“through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us. . ."

Thursday, February 25, 2016

“I can feel it coming in the air…”


It is in the air, the smell
Of rotting garbage,
Of burnt corpses hanging out from the bogies.
Of vomit and urine
From Kanniyah’s innards.
The stain of chewed betel
Or is it blood splattered
On the walls of democracy? 


It is in the air, the smell
Of fear.


Come out, come out of the cubicles
The partitions and the corridors
From behind the tinted glasses
Out to the open fields
Where we can hold our heads
High, without fear and breathe
The air of freedom.


************* Balachandran V. 25.02.2016


Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Firefuck



“Let’s, let’s do it, uh”, asked Adam.
Pouting her lips,
Offering the cleavage, 
Eve, fluttering her eyelids, asked – “do what?”
“Let’s light up the forest”, said he
Looking up at the green hills,
“What fun would it be! This
Breeze would spread it far and wide”.
Widening her legs, inviting him, she said-
“Oh yeah, let’s, let’s have a firefuck!”
“Birds would rise, panicking from their roosts
Nests toast to a nice crisp.”
Drawing her close, he slapped hard;
Her rump burned; she moaned.
“Monkeys will fly, through the sky
The tufts on their tails, dancing balls of fire!”
Flies and flying ash looked alike.
Butterflies flew like flakes of corn.
Flames licked and ate the trees
As their hearts cracked and split.
Grass spread a carpet in red
For the firefuckers, to fuck to death.
A light in green smouldered and glowed,
In the mother-wolf's eyes, as she died.
************** Balachandran V. Nagercoil.02.02.2016
View from my residence. Forest fire, Nagercoil. 02.02.2016

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

To My Wannabe Friends in Facebook.


I am flattered, no doubt
And pleased to some extent
That you request me to be your friend.
But pray, why?
Struck by my looks, I guess not.
Impressed by my words, I'd like to think so.
Seen a kindred soul, well, that's nice.
Enamoured by my images, hmm, well, maybe
Or not.
Then, tell me why.
I am not hot and sexy
Neither rich nor famous
Not a chance that I will win
The Nobel prize.
Be my friend, but tell me at least once
Why I should clutter your page
And vice versa.
My heart is not a door-less bus
That stops at every wave of a hand.
Not a passenger train
That you can enter ticket-less.
I am not a leaky tap
By the side of a street
Where you may quench your thirst;
Drink from me, but close the tap,
Let not my blood drip away.
I am not the Banyan tree
By the side of a blistering road
Where you may rest awhile and leave
Leaving your wastes strewn over my lap.
Friendship, oh my wannabe friend,
Is not a casual thing
I am not a hooker that
you can hump and leave.
Be my friend, but tell me
Beforehand why
So that I may know you
So that I can love you
So that we may cherish
Each other.
An offer of friendship
Is not a frivolous act.
To be a part of me
Of my life, of my thoughts
Is to enter
The sanctum sanctorum
Of my being.
Do not trample upon my heart.
****************** Balachandran V. Nagercoil. 13.01.2016

Saturday, January 2, 2016

Songs that Live with You



One of the songs that have stayed with me all my life is this: Kelungal tharappedum. It is a Tamil Christian gospel song. I think I heard it the first time when I was ten or eleven. Nearly 50 years! A long time for a song to have been in the background of my life. I am not religious; Hindu or Christian or anything, but the voice of the singer, that appeal to greater powers, man's helplessness and his hopes that his life will be redeemed by the Lord - it haunts me. The immensity of our insignificance resonates in the song. Whatever ill may befall us, faith in an external power power us to survive...
One Sunday, as I placidly cycled along the vast green landscape of Nagercoil, the strains of this song came wafting along in the morning breeze. It followed me, in rhythm with my breath, in rhythm with each cycle of the pedals. I look at the birds, the dragonflies, the lone men working in the paddy fields. I look at the blue blue sky, the rock outcrop of the last of the hills gradually sinking into the sea...
I hum the chorus of the song, the only lines I know from boyhood.. 'Kelungal tharappedum, thattungal thirakkapedum, thedungal kidakkumentraaar, Jesu thedungal kidakkumentrar...' "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you." I do no know any other song as powerful and simple as this that can give hope to mankind. Though I will be singing the song to myself, for I have faith only in the powers of Nature...

