an architect-tod- non-indian

an architect-tod-indian

A review on Invisible Cities by Marco Polo

What is a city? A city had always been a modern settlement for me with certain code of conducts and levels of sophistication. But reading this book and grasping the understanding of the author added new dimensions to my beliefs of what constitutes a city. The philosophies of the author are brought forward in the form of a conversation between the merchant of Venice Marco Polo and the king Kublai Khan.

Every thought of an individual, every act of its resident whether founder or visitor or a later settler in past  present or even the future unseen tells us the story of what a city is today. It is beyond the just the built mass and the voids that these masses create. It is the soul which prevails in these things. Every street in a city, every square or junction, every balconies of houses along, every café in the marketplace and even every pavestone has its own story to tell about what city has been to its existence and how it would have been had he not gone through all these sufferings or joy. It would have been an image of itself but which is something else prevailing in this present. Even the desires of certain individual can change the destined course of a city.

A city’s character is also defined by its surroundings and natural settings. In reality city is not an object. It’s a real illusion, an image which repeats itself not in person or words but signs. Some find this image moving, sometimes upwards or downwards, sometimes inside, sometimes outside and sometimes nowhere, just stable in itself.

Marco Polo’s describes cities minutely rather than on an urban level most of the times. Even the colours of the wall, beggars in the streets and dreams of people constitute an important aspect of defining a city.

Some places he has stated the city as a trading company which trades in dreams , memory, etc., everything that is untradeable. In cities description words fail and absurd objects and gestures start getting more informative in this course of narrative as there is no LANGUAGE WITHOUT DECIET.

What I got from the depth I reached in the first reading was that the city leads unhappiness to happiness and vice versa and gives us choices to make to tackle the infernos of our lifes, either accept it as it is or find joys in those infernos and allow those joys to dominate and the city and its residents always live happily forever whatever be the reason.

tod assignmen on self observation--rough draft...."chisti rocks"

chalte-chalte.......random ones

kisi ne kaha tu acha hai
to wo acha ho gaya
kisi ne kaha tu to bura hai
to wo bura bhi ho gaya
kisi ne kaha ki tu koi nahi
to wo benaam ho gaya
kuch jaane-anjaane chehron ke lie
kyun usne khud ko kho dia???


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haseen raat chaaai hai
hooton par kai parton mein chupi wo baat aai hai
keh lene de mujhe
keh lene de is baat ko
beh jaane de mere is jazbaat ko
nahi ise rooko mat
nahi
kyonki kuch hi dor ek lambi gehri khaai hai

mein jaanta hun
haan mein jaanta hun ki tuut jaenge ye
jharne mein basi paani ki har ek boond ki tarah
magar pehle chalchala ki inhe behne to do
jo dastaan ye ab tak basakar lae hain use kehne to do
bas thodi der aur mujhe is haal mein rehne to do
bas thodi der aur...


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pata hai tumhe
aaj firse teez baarish hui thi
par naa hi wo saawan ke jhule laute
na hi pyaar mein madmast tanhainyon ki sauagatein aai
bas mein ek daarshak bankar dekhta raha

"MY FIELDS" Poos ki Raat - Munshi Premchand

Since I was a kid I have been a big fan of Premchand, specially because of the way he connects his story to the soul and core of a village lifestyle or “dehaat”. May be he tries to convey his own struggle through his stories that he faced all through his lifetime until his death.

This one of his short stories named “Poos ki Raat” (January night) is a story of a tenant farmer named Halku and his plight against zameendari system(landlordship) prevalent in colonial India. The settings are that of any small village of north India in and around U.P. of that time.

Halku’s fields are the centerline of this plot, being both, his only source of income as well as cause of all his problems. Basically he had to choose between a blanket which got along with it the insult by the landlord for not paying the lagaan (tax) or cold and chilly january nights in the field to guard it upholding his honour and pride. He always had an option of chucking the job of farming and being a paid labour, but an Indian with any pride wouldn’t do so in those times. He upheld the same honour and pride by chucking the insults and choosing cold chilly nights in ‘his fields’.

Most of us have a romantic image of a field ready for a harvest. But here when he lies down over his ‘khaat’ (cot) with just an old shawl over him, brings out a completely opposite image of what we conceived it to be. Then too he wasn’t devasted and was still affectionate towards his dog, Jabra, the dog who like him left behind all the warmth of home and followed him to protect ‘its field’. The field establishes the connection between a dog and its master in a wonderful way. As the writer describes Halku sleeping under the shelter of cane leaves he also meant to show the significance those crops held. They were the shelter of his life, though with leakage everywhere.

The act of making a fire to keep a check on cold waves in an open field creates a wonderful picture in our mind. Here it is the only refuge for Halku against the cold waves. Even his own fields had turned against him in the darkness of night and transformed into scary and dangerous bushes. When the nilgai were destroying his field, he knew it, but couldn’t gather the will to get up and save it. It seemed that it was because of the physical inability that the cold weather had caused to him but more of it was because of the mental effect that the fields have had over his life. It was like loving someone. We hold on to the relationship as long as possible, even though if we know its devastating our life. But the moment we decide to quit it we just don’t bother about it any more or how bad the relationship becomes. We just ‘let it happen’ and take its course. And if we are enthusiastic enough towards life we take it as a new beginning and tackle the future with the learnings from past. That’s what Halku did. And as we say in India ‘jo hota hai sab ache ke lie hi hota hai’.

The place which i still remember - AJANTA CAVES

I have always regretted to forget about the places that I have visited, specially in my childhood. But I can exactly remember this trip which I made in standard 6^th’s summer vacations. I was bedridden for a month due to typhoid and then came this wonderful trip to ajanta caves with my mom, dad and mama (maternal uncle). The first striking feature which mesmerized me was the surprise element of the sole existence of the cave on the site. No wonder why it was hidden in the hill side forests for a long time until a british officer discovered it while hunting. History attached to the place of visit has always fascinated me. Just the pillars in front elevation of the caves were visible from distance.

Then of what I remember we entered what I now have come to know as ‘singly loaded corridor ‘, with one side having the great and gorgeous caves at intervals and the other side a continuous deadly steep valley. As I entered the 1^st cave through its porch I discovered the actual proportions and robustness of the pillars I saw earlier. I was mesmerized and shocked to see the level of detailing in the cave temples. Then a moment later I realized the obvious fact that it has been ‘carved out of the hill’, which increased my respect for their constructors and as well as my country’s rich historical past manifold times.

Now the part of the guide that we hired came in. He explained us how actually the cave was constructed, the purpose of its construction, who and when constructed it, etc. He told us about the intricate wall paintings which are considered as one of the oldest in Indian history and that they were from the jataka tales; stories from buddha’s life or his incarnations’. The sudden darkness that we face as soon as we enter the cave and light piercing in through fenestrations created an aura by itself. The place was a vihara; where Buddhist monks live; so the area where they used to meditate was completely dark with niches given for them to sit and meditate. I sat on one of them myself and was wondering how in this world the artisians painted the murals there and at the very moment the guide told us about the large depression in the centre of the hall, which was used as sunlight reflector when filled with water coming down the streams on the hills.

There were many more caves, some of them didn’t even looked like ones and had nice gateways for the entrances. Some had stupas inside unlike the other ones which had statues of Buddha. Then most of the caves seemed repetitive to me and I was bored of it, children are allowed to be so. But the effect the first  few caves had on me is still afresh and after coming into the field of architecture I again want to go back and visit this place so that I can have a better understanding of it and appreciate it even more. I would also like to state here that this description was based on memory when I was 11 years of age, so sorry if any of the facts were    misleading or wrong.