IN our country the idea of conservation continues to be routinely misunderstood. It is thus ironic that most of our self-professed experts express complete conviction in the ‘correctness’ of their understanding, discounting any possibility of an alternative reading of the concept. A point often forgotten is that conservation is culture specific; it is also an art and science. In our culture, history and antiquity are not accorded the same deference as in the West. Nonetheless, our conservation movement continues to be heavily influenced by the dominant paradigms which evolved in the West.

In the past 13 years of my practice as a conservationist, I am reminded of the story of the ‘six blind man and an elephant’. While the architectural historian treats the building as sacrosanct, permitting no changes at all, the developer/builder lies at the other extreme, seeing conservation negatively, as an obstruction to development. The client/NGOs remain confused between these two extremes and desire only awards and rewards. The conservation architect, however, treats the building contextually and is open to restoration, repair and extension. He is the bridge between the two extremes, the historian and builder, opting for the best of a bad compromise. The ordinary architect, unfamiliar with conservation, is like a coconut tree that sways with the breeze, the prevailing trend sometimes favouring conservation and, at others, indiscriminate development. The users or people, by and large, remain ignorant about conservation.

 

 

There are other generic problems that I have encountered during my practice as a conservation architect – the undefined roles of professionals and NGOs. Professionals should remain professionals and NGOs should remain NGOs, spreading awareness and playing the watchdog. Unfortunately this maxim is changing and we find many of our professional colleagues playing the role of NGOs and the NGOs executing conservation projects. The professional could be playing NGO for many reasons: (i) for a genuine cause, and in the absence of a good local non-governmental effort; (ii) to tap national and international grants, which is a double-edged sword; and (iii) perhaps for personal gain, as seen in a few cases, although no one will openly acknowledge it.

Serving two masters, the funder and actual owner, is a tricky business. As true professionals we should serve only one master; hence it is essential that a MoU be worked out between the two where such a situation arises. It must be clear who takes decisions once the requirements have been carefully worked-out; failure can result in grey areas in which professionals may have to compromise. Ideally, professionals, should not work under pressure from clients. This can only be ensured when professional standards are high and there is ample work. The professional must command respect and not be a businessman.

Conservation will only succeed if it is economically viable: one way is by retaining as much of the original material as possible. This practice is followed in the West for reasons of authenticity, but for us it is not only economic but likely to be accepted by the public at large. This has been my experience, and it has brought in repeat clients.

Money is the biggest enemy of conservation. When clients have ‘surplus’ funds, they forget the value of skilful repair and under the disguise of restoration opt for reconstruction, extension and adaptive reuse. The tendency is to flaunt their newly acquired wealth which invariably causes more harm than good. In cases where builders purchase a property, the pressure is to exploit it commercially to seek maximum benefit; this usually results in pulling down the heritage structure. When funds are limited, the focus is on the essentials.

The fraternity of conservation professionals is highly fractionalized and polarized. Though we have various groups of conservation architects, it is unfortunate that instead of strengthening one another everyone is busy fighting over jobs. The clients take advantage of such situations. As a result the younger professionals are yet to experience a healthy environment.

 

 

Let us now look at a specific example – the restoration of the Aga Khan Palace in Pune. A friend recommended my name to Madhur Bajaj, Vice President of Bajaj Auto, who was keen to restore the palace, a heritage landmark of the city. The Bajaj family through its ‘late’ patriarch (Jamnalal Bajaj) was very close to Gandhiji and that is how this story of ‘conversation’ architect to ‘conservation’ architect unfolds. I was recommended as a conservation architect to the Gandhi National Memorial Society (GNMS), Pune, the caretakers and users of the building, who in 1999 invited me to prepare a fabric status report on the refurbishment of the Aga Khan Palace. I was excited to get an opportunity to restore a palace. It did not matter that all expenditures in time and money would end up coming from my pocket, including the cost of travel. Somewhat stressful as it involved a year long wait to recover the fees and travel expenses.

