Not long ago, I found myself in a rickety old bus, travelling through Bangalore. I was headed towards my aunt’s place at Jeevan Bima Nagar. It was a 10 km journey from my guesthouse in Koramangla, and I enjoyed taking the bus. Sitting by the window, gazing at the facades flying by, I reflected upon stories that each of these buildings could tell.

 

Each and every one was like a piece of a puzzle that all added together to form Bangalore. An ever expanding puzzle of a city that was known for its ‘urban’ image, beautiful boulevards and vibrant night life. Bangalore has always carried the tag of ‘garden city’. As an architect who had been freshly cast into the practical world, it can truly be an eye opener.

 

Sitting in the bus, I noticed Indiranagar whizzing past me. The buildings that were flying past had evolved into dull, depressing glass facades. However, to my surprise, I've always found that life was always quite lively there in Indiranagar.

 

I enjoyed observing the people, their interactions and the hustle and bustle in their step. Of-course, the bus had only been plying on the main road. As soon as it turned off the road and went deeper into the locality, I couldn't help but take in the vibrant materials, colors and patterns that were littered all over the streetscape. The roads teemed with small shops cuddled below their respective owner’s flats. Abutting each other like Siamese twins, unwilling to let go. The street patterns seemed to be rhythmic; humming their own tunes.

 

There, I came across a continuous facade that I found quite mesmerizing. I could sense a balance of all of the above. It was, to me, a summation of all I had seen. It wasn't a structural marvel. It had no essence of artistic minimalism, but it wasn't lavish either. It was just a common man’s group of abodes. It didn't scream and shout but yet, it made a statement.

 

And in that instant, I fell in love with it’s simplicity.

I was lost in it’s portrayal of cultural significance and individual identity.

I was lost in it’s façade.

I was lost.

 

My thoughts were disturbed quite abruptly when I heard a coarse voice shout “Jeevan Bima Nagar uttar (get down)”.

 

Realising that this was my stop, I quickly gathered my things and got off the bus.

 

“So.. This is Jeevan Bima Nagar” I thought to myself as the bus pulled away. I was still caught up in the character and essence of the complex. The stepped balconies and terraces, with low partitioned walls, were filled with women draped in saris, gossiping loudly. Baskets with money were being let down from windows on the upper floors. It took me not more than a second to realise that these baskets were intended for the sabziwala (vegetable vendor). The basket's owners screamed instructions to him from behind their jaalis and eventually tugged on the rope, pulling back their now filled baskets.

 

I slowly walked through the complex taking it all in as I went. It struck me that the experience, to me, was quite spiritual. Akin to walking through a temple, I didn't’ consider for a moment who the architect might be but rather focused on the tiny details of his design.

 

I noticed men and woman, of varying ages, standing around watering the plants that hung over the edge of the parapet walls. I was amazed. For despite every single space on the parapets being utilized as best as possible, it didn't feel claustrophobic.

 

The trees that dotted the complex added a character of their own. Acting as a buffer and reducing noise from the roads, they ensured that the residents had the required privacy while at the same time offering them a partial view of the street below. The words ’step down socialization’ registered on my mind at the sight of this.

 

The varied hierarchy in the levels of terraces and slabs created a strong shadow pattern which added to the essence of the street.

 

If I was ever asked to describe Jeevan Bhima as briefly as possible, I would refer to it as extremely well thought out. And this is, technically, the most important part of the design. The functionality. Most architects today are so form obsessed that they forget that a building’s primary role is to cater to its users.

 

I continued through the complex, towards my aunt’s house, keeping all my silent, one-sided conversations to myself. However, I did make a mental note to write my thoughts out later and elaborate my views on what “character” really means and how this complex seemed to be an embodiment of it. Ever since then, whenever I visited my aunt, I got down a stop earlier and walked along the street, marveling at the transition of character from the glass-clad giants on the main road to the ordered chaos of Jeevan Bima.

 

Though I have walked those streets many times since, I must admit that I always marveled at the creation while not once thinking about the creator.

 

With time, things moved on, and I was once again lost in a concrete world. Today, nearly two years since, I was sitting amidst a dense pile of books at my institute’s library. I had been doing a bit of research on the works of Charles Correa for an upcoming lecture to my students. As I flicked through the book, I suddenly froze. For, out of the corner of my eye, I had caught a glimpse of that day 2 years ago. I hastily turned back the pages to it and buried my nose in the article. It’s title read ‘Jiwan Bima Housing, Banglore’.

 

“ Architecture is not about function and form;

It is about memories and more...  “

 

-  dedicated to Charles Correa