 "Under Dali's watch")
His office is a treasure trove of art. In the first of a series on well appointed offices, Ranjita Ganesan explores Harsh Goenka's workplace in Worli.
What hits one first on entering RPG House in Worli, Mumbai, is the overwhelming presence of paintings and installations. The foyer and other waiting areas of the pink building, inspired by the Hawa Mahal in Jaipur, are like perpetual exhibitions. This, no doubt, is a consequence of having a chairman who ardently collects and supports art.
Harsh Goenka, caught in traffic, is delayed for the meeting, which allows us time to take in the space around his cabin on the fifth floor. The floorboards and the reception desk are cloaked in white. So are the stark walls, marked only by the works of the likes of M F Husain and S H Raza. A panel with 36 self-portraits, including those by Anjolie Ela Menon, Paresh Maity and Bikash Bhattacharjee, is particularly striking.
The chairman arrives soon and ushers us into the cabin. Instead of his desk, Goenka takes a seat at the conference table, on one of the six elegant and surprisingly heavy chairs around it. Like the rest of the furniture in the room, these are crafted from wood and horsehair that is laminated to remove the fuzziness. The ivory-coloured cushions are made of soft leather. Dominated by cream and ochre, the interiors are kept intentionally light and cheerful. The decision was prompted by a visit to the dreary, dark-hued office of a major company in Delhi. "All the lights had to be used throughout the day! I don't know how they could work like that," says 55-year-old Goenka.
The cabin, he informs, was redesigned eight years ago by cricketer Dilip Vengsarkar's mother-in-law, a Mrs Vandrekar, who also decorated his residence. Its traditional look was swapped for a modern design, something the company had said it planned to do with its business as well. The furniture was sourced from Italy, because "Italian stands for contemporary. Be it cars or fashion, they are ahead of everyone."
Comfort was also key since Goenka is at work up to 11 hours a day. To one side is his desk, where he studies documents or meets visitors. His chair swivels around to directly face a shelf with his PC. If he tires of sitting, he can stand and work on a hinged wooden desk that can be folded inconspicuously into the wall.
The hours spent in the office may be long but its details sometimes escape Goenka's notice. Before the redecoration some years ago, the chairman unknowingly used a very expensive seat of German make, known as the Rolls Royce of chairs. "I had no idea it was special until a friend who is a chair-enthusiast told me," he says. Until someone brought it to his attention, he had also skipped seeing that 40 flowers had bloomed in the cabin's terrace garden. "Over time, you tend to take the space for granted," says Goenka, who has occupied the office for more than 25 years.
Adjacent to the rectangular cabin is an additional area for meetings, with a small teapoy and sofas. The spot was once included in the cabin but glass doors were introduced to separate it after a visitor with knowledge of Vastu shastra insisted that any room which is not square-shaped spelled misfortune. Glass was chosen to maintain a sense of openness, says Goenka.
The art pieces inside the cabin are more understated, gleaming gently under the task lights in the room. These include a Raza painting personalised to include 'Harsh' in Devnagari script and a painting by his daughter Vashundhara. There are two sculptures by Salvador Dali - the Velocipede Horse, a gift from his parents, and the artist's signature melting timepiece, picked up on one of his Europe trips.
Mounted on the wall right opposite Goenka's desk and usually in his line of vision is an Akbar Padamsee painting in two parts "signifying fierceness and calmness." Bold colours dominate one side, while the other is in softer shades. "I lean towards the calm side 99.99 percent of the time," he says.
Also among the interesting pieces is a tyre-shaped clock he bought in Europe that reminded him of CEAT. "I love it. I should have similar ones made for the rest of the office," he says, as if making a mental note. The CEAT factory also created a special tyre-shaped ashtray that sits on the conference table.
The chairman is "technology-friendly but not a technology freak." To de-stress, he has a music player with Bose speakers and CDs of Yanni, Kenny G and instrumental music. A TV is in the room expressly for keeping track of cricket scores.
While not a hardcore believer in Zen, he wished to surround the office with calming Chinese elements like pebbles, bamboo shoots as well as a fountain on his terrace garden, set along one length of the office.
He talks about the pieces in a manner that is doting, though not boastful. Things of personal value too are present in the room but not displayed prominently. An intricately-carved ivory idol of Tirupati Balaji, revered ardently by the Goenkas, is placed in a hollow cabinet in the wall. A framed photograph of his father and company founder R P Goenka faces his desk.
From the incidents he recollects, it becomes clear that art has on occasion defied the businessman in him. During a visit to Goenka's office, Alfred Ford, an Iskcon devotee and great-grandson of Henry Ford, was entranced by a painting of Lord Krishna. "He was willing to trade in a Picasso worth millions for the painting, which was worth about Rs 6 lakh. As a business deal, it would have been great but it did not feel right." Instead, Goenka called up the artist who had painted it and requested him to make a replica for Ford.
Years ago, when Mother Teresa was to come to the office, Goenka had planned to request her to sign Husain's painting of her, which has since been shifted to his residence. "She came in, we shook hands and the energy I felt was so warm and genuine," he recalls. "I couldn't ask for the signature. It seemed too commercial."