Celebrating Time




Quoting Einstein, a friend throws a damp towel:
"The dividing line between past, present, and future
Is an illusion". So, she asks: What New Year???
Another philosophizes: It is just another sunset,
Another night and just one more sunrise, what’s new, he asks.
As 12 o’clock midnight approach, I sit all alone.
Not even a drink beside me, no music, no friends
No joy and revelry.
As 12 o’clock midnight approach,
I cock an ear for the sounds of fireworks
The screams of motorbikes, the shouts of greetings
The wail of the siren.
My dog, sound asleep at my feet.
As 12 o’clock midnight approach,
I lean back on the chair and
Remember yesteryears, the New Years gone by
Streaking, drunk, on the highways
Weathering a storm, snowed under
High on the grasslands, in utter silence
High on Grass, listening to Kishori
Slumped, head sunk deep into the chest
Drunk, absolutely soused.
Bidding goodbye forever to a friend,
Together looking out at the sea.
Mr. Einstein, you may be right, but
Tell me, what isn’t an illusion?
Hiroshima and Nagasaki maybe?
My friend, to celebrate time
Is to celebrate the passage of life.
We are butchers, chopping Time
Years, months, weeks and days
Down to seconds and nanoseconds;
Popping morsels into our mouths
Fully aware, afraid, that –
We swing our blades down on nothingness…

**************** Balachandran V, Trivandrum, 01.01.2016

Monday, November 16, 2015

The Visually Challenged


Like blinking lights, on-off, on-off 
Flickering lamps, wicks burning out
Nobody to pour in love
Nobody to keep it alive.
What if the lights fade out
And die,
What if the lamp goes dry
What does it matter to one
Born blind....


**********  Balachandran V, 16.11.2015, Trivandrum

Morsels of Love




Like the destitute child, hungry
Gazing at the goodies in the glass shelves
Hoping, that if he looks at it long enough
The glasses would melt
And those inside would come marching out
Straight at him –
Or, the shopkeeper, taking pity on him
Or to get rid of the pest –
Or a kind heart would buy one –
And
Throw it at him, ridding himself of the guilt –
The possibilities are many
For the beggar who cannot choose…

************* Balachandran V, Trivandrum 16.11.2015


Thursday, November 12, 2015

The Hangout





At the click of the mouse -
History is on.
Switch off History
At the next.

At a click are gone -
Memories,
Love, longing
Rage, Sorrow
The moments you spent -
With me.

No, the next will not
Bring them back.

I shudder to think -
If in real, as in that virtual
You would flick - me off
With a click.


**********  Balachandran V, Trivandrum  12.11.2015

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

The Winds of Nagercoil




Like being hit by a speeding truck
And then, like a lover’s  gentle caress
The winds of Nagercoil blow
From the east, the west and all around.

Among the grass, the dragonflies veer-
Swing up and away and then twist
To drop: pummelled by the winds, they
Grapple with the twigs as if on a joyride.
The ponds ripple; little waves rise
Like young girls shivering at their lovers’ kiss.

The crows and doves like drunkards
Stagger in the air; the tall palms sway
Their leaves chatter, huddled close like kids
The green paddy, as far as the eye can see-
Undulating waves of a vast sea.

Then – the winds would drop
As suddenly as it blew.
Dead calm – and you wonder
If the winds were a dream,
A hallucination.

Nagercoil suits me fine.
Because, within me too,
The winds blow, blow, blow –
And die - all of a sudden...

