Showing posts with label IT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IT. Show all posts

Saturday, 14 April 2012

Architecture ~ Breathing space in Bangalore


(This piece dates back to 2004)

Living spaces tell the story of people. What do our homes and office interiors tell us about ourselves? A peek into the architectural scene in Bangalore ~ India's IT and BPO boomtown.


Who are we? Where are we heading? Do our homes and workspaces reflect our lives, our dreams, our critical needs?

These questions prowl the private and public spaces of cosmopolitan Bangalore, in the wake of its surge of upmarket buildings and its escalating real estate market in 2004.

The IT and BPO boomtown, now stretching skywards with look-alike office blocks plush with tinted glass and metallic frontage, represents all the contradictions inherent in Indian corporate-oriented metropolitan growth today. Do cloned buildings, transplanted from a western ambience, work within our context? The Infosys campus, General Electric, Microsoft, and Hewlett Packard offices are cases in point. On the home front, sprawling residential blocks fitted with a swimming pool, sauna, gym, club house and so on, have become standard fare. The order of the day encompasses projects by Sobha, Brigade, Prestige, Renaissance, Puravankara and other major players among builders. Their creations line the teeming corridor adjacent to the ITPL and Electronic City.

But do bright hued, plug-and-play paperless workstations, surrounded by quick-bite eateries, make for superior ideation? Do Italian kitchens, marble floors and made-in-the-US living spaces spell domestic bliss? What do our interiors reveal about us?


Ahmedabad-trained architects Nisha Mathew and Soumitro Ghosh, who won the November 1993 nationwide contest to convert Bangalore's 20-acre Central Jail into a Freedom Park, have an interesting take on the anonymity of current trends: "Bangalore's no different from any other developing economy that's seeing an unprecedented spurt. So, the choice of design and materials is informed by the imagined aesthetic need of a spectrum of corporate clients. They need to project an international image of being technologically advanced. So, their aesthetics are derived from either the parent company abroad or the offshore client."

In a time of soulless, detached MNC hire-and-fire employment, workspaces reflect the diminished entity of the individual. Architect Meeta Jain, another Ahmedabad graduate, agrees, "The clone look results from interior space seen as territory to be occupied by more efficient layout, rather than a qualitative work environment. Stereotyping with the use of available workstation ensembles reduces interior design to a mere selection of fabric, window blinds, carpets and false ceiling light fixtures."

Looking homewards, interior designer Ashwini Tandon notes, "My clients from the IT and BPO sector come into meetings sleepy-eyed after midday, following night shifts. They are reluctant to share the nitty-gritty of their lifestyles. All they want is to hand over the key to a flat they've bought — and collect the key once we're through." Their wish lists stem from travel abroad and disposable incomes. They seek totally wired, organised systems for living, and 24x7 stores... perhaps a single electrical switch-off point near the flat exit as they tear out to work. Or an old-fashioned, paatima-style curved chopping blade, but cleverly concealed within a kitchen packed with imported hobs, electric chimneys and other gadgets.

Big bucks fuel outsize dreams, as sci-fi meets Bollywood head-on in everyday Bangalore. An MNC or business couple in the high-income bracket, given to party hopping, might invite their interior decorator to go shopping for French or Italian designer furniture in Dubai. Or seek a tie-organiser or velvet-lined earring organiser in his-and-hers bedroom segments that segregate colour-coordinated party and daily wear in separate walk-in wardrobes. Mix-and-match kitchens sourced from imported glossy magazines are much prized, often by couples that eat out constantly in this food-trendy city.


Yet, amidst the monotony of mindless urban growth, some signs of people-responsive interiors emerge. They crop up in IT training spaces that grow out of transformed tobacco warehouses such as ITC Infotech's Epicentre by local architecture's enfant terrible K. Jaisim. Or an offbeat fashion studio for Gokaldas Images at Peenya by architect Meeta Jain and Swiss-born interior designer Georg Leuzinger. Or Meeta's edgy residence for artist Suresh Jayaram that yokes together quirky facades with an unobstructed flow of space. Or a gym fanatic's residence that allows exercise to fit in with social interaction in a low-budget, compact flat that Ashwini designed. Or Sua House, art collector-businessman Abhishek Poddar's office that combines aspects of a gallery with business priorities within a sliced, box-like space distinguished by wedges of light, rendered by Nisha and Soumitro.


