A Place in the Shade

The name Borivali recalls the Zizyphus trees (Bor in Marathi) which were abundant till about ten years ago. Borivali is my hometown, specifically Mandapeshwar or Mt. Poinsur. The place contains varied marks of history.  The 65 million years old landscape with yielded itself in the 5^th Century CE to the chisel marks of the stone carver at Mandapeshwar- a Buddhist era outpost along the Dahisar river.  Perhaps then the Dahisar river flowed closer to the caves. It is said, till the late 1960s, crocodiles apparently resided along the river. Nearby, was an old bridge- perhaps late 17^th Century CE- a lifeline across a river prone to floods. A thousand years ago, monks, wayfarers and merchants camped at Mandapeshwar while negotiating the route between Kanheri and the port of Sopara (present day Nala Sopara). Later, so did the Portguese invaders who came here from Bassein (Vasai) in the mid-16^th century CE, followed by Jesuit priests in the mid-19^th century.  Over the years, Mandapeshwar became Montpazier and then Mt. Poinsur.  

In this setting, Jeevan Bima Nagar, a township built by the Life Insurance Corporation of India between 1974-78 sits on a small hillock. Its slopes gradually merge with the not-too far away mangroves, tidal flats and salt pans. The layout of the colony bears influences of distinct cultures on a now famous and respected architect. It has a Radburn-like Cul-de-sac arrangement which ends into a central green. Like the traditional Indian settlements, there is no boundary wall to the township. The houses and floor plans with cascading terraces and spilt windows visually connect the residents with the existing mango orchard amidst which the majority of buildings were nestled. Contact with nature through an aperture is a design leitmotif here.

While there is no attempt to acknowledge the larger ecology and history in the Masterplan, the architect seems have enjoyed siting buildings on the sloping land. The geometries of the hill and the layout plan gave ample opportunity to demonstrate this. It created interesting possibilities like pedestrian alleys between buildings, split level entrances and a sense of relative high and low elevations which could stimulate a child’s imagination. Dry pitched walls became forts of warring kings and “Chor Police” could be played throughout the colony without having to worry about the main road traffic.

There were no badminton courts or netted cricket pitches. The rain and sun dictated the games of the season. The road was the arena and there were a few mud pockets at places to create the slush so important for football and a beating from your mother. There was no lawn. We had sun-loving hardy grasses in the unassigned spaces between buildings which became small maidans. They also substituted as congregation spaces. There was a creative use of open space, because the intent of the space was not thrust upon its residents by being "landscaped".

One had to learn how to climb trees, how to hit a six that cleared the canopy of the Pangara tree and where that snake hole was, in that culvert. There were wells which became source of water in particularly dry summers (twice) and a silent testimony to the magic of groundwater. Every child had a version of how water came to be in the well. We weren’t yet exposed to the subject of Environmental science.

My grandfather used to take long walks along unpaved trails- a pagdandi.  He would reach out and break a sturdy twig, and the next day I would have my bow. The arrows came from the broomsticks. We aimed to hit our enemy but we also learned to duck and avoid injury. We learned to jump on and tackle where leaves were littered and the banyan roots hung. Today the idea of an unpaved walkway is unpardonable, a safety floor mandatory and a jungle gym necessary.

Somewhere down the line, our parents jobs started paying better. Scooters and cars clogged our cricket pitches. Parking lots overtook our maidans. Buildings acquired compound walls and the space between buildings became filthy backyards. The jaalis unfortunately got built-up, and the window shutters devolved into sliding windows which brought in heat. A naturally cool place, Jeevan Bima Nagar started using air conditioners as the surrounding greens outside the colony gave way to rapid urbanization.  

The Dahisar river too has witnessed a change in relation to the Mandapeshwar Caves.  Today it is about 800 metres further to the east, obscured by a burgeoning Shivaji Nagar Colony. My family's  domestic backbone-Parvati bai- was a construction worker from Satara, who helped build the colony 35 years ago. Today, many like her are indispensible to the families that live in Jeevan Bima Nagar and surrounding colonies. It is where the “other half” of our lives live. They keep their colony clean and wistfully remember when the river used to flood their homes. The landscape has bound different destinies together.

The Maratha-era bridge is now gone, and the tempestuous river lies channelized, till it abates as a tidal estuary and meets the mangroves. The river today has few traces of its bygone picturesque character and is highly polluted with industrial effluents, sewage and stormwater. In recent times it had narrowed down and silted up. After the 2005 Maharashtra floods, where more than a 100 people lost their lives, the local corporation undertook a de-silting and widening project to clean up the river and prevent future flooding. There are occasional stirrings regarding the beautification/ environmental improvement of the river. The caves spring to life on Shivaratri, when the precinct is cleaned and devotees throng to seek blessings. Otherwise, it alternates as a parking lot for autorickshaws and the occasional drunken brawls. There are few interested souls in the Shivaji Nagar slums and surrounding colonies who bother with its heritage status.  The Archeological survey‘s guardianship has prevented the misuse of the place. In the last few years, the salt pans have been claimed for resorts and slums proliferate as vote banks. All this is a clear nexus with the CRZ rules. The salt makers have gone into the pages of history like the monks. The caves thankfully haven’t vanished.

Recently  the 19-acre central green area- absolute wilderness- in the colony was in threat of acquisition by market forces.  Fringe open spaces continue to be lopped off and sold to builders. Nostalgia has prompted residents to re-organize street-side games and Sunday-events for children. The community is waking up to the beauty of having undefined and hence multipurpose open spaces. The mango trees still yield fruit, albeit lesser than before. No buildings or roads disturb them as they age gracefully. But the urge to break the compound walls and let children and pets wander is an idea whose time has gone.

All of this is proof that the way we now think of boundaries and segregations has changed and needs to be integrated as experiences rather than lifeless landuses.

It does not take a degree in Architecture to realize that my house and my colony weave the outdoor and Indoor seamlessly. I did not have to look far to understand phrases like borrowed view, indirect lighting, diffused sun,  vista, threshold, transition space. It does not need a course in climatology and History of Indian Architecture to know that the buildings were oriented to harness sea breeze and keep out the sun. The windows, by their design allowed an adult and a kid to see the outdoors, and kept the rain out. The jaali brought in diffused light that had bounced off a rough plastered white blank wall of the adjoining building. The step outside each door on each floor created an aangan-like place where the fishmonger, salt seller and the milkman would navigate between noisy kids and elderly neighbours. Sight sound and smell is an integral part of living here.

It tells us that perhaps we can blur the distinction between landscape and architecture- an imagination of Architecture as a non-sanitized, inclusive environment.

This project has been relegated to a footnote status in the large body of work by the architect-Charles Correa. For me, this is one of my best references when I look for the Place of Nature in the City of the Future.

(Illustrated talk presented at the ISOLA 2012 Conference- Bhopal under Panorama: The Place of Nature in Tomorrow's City")