*************  Balachandran V. Trivandrum. 11.11.2015

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Eruptions of Love


In the mountains, high up in the grasslands
Where mist swirls; where every blade of grass
Is wet with dew –
Tread softly, for you are trampling upon beads of love.

Love erupts slowly, the moist soil swells –
As you watch, it surges, drips
Drop by drop.  Press your face onto the soil -
On your nose, your lips, your tongue
Love spreads into your blood.

Love erupts at the tips of your fingers, my love!
Caress my face, touch my lips!
Run your fingers over my ravaged face
Over my ageing skin; perhaps it will glow again
At your touch!

Love spurts, my dear, red beads of blood
As you tear into me in ecstasy!
Love, Love, as you hold me in your arms,
Flares fly high; I am blinded by the light!

Love flows only from your fingertips –
Touch me when you love –
And – before you leave, for ever…



****** Balachandran V, Trivandrum 03.11.2015

Sunday, November 1, 2015

The Clam



The clam is a lucky creature
because it has a shell to go back to.
Or it has a shell to live in
Clammed, keeping others out.
The only problem being a clam
Is that people would pry it open
For a pearl or two
And would discard when disappointed.
It is indeed sad for the clam
To lie disembowelled, splayed,
Displaying all its innards
To all and sundry passing by...
************* Balachandran V. Trivandrum 01.11.2015

Borderline


Borderline is a thrilling word
Borders between countries
Evoking images of the drama at Vagha.
Borderline is ominous
The borderline between
sanity and insanity.
Borderline between friendship
and intimacy,
Bringing into focus
And blurring your vision, the line you step out
From restrained emotions to riotous expressions
of love.
To stand on the borderline
Is to hold your life in your hands
To decide to cross over or not.
Borderline is an exciting place to be -
Until, with an empty stomach in the morning
You are told by the pretty girl -
"Your blood sugar level is on the borderline!"
****************** Balachandran V 0730hrs 01.11.2015 Trivandrum

Thursday, June 25, 2015

The Housewarming


New house -
Sweep up the courtyard, scrub down the floor
Open the windows, let in the Sun.
Let in the cool breeze, let in the laughter
Let draperies sway on a dancing spree.


Light up the lamp, boil the milk
Let it spill, dousing the flame.
Scatter the blooms, the sweetest of scents
Serve up the food, pour down the wine.

Flowers in pots, dogs in cages,
God’s in heaven; all’s right with the world.

Now bring it in then, the red coloured tin!
For, they hide -
Behind the doors and nooks and corners
Below the shelves and show-off cases
Beneath the steps, above the screens –
Hiding in despair, huddling in horror
Trembling in wrath, fraught with fear
Making themselves unseen to us.

Now bring it on then, the red coloured tin
And let’s douse it on the ant and roach.
Let’s watch the spider stagger and die
Let’s behold the shriveling up ants.

Cockroaches run helter and skelter
Only to pause – and turn over-
All legs up and dancing in the air.

****** Balachandran. V. Trivandrum 19.07.2015

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Old, Empty Bottles





Cleaning up my attic the other day
I chance upon some empty bottles.
From the fading, moth-eaten labels
I read the names; Glenfiddich, Glenmorangie
Jack Daniels, Jameson, Johnny Walker, Chivas Regal
Old Putney, Old Smuggler and a few others –
And there! My eternal favourite, Glenlivet!
Gifts from old friends, none I could afford.

I pull out the corks, twist open the caps and
Breathe in, deeply, the exquisite fragrance
Look lovingly at the traces of golden liquid, the dregs
Languishing at the bottom.

Life, as you get old, is like a near- empty
Bottle of Single Malt
Carrying the haloed memories
Of happiness, of abandon
Of gaiety and camaraderie.
Life, the elders would know,
Is all about remembering the smells,
The sights and sounds of the past.

In the fading light, I smile to myself
Ruefully.
Yet - I am happy
That I had once tasted good things
That I could recollect and rejoice now
Though, they are just memories.