Foreign accessories in lifestyle stores spur the city's demands. They include furniture brands like Faberge, Style Spa and Durian, sourced from either Europe or Malaysia, with other options including Thai water hyacinth furniture. But local ware proves equally classy. Such as the Himatsingka Seide group's minimalist `Atmosphere' store that has, since September 2003, retailed exquisite premium furnishings in Brazilian/Chinese silk or Italian cotton at between Rs 1,000 and Rs 1,800 a metre, yardage that has conquered the export market for over 17 years. Or take `Pause', that offers top-end furniture choices. Such as a slant-sided Burma teak closet, clad in burgundy leather, or a muted blue chaise lounge with stainless steel legs. Or a choice of `the world's best lights' from Milan-based Flos.

Plush options apart, are our interiors environment-conscious? "In our largely tropical country, our envelopes need to breathe naturally. When the envelope has been infused with sufficient light, air and sky, it makes for a harmonious space. Then, it doesn't matter what flooring or furniture we choose. But we use excessive glass and don't shade it enough, creating virtual incinerators or sealed environments that completely rely on air-conditioning or artificial day lighting. By using such high-energy systems, we are behaving irresponsibly towards the environment," says Meeta.

Within these ambivalent constants, what have Bangalore's creative architects and interior decorators achieved over the past five years? Each of their breakaway, breathe-easy projects have stemmed from individuals unafraid to stand alone in a distinctive space.


Jaisim, ever inspired by Ayn Rand's Howard Roark in The Fountainhead, recently created a small, free-form warped shell with mud pots for a small consultancy firm in Indiranagar, reducing interior costs barring equipment to almost nil. But that's besides his major interior redefinition — ITC's Epicentre, with a Zen garden with stone stools linked to connectivity, perfect for a chill-out software session, and a training room roofed with inverted pots for perfect acoustics, its terracotta-and-olive curves contained in a redefined, century-old tobacco warehouse.

As Meeta notes, there are "interiors to live up to, and interiors for living." For Suresh's mind liberating home, executed in January 2003 with a budget of Rs 8 lakh, she conceived of a residence with minimal divisions, which integrates pre-acquired doors and windows, celebrating the resultant ambience. Cost-effective yellow oxide and Kadapa/ Kotah stone added to the space's essential mood, distinguished by a terrace with granite seats under the stars.

Meeta and Georg chose an alternative route to the Gokaldas Images studio, formerly a terrace, completed in August 2003 at a cost of about Rs 30 lakh. An overhead `street of light' skylight warms the workspace, where glass walls open onto a garden below. Amidst snappy visual boards, projection spaces and a trial room, the duo designed custom-made workstations that integrate pin-up, writing and graphic surfaces. The workspaces are two-level led, with a lower one for computers while the higher one allows for fabric use.

Nisha and Soumitro's concept for Sua House is equally personalised. Light and transparency are its keynotes throughout three subtly articulated levels. These features are enhanced by a staircase of suspended steel sections with treads of local hardwood, the `glass box' meeting rooms at each level, the barcode-like white marble inlay into grey-green Kotah stone for the flooring, even the frosted-glass light wedges that seal in the inner world. Within it, the owners retain their privacy at the top floor, the middle floor is a meeting zone, while the front isolates the managers' cells.

Judging by the far-from-scenic overview, whom are we taking our interior cues from? "The lifestyles of the rich and famous... an imitation of the pseudo-royals. Our films, our media," laughs Jaisim.

Or, as Ashwini points out, "Some clients want a totally European bathroom with a sunken-in tub and expensive fittings. But they're unwilling to take the bucket out of the bathroom. Or give up the traditional washing stone."

What of future portents? "Technological gimmickry is a big one. Materials that will soon arrive in the market can blow one's imagination. Like glass that changes from opaque to colour to clear. Or walls so thin, yet so strong, you can warp them around any form. Wireless power and communication lines," says Jaisim. "Sound and odour, now very young in interior design, will play significant roles. Imagine creating at will fragrances to suit a mood or change one... "

That brings us full circle to the crux of the ongoing interiors debate. A debate that points to an urban Indian identity crisis. For, as Jaisim says in his inimitable manner, "It's all very well to talk of history, heritage, culture and all that. But who are we as a people? As individuals, where do we belong? Do we have an identity within our civilisation? In India today, we are at the stage of instant interior design! No wonder we are where we are."




