Whose facade is it, anyway?

Our sutradhaars, Sir Pheroze and Lady Flora are appalled at the turn of events last week that lead to an unrecognisable avatar of Bandra fort

Sir PM was poring over an open book at the top of a pile that sat precariously on one of the pews inside St Thomas Cathedral; Lady Flora had spotted him from afar as she stepped inside the landmark. These days, the friends chose to keep their adda sessions indoors, and had discontinued their strolls, given the menacing thundershowers and evening rain that was having a longish spell in the city. Not to forget the condition of the roads that had made matters worse.

“Pheroze, what’s gotten all your attention? Is there a submission or a project that you’re working on?” asked Lady Flora. She couldn’t think of any pressing, urgent issue. Sir PM slowly looked up to his friend; she noticed a few worry-lines and hints of frustration all over his face. “Why so serious? What’s bothering you? Hope it’s not bad news…” Sir PM removed his spectacles and rested them on the open book. “Cousin Sohrab couldn’t believe his ears when he heard the news. It happened so quickly that even his ever-alert neighbour, Russi, missed this one. And what a big miss it was…” Sir PM’s tone was tinged with sadness. “They got to it, finally. And that too, in the name of a public service facility or something like that.” The suspense was killing Lady Flora. “Out with it now, Pheroze. What is such a huge problem that seems to have affected you and your Bandra-residing cousin and his neighbour?” she demanded. “Bandra fort has been changed forever. That 17th century fort that was built on the rocky promontory near today’s Bandstand has been given a ‘makeover’ [he used his fingers to depict that much-debated word in single-inverted commas] by our civic authorities. The original, historic stone façade has been plastered over; and a few other interventions have also happened, I am afraid. Cousin Sohrab caught wind of it awfully late. If only Russi had not been preoccupied watching cricket all day on the telly,” Sir PM sighed as the last sentence rolled out.

Lady Flora’s face turned white. “I’m speechless. The Castella de Aguada remains one of my favourite sea-facing locations in the city. I remember back in the day, when I first landed on the island, heading to Bandra made for a lovely weekend sojourn. And the fort was always the first halt when we crossed Mahim Bay. And now you tell me that it’s become an eyesore. Why was this done without any supervision, given its historic significance?” She argued. Sir PM didn’t have all the answers but tried his best to discuss the matter with his fellow heritage custodian. “Based on the facts revealed in this newspaper, those who engineered this change claim that only natural material was used in the restoration, and there was no artificial colour involved—given the drastic change in the appearance of the façade. Apparently, works are as per the consultant’s advice. Honestly, I need to see it in person before I pass judgement,” shared Sir PM, his legal eye coming into play. 

“All these explanations sound valid, Pheroze, but my query is at a different level. Why weren’t reputable conservation architects from the city who’ve done some fabulous work across its heritage landmarks and sites, and applauded by the likes of prestigious platforms like UNESCO, roped in to oversee this historically critical city landmark? I have just wrapped up reading Charles Correa’s biography, and it is a revelation. Back in his time, it was common for people in power to invite respected and visionary architects and urban planners to design key landmarks across the country. It baffles me to think why such practices have ceased to be, especially in our city that’s blessed with brilliant minds who care for its heritage,” she reasoned, adding, “In this case, what’s done is done. At least, there needs to be some justification with thorough documentation. Answers must be ready and backed by solid, researched-backed data.”

Sir PM gestured to his friend to see a few images of the fort from before this recent intervention. “Russi is drowning his sorrows, one Patiala peg after another, at the club. He cannot believe he’d be alive to see this day. He, like you had some of his fondest memories by the fort— first date with Sooni…you get the drift. There was a time when the promenade near the fort hosted bands who would play live music, hence the name Bandstand; aapro Byramjee Jeejeebhoy must be sad too at this turn of events,” he reminisced.

Both continued to leaf through images of bygone Bandra from a set of dusty books. Lady Flora halted to say her two-bit, “It baffles me that Bombaywallahs continue to become mute spectators. An increasing number of projects seem to have been signed off without their consent. I hope they remember such acts when it’s time to ink their fingers in the next elections.” Sir PM looked skyward, whispering a prayer and hoping for some divine intervention. 

mid-day’s Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city’s sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana

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