************    Balachandran V, Trivandrum 07-10-2014


Saturday, July 26, 2014

ഔട്ട്‌ ഓഫ് ഫോക്കസ്





ഇത് ആദ്യമേ ഡിലീറ്റ് ചെയ്യേണ്ടതാണ്
ഈ അവ്യക്ത ചിത്രം.
ഒരു തുമ്പിയും ഒരു കിളിയും ഒരേ ഫ്രെയ്മില്‍
പിന്നെ ചില പച്ചിലകളും വള്ളികളും.
ക്യാമറക്ക്‌ പിറകില്‍ ഞാനുണ്ടേ!

ഒരു തുമ്പിയും ഒരു കിളിയും
ചില പച്ചിലകളും ഞാനും
ഒരുമിച്ച്.
രാവിലത്തെ ഇളം വെയില്
കാറ്റിന്റെ തണുപ്പ് മാറിയിട്ടില്ല
സ്വാമി ശരണം, അടുത്തെങ്ങും
ഒരു മനുഷ്യനുമില്ല.
ഒരു പട്ടി എന്റെ ബിസ്കറ്റുകള്‍ തിന്നിട്ട്
ഇനിയും കിട്ടാന്‍ വകുപ്പുണ്ടെന്ന തിരിച്ചറിവില്‍
പുറകില്‍ അല്പം മാറി കിടപ്പുണ്ട്.

ഞാന്‍ തിരിഞ്ഞു നോക്കുമ്പോള്‍
എന്തിനാണ് ഈ ചാവാളിപട്ടി
വാലാട്ടുന്നത്?

കുറച്ചു ദൂരെ, കായല്‍ക്കരയില്‍, പിത്ര്‍ ബലി.
എന്റെ അച്ഛന്‍, എന്റെ അമ്മ -
 എന്റെ ബലിയിടല്‍ കാത്തിരിപ്പുണ്ടോ എന്തോ.

അവ്യക്തമെങ്കിലും, ഒരു ഫ്രെയ്മില്‍
ഒരു തുമ്പിയും ഒരു കിളിയും
ചില പച്ചിലകളും ഞാനും ഒരു പട്ടിയും
എന്‍റെ അമ്മയും അച്ഛനും
പഴയ, മങ്ങുന്ന ഓര്‍മകളും.

എല്ലാം വ്യക്തമായി തന്നെ കാണണമെന്ന്
എന്തിനാണ് നാം  വാശി പിടിക്കുന്നത്‌?

*********  ബാലചന്ദ്രന്‍ വി. പുഞ്ചക്കരി, 27.07.2014

Friday, June 27, 2014

ദേ, ഒരു പെണ്ണ് സൈക്കിൾ ചവിട്ടുന്നു!









കൈത്തണ്ടയിൽ കരിവളകളെന്നപോലെ

വിരലുകൾ കൈപ്പിടിയിൽ ചുറ്റി
കറങ്ങുന്ന ചക്രങ്ങളെ നോവിക്കാതെ
അവൾ നിന്നുകൊണ്ട് ചവിട്ടുകയാണ്.

പൊള്ളികുമിളിച്ച വിടർന്ന പാവാട
പുറകിലേക്ക് പൊന്ദുന്നു.
ചുരുളുന്ന കാറ്റിൽ
അഴിഞ്ഞുലയുന്ന മുടിക്കെട്ട് പാറിപ്പറപ്പിച്ച് അവൾ.
തിരക്കുള്ള തെരുവിൽ 
കുരുക്കുകളിടുന്ന
ഒഴുകുന്ന വണ്ടികൾ.
അതൊന്നും അവൾ കാണുന്നേയില്ല
അവളുടെ മനസ്സിൽ
തലേന്നു രാത്രിയിലെ
കാമുകൻ മാത്രം.