Friday, 9 March 2012

Cities: Bangalore 2000 ~ Colonial traditions, cyber dreams

When IT giants Hewlett-Packard,  Infosys and Wipro set up shop in Bangalore,  they paved the way for an influx of engineering graduates,  mushrooming computer schools and a dollar-driven lifestyle. A natural corollary was the dotcom boom, now on the verge of a bust. While traditionally, parents in Bangalore dreamt of an independent bungalow on retirement, their cyber-competitive children have been catapulted into jet-setting lifestyles - monthly salaries of over a Rs 100,000, fast foods to fuel a global image and a luxury flat within five years.
With its laid-back lifestyle and colonial culture under threat, its pensioners overtaken by the yuppie IT set, and 'IT Boom City' replacing its 'Garden City' nomenclature, Bangalore is a city in transition, in search of itself.


Millennial Bangalore defies categorisation, characterised as it is by in-built contradictions. Should we focus on its predominantly Anglo-Indian, colonial-tinted culture? Or its conservative old-city enclaves? Should we discuss the Information Technology (IT) boom city? Or the pleasures of a former pensioner's paradise? Does the Garden City of evergreen Cubbon Park and Lalbagh merit a look? Or the city's lack of civic infrastructure?

When Kempe Gowda I, dynamic ruler of the Yelahanka Nadu dynasty built a mud fort here in 1537, could he have imagined it as a bustling metropolis? In fact, today's Bangalore is many cities rolled into one.
No matter what the route to the heart of Bangalore's seven million residents, some facts are irrefutable. The fragrance of 'sampige' (jasmine) blooms has given way to exhaust fumes and the pleasures of walking in the park to pub hopping and cyber-chats.

Sprawling bungalows set amidst bloom-rich settings are shadowed by glass-fronted skyscrapers. Rickety public buses hug the kerb as sleek Mercedes Benz and other hot wheels zip by on potholed roads. Even leisurely lunches at Koshy's restaurant, dating back to 1952, or the once whites-only Bangalore Club, are punctuated with cell-phone chatter. As for the Turf Club, a British legacy, it is now deemed less fashionable than bowling alleys and artificial ice-skating rinks.

What's the current flavour of Bangalore, the Karnataka capital that is not as steeped in local culture as, say Mysore? Unlike the Tamil culture that permeates Chennai, Bangalore doesn't flaunt its ethnic roots. As a visitor from Berlin observed in 1994, "This doesn't seem like an Indian city. It's so westernised!" That's apparent in the many tongues that fill the air, whether at the 1812-consecrated St. Mark's Cathedral or at the famous Mavali Tiffin Rooms (MTR) eatery where the dosas (papery rice pancakes) ooze pure ghee (clarified butter).

In 1997, only 38 per cent of Bangaloreans listed Kannada as their mother tongue. This cosmopolitan city accepts Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam and Hindi with equal fluency. But the city's very language has since changed. Cyber lingo peppers the conversation and computer geeks, who access friends on the ether and work round-the-clock, abound. It's the virtual life for real.



Even tradition-bound MTR has launched ice-cream kiosks selling cones for Rs 5 (1 US $ = Rs 47) and ready-to-eat bisibele-bath (a local preparation of rice and lentils) in foil pouches.

Is there a buzz in Bangalore over the Great Digital Revolution that has caused this transformation over the past 15 years or so? Will its dwellers adapt with the typical Bangalorean phrase that trips off every laid-back tongue, "Swalpa adjust madi" (just adjust a little)?

What should its denizens adjust to?

The changing skyline, for one. As Bangalore recently prepared to unveil its first, controversy-dogged flyover at Richmond Circle, English playwright and national literature award-winner Mahesh Dattani, 42, noted, "With this, the aesthetics of the city have gone for a toss. Instead of tile-roofed buildings with ironwork grills, you now have curved concrete lines in your vision. Frankenstein has been created!"

That's true in myriad senses. , When IT giants Hewlett-Packard, Infosys and Wipro set up shop in Bangalore, they paved the way for an influx of graduates from the Indian Institutes of Technology, mushrooming computer schools, and a dollar-driven lifestyle. A natural corollary was the dotcom boom, now on the verge of a bust. While traditionally, parents in Bangalore dreamt of an independent bungalow on retirement, their cyber-competitive children have been catapulted into jet-setting lifestyles - monthly salaries of over a Rs 100,000, fast foods to fuel a global image and a luxury flat within five years.