 

 

The palace is a magnificent century-old building on the outskirts of Pune, designed by an unknown architect in an eclectic mixed style. It is set among well-laid out gardens with fountains. His Highness, Aga Khan III, the spiritual head of the Ismailiah Khoja sect built this palace to provide employment at a time of famine in the area. It came to be known as the ‘blue palace’ because of its lime wash. As described in one of the travel guides of the early 20th century, its location close to the Pune Race Course suggests it may also have served as a suburban mansion for the occasional stay of the Aga Khan.

In 1942 the building was requisitioned for use as a prison by the British to house Mahatma Gandhi. Accompanying him were wife, Kasturba Gandhi and aide/secretary, Madhav Desai. Both Desai and Kasturba passed away here, leaving Gandhiji a very lonely man. A samadhi of Kasturba, designed by Charles Correa, one of India’s leading architects, was constructed in the complex next to the palace. The building and the complex with its 16 acres of land was gifted by the Aga Khan in the 1960s to the nation as a monument to Gandhiji. Since then the Gandhi National Memorial Society (GNMS) has been its custodian. In 2003, the building was declared a protected monument and came under the custodianship of the ASI (Archaeological Survey of India).

The ground floor of the building houses the museum section with some period historical rooms like those of Gandhiji’s, Sarojini Naidu and Madhav Desai. The old defunct hamam had been modified to house a printing press and parts of the area served as the GNMS office. The first floor housed a library and girls hostel; the first and second floor also served as a hostel. The spacious verandahs were covered with chicken mesh and wooden framing, both to prevent accidents and to keep the birds away. This mesh fencing, however, made it look like a jail.

The toilets were in the verandah and the resultant damp affected the wooden structures. The garden was in a similar mess, the condition being such that the ‘out’ gate was used as ‘in’ gate and all the fountains in the complex were dry. The conservatory near the entrance was also damaged – possibly because the GNMS, Pune had no money for its overall care and was merely sustaining itself through revenue generated through entry tickets. The maintenance of the building was entrusted to the PWD which had declared the building as unsafe due to leaking toilets. As a result, the first and second floors were vacated and the girls hostel shifted to a hideous RCC building close to the palace. Unfortunately, the plans for this building had been approved by the local heritage committee.

 

 

Unlike most public projects in need of government funding, in this case there was some ray of hope. The attempt by Madhur Bajaj to convince the new managing director of MTDC, Ashish Singh, worked and a grant of Rs 74 lakh was approved, based on the costing of the fabric status or restoration report. The first set of difficulties surfaced about who the client should be – the sponsor, MTDC or the owner, GNMS. In the event GNMS was deemed the client to reduce bureaucracy and other government formalities. An MoU was signed between the GNMS and MTDC and I was appointed by GNMS as their conservation architect.

The appointment with GNMS ensured I enjoyed the flexibility to understand their brief and prepare rate item tenders and select only short-listed contractors with requisite background in conservation work. Had this arrangement not been possible, the project may not have seen the light of day as it is near impossible to carry out conservation work on the rates and specification mentioned in the departmental schedule of rates (DSOR).

 

 

One basic problem relates to a paucity of archival information on the building. Unlike other colonial buildings elsewhere, except for the dates there was little other information. While the GNMS had only a base and site plan, there was no contour survey plan with trees marked. The owners (GNMS) had no clear ideas on the adaptive reuse of the vacant area of the building. One suggestion was to set up museums on different themes like ‘women’s empowerment’. However, others felt that a multipurpose hall may be a better alternative for the top floor whereas the first floor could continue as a library and an additional gallery space. This multipurpose hall would bring revenue to the trust. The long corridors with their wall space could double up as an amateur picture gallery and sit-out spaces.

The MTDC had classified the proposal as ‘refurbishment’ and it was mandatory to stick with that title despite the fact that the job entailed repairs and restoration. The wrong title for the project could easily result in a loss or dilution of focus from the sponsor and client’s perspective.

