But the study is not just about nostalgia about my chawl, which will be demolished eventually. It is an analysis of a built form that fosters community interaction,” says the 23-year-old, whose dissertation was also excerpted in the Journal of the Indian Institute of Architects.
While Vaidya includes childhood memories in his investigation of the community spaces he grew up in, the focus remains on understanding the correlation between “open doors and close-knit households”. He says the absent private sphere in chawls, often perceived as a minus, adds new social skills in people, which the flat system does not ensure in modern hi-tech Mumbai.
Vaidya’s thesis reminded this columnist of the book, The Chawls of Mumbai: Galleries of Life, edited by urban researcher Neera Adarkar, which traces the contribution of chawls to Mumbai’s unique social identity, dating back to pre-Independence times. In fact, the book has an immensely treasurable photo from around 1890, courtesy Pune’s Kesari Library, in which freedom fighter Bal Gangadhar Tilak is seen addressing a meeting during the Ganpati festival in the courtyard of the Shantaram Wadi. Seen in the photo are Mohandas Gandhi and Mohammad Ali Jinnah. The photo is enough to underline the role played by Mumbai’s chawls as homes for many social, national and mass mobilisation movements.
Adarkar’s book minces no words in distinguishing Girgaon wadis from the Girangaon textile mill neighbourhood in Central Mumbai. The former were admittedly dominated by upper caste Hindus (Maharashtrians and Gujaratis) as against the working class housed in Girangaon. That contrast shows till date. Though, undoubtedly, the public spaces in both Girgaon and Girangaon chawls wore a distinct nationalist fervour at the beginning of the 20th century. Adarkar’s book has a foreword by renowned architect-urban planner Charles Correa who praises the elemental chawl design of one-and-two room tenements strung out along an access corridor. Correa says the extended verandah “develops into a very important social space—and within this rigid configuration, a great variety of worlds come into being... because of the vitality of life itself, this iron matrix becomes malleable”.
Interestingly, Mihir Vaidya’s thesis also rests on the malleability of the chawl structure. He celebrates the chawl corridor as an all-purpose, hold-all vibrant colliding space allowing a huge realm of possibilities—children playing hide-and-seek, vendors selling fish, homemakers storing water, matki-fod monitors overseeing the Dahi Kala prep, newspaper readers sharing shock over onion prices and senior citizens sharing post-dinner gyaan.
Vaidya mentions the presence of two “aajis” who played the role of surveillance cameras in his growing up years in Datta Mandir Wadi. “Our chawl never needed CCTV cameras because the two aajis, seated in a distinct corner, painstakingly kept a watch on the children playing in the courtyard. Even as I do my post-graduation in another city, the aajis sit attentively, doing their reporting job religiously all these years,” he fondly adds.
The corridor encourages conversations, which is such an essential part of life. Vaidya says the truth about conversations has not yet dawned on developers/builders, not even in the post-pandemic times. He has closely monitored some of the typical highrise towers in Girgaon, which do not allow collaborative spaces, for example, Dadamaharaj Heights (Khadilkar Marg), Avisha Building (Tatya Gharpure Marg, Mughbat), Mayuresh Apartments (Khadilkar Marg) and even the under-construction Surya Mahal/Chandra Mahal Block (G3 JSS Road, near Girgaon Metro Station).
As per his study, the newly developed housing schemes account for 50 per cent space utilisation for housing, 25 per cent for circulation, 15 per cent for utilities and only 10 per cent for social functions, whereas the wadis of Girgaon allowed 35 per cent for social spaces.
Vaidya acknowledged the fact that common toilet blocks, usually low on hygiene, is one of the negative aspects of the chawl system. However, privately-owned self-contained toilets cannot be the sole reason for abandoning the chawl model. Vaidya feels every chawl should pool its local talent (architects, masons, designers) to take control of its makeover. “When a chawl turns into a high-rise gated tower, residents lose out on community connectivity, which is not healthy in the long-term. We must therefore think of ways to retain some of the positive salient points of the chawl model.”
As per a report of Maharashtra Housing and Area Development Authority (MHADA), there were 13,360 category ‘A’ cessed buildings in Mumbai as of March 2008; these were constructed prior to September 1940, and a majority of chawls—around 5,000—fall in this category. In the last decade, only around 3,000 remain intact, of which 80-odd are in Girgaon. Mihir Vaidya is emotionally invested in them. He has started creating a GIS database of the immediate neighbourhood. He intends to further broaden his study by including the chawls in other parts of Mumbai like Pydhonie, Nagpada, Mazgaon, Kalbadevi and Bhuleshwar, some of which are Grade III Heritage structures.
Vaidya fears the loss of a home, although he is aware of its inevitability. He finds it difficult to accept a future vicinage, which bears no resemblance to his current residence. I can identify with this trepidation, because of my Girgaon connect. While I have only intermittently lived in my ancestral home in Girgaon—the 105-year-old Navalkar Building, near Kennedy Bridge, facing the Royal Opera House—and I am not connected to it on a day-to-day basis, the thought of losing it to a highrise tower complex, disturbs me at odd hours.
Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text. You can reach her at sumedha.raikar@mid-day.com
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