Arghya Ganguly walks through Mumbai’s Esplanade Mansion, a “dangerous building”
At the boisterous intersection of Kalaghoda in southern Mumbai, while you await your second-serving of kulfi-falooda at the crowded juice centre — the definite meeting point post-lunch for corporate raiders, bankers, lawyers, aesthetes and dull-drifters — you are bound to notice the Esplanade Mansion (formerly called Watson’s Hotel) glistening majestically in the scorching heat across the road. Though dilapidated, the exterior of the 150-year-old British structure still oozes an old-world charm against the backdrop of ultra-modern set-ups, inducing a “sugar rush” in passers-by.
Looking out from the fourth floor balcony of the then Watson’s hotel, American humourist Mark Twain wrote in 1895-96 in Following the Equator: “There is a rank of noble great shade trees across the way from the hotel, and under them sit groups of picturesque natives of both sexes; and the juggler in his turban is there with his snakes and his magic; and all day long the cabs and the multitudinous varieties of costumes flock by. It does not seem as if one could ever get tired of watching this moving show.” Twain also recorded the “yelling and shouting of natives in the hall…along with the velvety patter of their swift bare feet — what a racket it was” all day long.
If today you happen to walk into the fragile, largely unlit Grade II-A heritage structure, which from the inside resembles a war-ravaged house, you’re certain to feel twitchy at the lack of noise. More than the silence, you might want to rush to the exit when the stink of years of un-cleared garbage nauseates you. But that’s not easy escape since it’s hard to find the exit once you’ve entered.
Even Eshwar, the postman, who has been visiting the building since time immemorial, slaps his forehead and delivers a monologue punctuated with cuss words. “Every other day, either the room numbers change or the advocates. Then there are places in this building where you’re sure to catch your death if you venture into it,” says Eshwar.
That’s why Eshwar’s objective upon entering the building is to first locate the head sweeper Kelkar (name changed). He does the same today. Eshwar tells you that though he is sanguine, based on what he’s seen so far, that Kelkar “hardly sweeps”, he still considers Kelkar an amiable fellow since “he is up to date with who’s moved where in the building and has a strong instinct as to which part of the Mansion might collapse. I don’t go into those rooms then. I ask the advocates to collect their letters from the post office.” Then, suddenly realising that he might have been a bit unfair, Eshwar adds as an afterthought: “But, can any sweeper clean such a mess?”
Renzo Piano, an Italian architect, you would think has as much faith in his guts as Kelkar. In 2005, Piano ensured that the building found its name on the list of “100 World Endangered Monuments” put out by the World Monuments Fund. And as luck would have it, just a couple of days after its nomination, part of the building’s western façade, which were actually balconies developed into small offices, collapsed, killing one person and smashing vehicles parked in the street below.
More From This Section
Esplanade Mansion is the address of about 140 tenants, of which 45 are residential and the rest commercial. There is a paan shop, a restaurant, a cottage industry with about 10 workers sewing shoulder-to-shoulder round the clock, stationery shops (one of which has been here for 52 years). But the bulk of the place is taken up by advocates, who find their dingy ramshackle offices convenient to operate out of since the High Court, Civil and the Sessions Court are nearby. “At a prime location like this, who will ask for only Rs 9,500 monthly for 13 months?That’s why I choose to overlook if the sweeper doesn’t clean the front of my office even after repeated complaints,” says Subhash P Bajaj, a High Court advocate as he turns your attention three stories below to the ground floor, to the informally-designated garbage dumping ground, originally built for waltzing. Incidentally, Sadiq Ali, the owner of Mansion, considers a month to have 24 days and a year to have 13 months and none of the tenants knows why.
For the last four years, the Mansion has featured in the Maharashtra Housing and Area Development Authority’s (MHADA) pre-monsoon survey as a “dangerous building which needs immediate attention”. Early this year, after a discussion with MHADA, Mumbai Heritage Conservation Committee (MHCC) decided to carry out restoration work in seven phases. The MHCC must issue a “no objection certificate” to Mumbai Building Repair and Reconstruction Board (MBRRB), which is a part of MHADA, but NOC hasn’t come through and perhaps will never will, according to Bajaj, since MHADA cannot gather the funds in excess of Rs 15 crore required to rebuild the place. And even if MHADA manages to put together the sum to refurbish, the occupants have reached a consensus not to leave the premises.
Incidentally, the building was fabricated in England (including its external cast iron frame and the 98 x 30 ft atrium) and constructed on site between 1860 and 1863. The hotel, which was the venue for the first film screening in India in 1896 by the Lumiere brothers, lost its popularity with the passing away of John Watson in 1960. Sometime later, the Tatas took over the building and in the 80s, sold it to Ali.
Ali lives in a single room overflowing with files, with a camera fixed outside his door apparently “to shoo away the innumerable cats and uninvited guests trying to invade his privacy”. Living a few rooms away from Ali is someone who seems at ease about sleeping with cats. “I’ve been sleeping with them for so long that now I’ve definitely got nine lives. So, when the ceiling comes down I will come out alive,” promises the man, who seems reluctant to disclose his name.
Amidst all the disturbing visuals is a neatly-painted room on the third floor called “Artland”. Run by Sunil Chauhan, Artland is a platform for seasoned and up-and-coming artists. “Foreigners come here to buy art. They have no qualms about walking into an old building. They tell me art galleries have similar set-ups in Paris. You don’t necessarily find great art in a posh place,” says Chauhan, who has been a tenant here for more than a decade, adding, “My friends ask me to move out. But why should I? Firstly, I’ve all my banker clients who buy from me; and secondly, Kalaghoda is the hub of art in the city.” Currently, the walls of Artland are adorned with the mystical landscape/ seascape paintings of senior artist Vinod Sharma. Sharma’s work manages to divert your mind from the worldly issues.
Stepping out, it occurs to you that the cramped ill-maintained rooms, creaky wooden steps (where you must walk with a prayer on your lips), indefinitely delayed repair work, and off-putting sanitation level are not exclusive to the Watson’s Hotel. It is a parody of the state of Mumbai, just as during the British Raj the hotel was the parody of India, as Twain discovered: “…And India did not wait for morning, it began at the hotel — straight away.”