ബാലചന്ദ്രൻ വി  27.06.2014
(അവലംബം : തിമോത്തി വാൽഷ് - ബൈസിക്കിൾ, ബൈസിക്കിൾ, 1958)


Sunday, April 13, 2014

Dark Grass Blue



Dark Grass Blue (Ziseeria karsandra). courtesy Susanth Kumar



It was morning and the sky so blue.
Inside the walls, the giant trees billowed over our heads
Shielding us from the sun and the noises of the city.
The grass was still wet from yesterday's rains.

Holding a little camera, limited in its vision like me
I puttered around, an old man, his head bent
Peering at the little flowers, the bugs and butterflies
Wondering at the different shapes of the leaves
Of the creepers and bushes and trees.

Among the grass, I notice a flutter -
Was it little leaf, blown in the wind?
My mouth slightly open, I look hither and thither-
I can see myself, a gnome lost in a sea of grass.

She must have taken pity on me, for she settled on a blade of grass
And I believe, looked up at me, patiently.
Bending low - oh, how my back aches, how my hands tremble!
Bending low, I reach out to her gently, my fingers, a cradle.

'Oh, well', she said, ' if that would please you so much' -
And hopped up on my fingertip
And looked at me - 'Are you happy?'
I am silent – I think of Basho and his great master
Buddha, who lies head severed and arm ripped off
Buddha is smiling though, and I too smile at her.

“Wake, butterfly, it's late-
We have miles to go, together.”

-------

It is summer; the people too have shrivelled like the land,
Of heat and lack of love.
Dark, our souls have become, for we will pull up the trees
Set fire to the grass and ravage the soil.
Dark, are our hearts, filled with hatred and greed
Light refuses to come in, afraid of the blackness of our minds.

We will cut down the trees, raze down this school
We will not see the Drongo's nest falling onto the ground.
We will not look up at the Kites and Herons
We will not listen to the Cuckoo
We will not feel the shade, the wind in these trees, ever.

My little one, my Dark Grass Blue, you too will be gone.

On this holy ground we shall build our last monuments
To humanity.

********** Balachandran V. 12.04.2014


Note: Dark Grass Blue-Ziseeria karsandra - A common blue butterfly seen in low elevations.Gardens and open places. The Attakulangara School campus of 5 acres of wooded land right in the heart of Trivandrum city with more than 100 trees is earmarked for a bus terminal and shopping complex. A beautiful statuette of the Buddha in the school compound was smashed apart by some miscreants. 


Friday, January 3, 2014

A lamp. A candle. A little beam of light.


Omayra Sanchez (1972 - 1985)

Black. Dark.Death.
Light does not light up her eyes.
Nor does it my heart as I look at you, Omayra.
Your eyes are like the sky;
Where is it, the glimmer of hope, of light?

I want to, but how can I turn away from you?
How can I turn away, Omayra, tell me
From the miseries and tragedies
From the fraility and foolishness of our lives?


Where were I, Omayra, when you slowly
Breathed your last?
Where am I, when the world suffer?

A lamp. A candle. A little beam of light.
For you, Omayra Sanchez Garzon.


*********** Balachandran V, Trivandrum 04.01.2014

Take less from Earth and give more to people: Shirish Beri and the soul of sustainable architecture



The following is the unedited version of a book review I wrote that has appeared in 'Design Detail' ( Vol Issue 5) magazine.  The review is a bit lengthy, but those interested in sustainable architecture might find this book very useful.

Take less from Earth and give more to people:
Shirish Beri and the soul of sustainable architecture

Shirish Beri
Spaces inspired by nature
Mumbai: Super Book House, 2013
244pp. Rs.3,000/-
978 93 81452 01 1

When you build a thing you cannot merely build that thing in isolation, but must also repair the world about it, and within it...and the thing which you make takes its place in the web of nature.” – Christopher Alexander, Architect, 1977

Sometimes one has to go back to the basics to fully understand a concept or a word, so that its meaning light up your mind in a brilliant flash. Take for instance the word, 'architecture'. Google says - 1. 'The art or practice of designing and constructing buildings'; 2. 'The style of a building with regard to a specific period, place or culture'.

