Building Beauty

Abha Narain Lamba is an ardent protector of Mumbai's architectural heritage. She speaks to Saturday DNA about motherhood, dreams and why buildings
are living things

There's something about Abha Narain Lamba. Why else would journalists – all men – eagerly volunteer to wake up at the crack of dawn to interview her? Even hardened photographers reminisce about their brief encounters with her.

As a conservation architect, Abha's job is  far removed from the glitz and glamour of, say, the fashion or film world. But with a face that looks good minus the presence of any war paint, charisma to put anyone at ease, and a passion for Mumbai's heritage buildings, Abha is like a breath of fresh air in a city that's more concerned about FSI and skyscrapers.

In her spacious Carter Road apartment, which is littered with knick-knacks collected from her travels to different parts of the world, Abha talks about her love affair with old buildings… and her indifference to the ultra-modern buildings that are steadily changing the city's skyline.

"During my postgraduate years in the School of Planning and Architecture at Delhi, I was greatly influenced by Joseph Allen Stein, and the concept of rescuing and preserving old buildings," she says, referring to the US architect, who made India his home, and was awarded the Padma Shri.

For an architect, the creation of a building is a work of art; the building itself is a reflection of the ego, the self. But by choosing this niche for herself, Abha had to put aside her ego, and work with the plans laid down by someone else.

"I don't see this as a problem," she grins. "It's a challenge to work with the original plans. Even if the client wants to modernise the building, my job is to ensure that the shell, at least, remains untouched, and keep the architect's vision in mind."

Architecture just happened to Abha: "I always wanted to be a writer." But with six books to her name, she has managed to keep that dream alive.

And though she's been in the city for only 13 years, her knowledge of Mumbai would put even the original Mumbaikar to shame. "Mumbai is my home," she says stoutly. "As a child, because of my father's work, we were always on the move. Delhi, Chandigarh, Jammu, Kolkata…. But now I am here." And with a husband and daughter, Abha doesn't look like she's going to pack her bags in a hurry. But the constant relocation during her childhood years has given her the poise and the confidence, which many covet.

And while she's supremely confident about her work and the impact she has, Abha doesn't believe that she's managed to straddle home and work life. "God, I'm no super-mom. I'm nothing like my sister who drops her daughter to school, organises parties for her friends..." she tapers off. But the black and white pictures of her husband and daughter that adorn the side table tell a different story. "I'm not the typical wife my Punjabi husband could have imagined. I'm not even fair," she laughs.

Abha's family is originally from Kashmir. "We used to visit my grandparents there during our holidays, but we were forced to leave, and I haven't gone back. My mother, too, hasn't been 'home' for 20 years." But if there are memories and a feeling of wistfulness, Abha doesn't let on. The here and the now are what's important. "And there are enough projects to keep me occupied."

Back on familiar territory, Abha talks about her new challenge – the BMC building. "I've been awarded the contract, and I can't wait to restore that building, from the years of damage and ill-treatment it has been put through." Images of Abha tackling paan stains come to mind. But the work, of course, goes beyond giving one of the city's most important buildings a good scrub. It would involve an inspection, a diagnosis, an analysis of the structure, before actually getting down to the nitty-gritty.

It comes as a surprise, but Abha insists that things have never looked so good for Mumbai's heritage buildings. "Over the last 10 years, there has been an attitude change. The government is finally realising the importance of preserving the city's buildings. The allocation of Rs15 crore in the budget this year was a watershed moment."

Her dream project would be the restoration of Opera House. "It's such a stunning building. Restoring the building would be a dream come true for me."

And yes, Abha believes that buildings have the power to communicate. "Each building has an intrinsic character. Take the BMC building for instance," she says. "There's no garden or lawn leading up to it. It's out there, interacting with the people – and that's the way a municipal headquarters should be.

"Take the Louvre in Paris. I don't think the glass pyramid takes away from the beauty of the building." It would be a lesson in history to have Abha as a tourist guide. "Yes, I'm the unofficial guide, when we do manage to go for a holiday together. We recently went to Istanbul. For my mother, it's as close to Kashmir as she's going to get."  Abha's dream is to renovate and live in an old heritage bungalow. "But  that can wait. There's too much to do right now."

From the windows of her third floor apartment, you get a clear view of the end of the Carter Road promenade. But it's not a picturesque view – the years of depredation cannot be erased easily. "Things are getting better," she says gently. "It's only when we lose something, when we realise that our heritage is fading, that we will work towards conserving it."

t_anjali@dnaindia.net