Conservation architect Mumbai
Conservation architect Abha Narain Lambah has been battling to save historic buildings in Mumbai for the past 12 years. She has restored many old structures to their former dignity, among them Mahatma Gandhi's former home and the JJ School of Arts, and managed to clean up entire downtown precincts, like the famous Heritage Mile. In August this year she won two Unesco awards for cultural conservation. Here, she describes what it's like to be one of the few advocates of antiquity in a fast-developing city
Thursday December 6th 2007
When I first became a conservation architect, in 1995, most Indians had absolutely no idea what conservation was. At parties, when I introduced myself, people would ask: "Are you a conversation architect?" But in the last decade awareness has grown. A lot of my work has been fundraising and activism.
I moved to Mumbai in 1995, a significant time for conservation; the Bombay Heritage Regulations were introduced in that year. Before that there were only a few protected structures – mostly monuments. Everything else was up for grabs. You could have demolished the Gateway of India or Victoria Terminus without anyone objecting. Now the government has to consult a heritage committee before it goes ahead with projects that affect protected buildings.
The first independent project I was involved in was Dadabhai Naurojee Road, now known as the Heritage Mile, in 1997. This road, which runs between the famous Victoria Terminus and Crawford Market, encapsulated all the problems of conservation in Mumbai. It was (and is) a highly commercial and crowded area, with deteriorating facades, buildings protected by the Rent Control Act and ugly shop signs that obscured the beautiful gothic and Victorian architecture.
When I began I was amazed to find that the Brihanmumbai Muncipal Corporation (BMC), the civic body that governs the city of Mumbai, had no maps or photos of the buildings. Most of the buildings in the area weren't even listed as heritage structures, which meant they could have been demolished without objection. I thought that if I could clean up this road, I could clean up anything in Mumbai.
I went to every shop and establishment along the road and suggested ways in which they could move or reduce the size of their signs. I had to make a complete nuisance of myself, and my friends thought I was mad. I remember visiting McDonald’s several times to nag them about the size of their sign.
Finally, a bank decided to relocate its sign, and the others followed suit. Then the Mumbai High Court ordered billboards in the area to be removed, which made a huge difference. It's been seven years now since the shopkeepers and other establishments formed the Heritage Mile Association, which helps maintain the area. They have paid for cast-iron benches, signs, paving and street lamps in front of their own establishments. Every shopkeeper has a stake in the area. To me, that makes perfect sense.
One of the best things to happen in the last decade is that the government has given up its monopoly over conservation, and now allows citizens' groups to be involved. Corporations like HSBC and Deutsche Bank are helping to renovate their own historical headquarters.
My biggest challenge is the lack of awareness. I remember some bureaucrats asking me: "Why restore buildings in lime when it's so laborious? Why can't we just do it in cement, which will last longer anyway?" When I restored Mani Bhavan, the former home of Mahatma Gandhi, I saw that all the original ceramic tiles had been replaced by ordinary bathroom tiles. A lot of people think that if the buildings have survived so far, they can continue to survive without special care.
Apart from the lack of awareness, the lack of funds is crippling. Whenever heritage and economics clash it's economics that wins. Many heritage areas are likely to disappear in a few years because the owners can't afford to maintain them. They would rather sell to builders, who can pay them huge sums, and buy a convenient flat in a high-rise.
What’s needed is strong political will, which is completely absent. The Mumbai government, like in most Indian cities, is under huge pressure to redevelop because of the booming price of real estate. The Heritage Committee, on which I served for three years, is an advisory body and has no teeth. It needs to have powers that can't be overruled, and it needs to be able to give financial incentives, which at the moment it can't.
It was a surprise to win not just one but two Unesco awards for conservation. I can't take credit for the first award – for restoring the 15th-century Maitreya temple in Ladakh – because that was entirely due to the effort put in by the villagers of Basgo. We were at a height of 11,000 feet and had to work in the freezing cold, with no telephone lines or electricity. We could only work between May and September because the roads were blocked in the winter. I don't think any other project will ever be so satisfying, especially because this temple was on a global list of endangered buildings in 2002.
The second award was for restoring the hall of the Mumbai University building, which hadn't been touched for 132 years. We had to put in new electrics and stained glass, and repair the roof and stonework. We found asbestos fibre in the ceiling, put there to improve the acoustics. For over 60 years the students had been breathing it in.
As a nation, India has an abundance of heritage structures, but we take them for granted. People spit and litter in them, cover them with graffiti and tear them down indiscriminately. We need to teach our children how to respect our heritage.