The time taken by a government bureaucracy to process proposals and payments often make them unworkable. In this case, the estimates were given in 1999 and the project completed in 2004. The building remained unattended in the first year; it also meant a years’ wait to recover the fees. Such experiences only discourage good professionals from engaging with the government sector.

 

 

It was fortunate that the MTDC, unlike most other government agencies, had a supportive staff at all levels, and it was a pleasure to work with them. However, as past experience had taught me, I felt it was best not to be on contract with the MTDC, which was more bureaucratic. Instead, I chose to work with the owners who in turn entered into an agreement with MTDC who agreed to serve as facilitator. Hence, I could follow the terms and conditions of the Council of Architecture, which a direct arrangement with MTDC would not have allowed.

More significantly, I could float tenders on rate item basis, as architects normally do. This too would not have been possible had I been with a direct appointment with MTDC where prevalent CPWD rates would have been enforced and the work quality would have suffered. The MTDC, however, checked and approved all aspects of the tenders that were floated, and all my certificates and bills were sent to them for inspection.

Midway through the project an engineer on deputation came for an inspection. Without knowledge of the agreement between GNMS and MTDC, he started asking questions from a PWD perspective and it took a long time to convince and educate him that conservation work could not be equated with the normal PWD practice. In any conservation task, which is very labour intensive, it is difficult to comprehend the likely work involved. The inspection carried out prior to the approval of the tender to estimate likely work and expense is only visual; one cannot open up the building for detailed scrutiny.

To include all the likely items in the bill is difficult and annoying to the contractors. But as most conservation work is labour intensive, it is best to keep a provision on a daily basis system with a percentage of profit earmarked over and above that. However, government set-ups do not encouraged this practice, constituting a major obstacle to good and economical conservation.

 

 

There are very few contractors well-versed in theoretical and philosophical knowledge of conservation. Most present entrants are big time contractors who, possibly due to recession in the construction industry, have diversified into this field and they in turn rely on skilled sub-contractors. In most projects, the work involved needs skilled roof repairers, masons, carpenters and painters and to find all these in one agency is very difficult. Fortunately, I could float two limited bid tenders and break-up the tenders under different sub-headings. This enabled me to involve reputed contractors experienced in heritage work. Also, as the tenders were broken-up under different heads, I was lucky to get expert sub-contractors. This made the tender competitive and since we were not forced to follow the lowest bid pattern, it provided an opportunity to negotiate and scrutinize them, enabling us to select the best team at a competitive price.

Our system is such that traditional craftsmen and artisans, who are an integral part of conservation, cannot be involved directly as the bureaucracy does not permit it. The small-time contractor or a skilled sub-contractor or artisans cannot make it to the top on their own. This is because of their incapacity to undertake huge investments. Further, they do not have income tax or sales tax registration, insurance cover and nor do they adhere to prevailing labour laws. Often they also lack infrastructure facilities like scaffolds, planks and so on. Unless the rules are revised, one is forced to rely on big civil contractors who grab credit from the real doers.

Unlike in the UK where a single contracting agency carries out all the work, the scenario in India is different. The role of the architect changes to practically becoming a supervisor, coordinating different specialized agencies for quality work. The involvement becomes greater and often daily visits are required for which the client does not normally reimburse.

Often the specialized nature of work overlaps with the other commitments, leading to poor coordination and mismanagement of time. This is the big risk which one has to take, apart from the additional headache of coordinating the project, practically on a day-to-day basis.

 

 

Maintaining a logbook or keeping periodic minutes is important and helps justify work which was unexpected. A good works clerk who understands the principles of conservation is essential. We were fortunate to train two such young engineers on site. In conservation work, decisions have often to be changed depending upon site conditions, resulting in a deviation from the approved tender. In this project, for instance, we underestimated the extent of repairs needed on the teakwood joists and beams. It was only after opening up that we found the wood had rotted. Similarly, we were unsure if the layers of paint could be removed from limestone masonry and only after a process of trial and error could arrive at a proper decision.