What hits one first on entering RPG House in Worli, Mumbai, is the overwhelming presence of paintings and installations. The foyer and other waiting areas of the pink building, inspired by the Hawa Mahal in Jaipur, are like perpetual exhibitions. This, no doubt, is a consequence of having a chairman who ardently collects and supports art.
Harsh Goenka, caught in traffic, is delayed for the meeting, which allows us time to take in the space around his cabin on the fifth floor. The floorboards and the reception desk are cloaked in white. So are the stark walls, marked only by the works of the likes of M F Husain and S H Raza. A panel with 36 self-portraits, including those by Anjolie Ela Menon, Paresh Maity and Bikash Bhattacharjee, is particularly striking.
The chairman arrives soon and ushers us into the cabin. Instead of his desk, Goenka takes a seat at the conference table, on one of the six elegant and surprisingly heavy chairs around it. Like the rest of the furniture in the room, these are crafted from wood and horsehair that is laminated to remove the fuzziness. The ivory-coloured cushions are made of soft leather. Dominated by cream and ochre, the interiors are kept intentionally light and cheerful. The decision was prompted by a visit to the dreary, dark-hued office of a major company in Delhi. "All the lights had to be used throughout the day! I don't know how they could work like that," says 55-year-old Goenka.
The cabin, he informs, was redesigned eight years ago by cricketer Dilip Vengsarkar's mother-in-law, a Mrs Vandrekar, who also decorated his residence. Its traditional look was swapped for a modern design, something the company had said it planned to do with its business as well. The furniture was sourced from Italy, because "Italian stands for contemporary. Be it cars or fashion, they are ahead of everyone."
Comfort was also key since Goenka is at work up to 11 hours a day. To one side is his desk, where he studies documents or meets visitors. His chair swivels around to directly face a shelf with his PC. If he tires of sitting, he can stand and work on a hinged wooden desk that can be folded inconspicuously into the wall.
* * *
The hours spent in the office may be long but its details sometimes escape Goenka's notice. Before the redecoration some years ago, the chairman unknowingly used a very expensive seat of German make, known as the Rolls Royce of chairs. "I had no idea it was special until a friend who is a chair-enthusiast told me," he says. Until someone brought it to his attention, he had also skipped seeing that 40 flowers had bloomed in the cabin's terrace garden. "Over time, you tend to take the space for granted," says Goenka, who has occupied the office for more than 25 years.
Adjacent to the rectangular cabin is an additional area for meetings, with a small teapoy and sofas. The spot was once included in the cabin but glass doors were introduced to separate it after a visitor with knowledge of Vastu shastra insisted that any room which is not square-shaped spelled misfortune. Glass was chosen to maintain a sense of openness, says Goenka.
The art pieces inside the cabin are more understated, gleaming gently under the task lights in the room. These include a Raza painting personalised to include 'Harsh' in Devnagari script and a painting by his daughter Vashundhara. There are two sculptures by Salvador Dali - the Velocipede Horse, a gift from his parents, and the artist's signature melting timepiece, picked up on one of his Europe trips.
Mounted on the wall right opposite Goenka's desk and usually in his line of vision is an Akbar Padamsee painting in two parts "signifying fierceness and calmness." Bold colours dominate one side, while the other is in softer shades. "I lean towards the calm side 99.99 percent of the time," he says.
Also among the interesting pieces is a tyre-shaped clock he bought in Europe that reminded him of CEAT. "I love it. I should have similar ones made for the rest of the office," he says, as if making a mental note. The CEAT factory also created a special tyre-shaped ashtray that sits on the conference table.
* * *
The chairman is "technology-friendly but not a technology freak." To de-stress, he has a music player with Bose speakers and CDs of Yanni, Kenny G and instrumental music. A TV is in the room expressly for keeping track of cricket scores.
While not a hardcore believer in Zen, he wished to surround the office with calming Chinese elements like pebbles, bamboo shoots as well as a fountain on his terrace garden, set along one length of the office.
He talks about the pieces in a manner that is doting, though not boastful. Things of personal value too are present in the room but not displayed prominently. An intricately-carved ivory idol of Tirupati Balaji, revered ardently by the Goenkas, is placed in a hollow cabinet in the wall. A framed photograph of his father and company founder R P Goenka faces his desk.
From the incidents he recollects, it becomes clear that art has on occasion defied the businessman in him. During a visit to Goenka's office, Alfred Ford, an Iskcon devotee and great-grandson of Henry Ford, was entranced by a painting of Lord Krishna. "He was willing to trade in a Picasso worth millions for the painting, which was worth about Rs 6 lakh. As a business deal, it would have been great but it did not feel right." Instead, Goenka called up the artist who had painted it and requested him to make a replica for Ford.
Years ago, when Mother Teresa was to come to the office, Goenka had planned to request her to sign Husain's painting of her, which has since been shifted to his residence. "She came in, we shook hands and the energy I felt was so warm and genuine," he recalls. "I couldn't ask for the signature. It seemed too commercial."