A lot of people think that conservation architects are too sentimental about preserving old buildings, but I believe heritage is Mumbai's unique selling point. I’m not saying that the city should shy from development, just that there is no need to trample on its history in the process. People keep talking about turning Mumbai into another Singapore. I think we should turn it back into Bombay.
Thursday December 6th 2007
When I first became a conservation architect, in 1995, most Indians had absolutely no idea what conservation was. At parties, when I introduced myself, people would ask: "Are you a conversation architect?" But in the last decade awareness has grown. A lot of my work has been fundraising and activism.
I moved to Mumbai in 1995, a significant time for conservation; the Bombay Heritage Regulations were introduced in that year. Before that there were only a few protected structures – mostly monuments. Everything else was up for grabs. You could have demolished the Gateway of India or Victoria Terminus without anyone objecting. Now the government has to consult a heritage committee before it goes ahead with projects that affect protected buildings.
The first independent project I was involved in was Dadabhai Naurojee Road, now known as the Heritage Mile, in 1997. This road, which runs between the famous Victoria Terminus and Crawford Market, encapsulated all the problems of conservation in Mumbai. It was (and is) a highly commercial and crowded area, with deteriorating facades, buildings protected by the Rent Control Act and ugly shop signs that obscured the beautiful gothic and Victorian architecture.
When I began I was amazed to find that the Brihanmumbai Muncipal Corporation (BMC), the civic body that governs the city of Mumbai, had no maps or photos of the buildings. Most of the buildings in the area weren't even listed as heritage structures, which meant they could have been demolished without objection. I thought that if I could clean up this road, I could clean up anything in Mumbai.
I went to every shop and establishment along the road and suggested ways in which they could move or reduce the size of their signs. I had to make a complete nuisance of myself, and my friends thought I was mad. I remember visiting McDonald’s several times to nag them about the size of their sign.
Finally, a bank decided to relocate its sign, and the others followed suit. Then the Mumbai High Court ordered billboards in the area to be removed, which made a huge difference. It's been seven years now since the shopkeepers and other establishments formed the Heritage Mile Association, which helps maintain the area. They have paid for cast-iron benches, signs, paving and street lamps in front of their own establishments. Every shopkeeper has a stake in the area. To me, that makes perfect sense.
One of the best things to happen in the last decade is that the government has given up its monopoly over conservation, and now allows citizens' groups to be involved. Corporations like HSBC and Deutsche Bank are helping to renovate their own historical headquarters.
My biggest challenge is the lack of awareness. I remember some bureaucrats asking me: "Why restore buildings in lime when it's so laborious? Why can't we just do it in cement, which will last longer anyway?" When I restored Mani Bhavan, the former home of Mahatma Gandhi, I saw that all the original ceramic tiles had been replaced by ordinary bathroom tiles. A lot of people think that if the buildings have survived so far, they can continue to survive without special care.
Apart from the lack of awareness, the lack of funds is crippling. Whenever heritage and economics clash it's economics that wins. Many heritage areas are likely to disappear in a few years because the owners can't afford to maintain them. They would rather sell to builders, who can pay them huge sums, and buy a convenient flat in a high-rise.
What’s needed is strong political will, which is completely absent. The Mumbai government, like in most Indian cities, is under huge pressure to redevelop because of the booming price of real estate. The Heritage Committee, on which I served for three years, is an advisory body and has no teeth. It needs to have powers that can't be overruled, and it needs to be able to give financial incentives, which at the moment it can't.
It was a surprise to win not just one but two Unesco awards for conservation. I can't take credit for the first award – for restoring the 15th-century Maitreya temple in Ladakh – because that was entirely due to the effort put in by the villagers of Basgo. We were at a height of 11,000 feet and had to work in the freezing cold, with no telephone lines or electricity. We could only work between May and September because the roads were blocked in the winter. I don't think any other project will ever be so satisfying, especially because this temple was on a global list of endangered buildings in 2002.
The second award was for restoring the hall of the Mumbai University building, which hadn't been touched for 132 years. We had to put in new electrics and stained glass, and repair the roof and stonework. We found asbestos fibre in the ceiling, put there to improve the acoustics. For over 60 years the students had been breathing it in.
As a nation, India has an abundance of heritage structures, but we take them for granted. People spit and litter in them, cover them with graffiti and tear them down indiscriminately. We need to teach our children how to respect our heritage.
A lot of people think that conservation architects are too sentimental about preserving old buildings, but I believe heritage is Mumbai's unique selling point. I’m not saying that the city should shy from development, just that there is no need to trample on its history in the process. People keep talking about turning Mumbai into another Singapore. I think we should turn it back into Bombay.
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