Finding a good structural engineer remains a major challenge. The concept of conservation engineering is yet to enter the Indian market as it is not commercially viable. Few structural engineers can understand a conservation architect’s brief and analyze the historical building. I was fortunate to receive some good informal advice from Kamal Hadkar of Sterling Engineering Consultancy Services on how to replace the localized rotted main beam in the porch and rectify the steel channels on either side holding the wooden member. The way the PWD placed the steel beam was highly insensitive.

 

 

When the Taj Mahal was built in the 17th century by Shahjahan, some of the best craftsmen of the world were involved. Master mason Muhammad Hanif from Kandahar was paid Rs 1000 per month, ‘…another Muhammad Sayyid from Multan, who received 590 rupees and Abu Torah from same place paid 500 rupees, Ismail Khan Rumi, an expert on dome construction, also received 500 rupees…’¹ These craftsmen were paid fairly well (an average of 500 rupees per month or 15 rupees per day in the 17th century) as they were working on a magnificent building, which became a world heritage.

It would be near impossible to repair these structures following the accepted conservation norms or ensuring good quality workmanship under the CPWD format and schedule of rates (SOR). Under the typical government format as per DSR 2002, a mason for ornamental stone work, 1st class, is entitled only Rs 130 a day as compared to Rs 15 in the 17th century. Labour intensive work cannot be accommodated within these formats if we are to respect specialized artisans. To cap it all, the system of selecting the lowest bidder to get work done is the worst enemy of conservation and unless that is waived it will be difficult to get good contractors: ‘You get monkeys if you give nuts’ is an apt statement for CPWD format type execution.

 

 

Then we have a March 31 syndrome. It’s the worst date for the bureaucracy as the financial year comes to an end. Unspent funds lapse, and to ‘carry forward’ to the next financial year becomes difficult. This results in undue pressure to rush through the work or at least spend the funds. Fortunately, we succeeded in explaining that expediting the work could cause more damage and the point was appreciated by the concerned authorities. The coordinating architect from the client’s side, Mridula Ranade, understood the problems well. Nevertheless, it took us three years with work stopping intermittently for release of funds instead of the year scheduled to complete the project.

Government funded projects are usually delayed as the flow of money is not constant. This breaks the momentum of the project as skilled artisans go away, as happened with us. Another serious problem was interrupted electricity supply, which was fairly frequent. As a result we were unable to use mechanical tools, causing further delay.

It is often the case that if the project stretches too long, the bureaucrats who initiated the work are transferred out and their successors may not perceive the significance in the same way. If the project has political overtones, a change in government can result in new policies and funding may get withdrawn. Fortunately in this case, the bulk of the work was completed under the tenure of MTDC Chairman Ashish Singh. Even a change in the central government did not alter his support to the project.

For other private projects, I work with a skilled mason and his team who have handled my lime plaster work for the past six years. Unfortunately, as he could not meet the criteria for this assignment, I could not involve him. Though the lead contractor did manage to get a good mason, he had no experience of working with lime. In the absence of a quality lime mixture, both lime and cement were tried. Luckily for us, this project involved little work with lime mortar dentistry repairs and re-pointing.

Experimentation is a casualty in government funded work; there is little scope for trial and error. As a result there can be no testing of the behaviour of different mixes of lime mortar, or the impact of manually/ mechanically cleaning of paint over the masonry, a dry run of external illumination or even experimentation with colours in lime wash. In the private sector this freedom does exist; so it is essential that rigid rules are somewhat relaxed and a monetary provision kept for such experimentation.

 

 

The project was successful in transforming a rundown, neglected and unsafe building into one of the most visited destinations in Pune. The project stretched for three years though it was actually meant to be completed in a year’s time. Consequently, from a business point of view, it was a financial disaster, but gave full professional satisfaction. It demonstrated that with some flexibility in the rules and following fair market practice, and with a good client and sponsor, a magical transformation can occur despite relatively modest finances. What was once an unsafe place is now a national monument and its custody with the ASI. It’s not only the palace but the garden as well that has been transformed to its former glory.

 

Footnote:

1. E.B. Havel, Indian Architecture. S. Chand and Co, p. 31.