What's a typical young Bangalorean's dream? Patting his new Ford Ikon, K V Ramnath (name changed on request), 30, who's with chip-making major Intel, explains, "Between 1993 and now, IT has resulted in a wealth creation environment with salaries that are about 25 per cent higher than in other industries. This has artificially given rise to brand consciousness and a whole yuppie culture. IT guys choose Levis jeans, not Newport; a bite at Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC), not a traditional meal at MTR."

While the pseudo confusion of fresh US-returned IT professionals over left and right-hand drive on the road can be amusing, what's less funny is the hole in the heart of Bangalore families whose children have opted for foreign climes. The result? A computer in every well-connected household. That spells grandmothers in Mysore silk saris who are equally adept at steaming dosas and dashing off e-mails.

How does computer-savvy Saraswati Singh, 67, who taught English at the upmarket Mount Carmel College for 20 years, view the changing face of her city since 1954? With a laptop all set to communicate with her two US-based sons, she says, "IT has changed the demographic map of the city. Earlier, women did not go pillion riding in old-fashioned areas like Basavangudi, Jayanagar or Chamrajpet. But with the IT boom, that sleepy 38th Cross in Jayanagar is filled with computer institutes. Net-wise daughters from Jayanagar now go to work. But their full-sleeved salwar-kameezes (loose pyjamas and long shirt), long oily braids and no lipstick sets them apart from the Cantonment crowd - the jean-clad girls with streaked hair who frequent chic Brigade Road pubs. The Jayanagar girls return home at the stroke of 5 p.m. There's no suspicion of free living about them."

Free living. What's that? That's the mantra of the designer label-obsessed IT set with their clothes-strewn chummeries or live-in arrangements, their monetary abandon and non-ethnic lifestyles. They wouldn't be caught dead digging into steaming idlis and sambar off a trolley at Visveswarapuram at midnight, preferring to exercise their taste rights at a Pizza Hut on swank Cunningham Road. If it weren't for their mega-bucks and cooking-free regimen, how would Bangalore's eatery boom --be it Tex-Mex or Lebanese or Thai or Iyengar-- survive?

Primarily residential areas like Kumara Park and Malleswaram encapsulate the city in transition. The squat, brown headquarters of Satyam Infoway towers over the Kumara Park's garden-shaded bungalows, while Malleswaram has a cyber cafe on every street.


How has the government responded? Computers now crowd the corridors of power while swipe-cards govern staff check-ins at the dome-topped Vidhana Soudha (Legislative Assembly) building. Benson Town has been renamed Kadamba Nagar, Richmond Road is now Field Marshal K M Cariappa Road, but civic amenities like water and power continue to be in short supply while the Chief Minister promises a swank international airport by 2004.

Nor has Bangalore a public transport system worth the name. As Maya Jayapal, 60, points out in 'Bangalore: The Story of a City', published in 1997, it then had 1,800 buses, which were rapidly overtaken by the privately owned 100,000 cars, 600,000 two-wheelers and 35,000 three-wheelers. The result? Chronic pollution, a steep rise in asthma rates and soaring accidents on ill-lit roads. In 2000 alone, there were 622 cases of fatal road accidents in Bangalore which took 655 lives.

The cyber-crazy pace has also taken its toll on Bangalore's quality of life. It's visible in IT marriages that are on the rocks within a year, with equally ambitious partners unwilling to compromise, as volunteer counsellors like Jayapal discover. In dreams of entertainment centres containing multiplex cinemas and mega-malls, of food courts and swank resorts which will benefit the top five per cent of its citizens, while sewage clogs the slums on the periphery of the city.

The city's naturally salubrious climate has been ruined by injudicious felling of shady jacaranda and gulmohur trees. Where once homes did not even have ceiling fans, air-cooler companies are now doing brisk business while sweaty Bangaloreans try to stave off heat that they are simply not accustomed to.

In 2000, a citizen's initiative that included corporate super-achievers like Nandan Nilekani of Infosys and Kiran Majumdar-Shaw of Biocon India joined hands with the government to set up the Bangalore Agenda Task Force (BATF). For a while, it made waves and raised hopes of a change for the better. But neither has the bureaucracy been made accountable nor have the overflowing garbage bins been tackled. The BATF is no longer a strident voice, but a whimper.

Perhaps the state of Bangalore's Great Digital Divide is best evoked by Dattani's image: "Bangalore recently had coils of colourful fibre-optic cables on its pavements. Under a blazing sun, I saw a skinny old man with a crowbar digging a trench to lay them out. I realised then that it wasn't going to touch his life at all."


Whose Bangalore is this, anyway?









(Originally in Women's Feature Service, 2000)