Shirish Beri is an artist; a practitioner of architecture – but the style of his creations cannot be confined to a specific period, place or culture. It is an extension, an evolution of the work of the greatest architect of all – Nature. Beri's creations refuse to be bound by the physical elements with which they were constructed; its spirit soars and pervades - he is an architect of the fifth element.

The backdrop
The 1970s was a watershed era in environmental movement across the world. Though it was Rachel Carson's Silent Spring that woke up the West to the man-made disasters in the natural world, the environmental movement went into full swing after the historic Earth Day on April 22, 1970. One of the catchwords that emerged in the sudden enthusiasm for nature and environment was 'sustainability'. Sustainability got itself linked to almost all human developmental activities. Our Common Future, the Brundtland report, defined Sustainable Development as development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs. Though seemingly innocuous and grand, the definition has hidden connotations. Needs of the present should be met with provision for meeting future needs. Who determines the present needs? The future needs? Would everyone agree to equitable distribution of natural wealth? The limits to development across the world cannot be uniform. Sustainability in practice is mere survivability. 43 years hence, how far has the world moved towards sustainable practices in the different spheres of life?

Sustainable architecture, Green architecture – it is all there in the books and buildings aplenty. Sustainable architecture is based on the principle of least negative impact on the environment. This is to be achieved in both design and construction. The design should integrate all the aspects of eco-friendly architecture such as resource conservation, waste minimization, minimal operational and maintenance costs, use of recycled and recyclable materials, etc. In the comprehensive guide to sustainable building, A Primer on Sustainable Building (Rocky Mountain Institute, USA) a checklist of criteria for an ideal sustainable building is given:
  • make appropriate use of land;
  • use water, energy, lumber, and other resources efficiently;
  • enhance human health and productivity;
  • strengthen local economies and communities;
  • conserve plants, animals, endangered species, and natural habitats;
  • protect agricultural, cultural, and archaeological resources;
  • be nice to live in; and
  • be economical to build and operate.

Looking at our national scenario of architecture and construction, one is appalled to note that sustainable architecture is the farthest thing in the mind of our construction industry. Despite the ecological and economical advantages of sustainable or green architecture, the industry spew forth concrete boulders all over the land with scant respect for anything. It reflects the same irreverence that the majority of the general public has for nature. The vernacular architecture, like agriculture, used to be sustainable until a few decades ago when the veritable gold mine of construction industry was discovered. There existed a culture which asked the permission of a tree before cutting it. There was a value system which was based on harmonious co-existence with the rest of the world. Remnants of such lifestyle can still be found in the remaining homesteads in the countryside. Each unit was self-reliant and self-contained. But the market economy destroyed such traditional values.

It is in such a background that we should look at Mr. Beri's architecture. In his introduction, Beri is succinct; the objective of the book is to appreciate the important correlation between the manner in which we understand and live life, and the way we understand and practice architecture. He continues – my works are not designed to create iconic, grand, exhibitionist forms or graphic compositions that attract the eye, but to create more human, socially relevant, more natural and sustainable spaces that nurture the human spirit. Herein lies Beri's philosophy, his vision and mission of architecture. This is the crossroads where we decide to move on to the vast, deep hinterlands of Beri's world or not. This is where we begin the journey into the 'meaningful interface of the enclosed space and the open space'.



The architect
To understand the work of an artist one has to understand the factors which shaped the personality of the artist. Mr Beri introduces his book through a series of images from his boyhood and youth, the periods which were critical to his evolution as an architect. A picture emerges of a life in empathy with nature. Trees, hills and water bodies showed him the pathway to appreciate and absorb the munificence of nature. This sensitivity and awareness of nature that developed in Beri at a young age did not die out or kept under covers as he grew up to adulthood and faced the challenges of life. This sets the man apart; whereas most of us succumb to the pressures of life and choose a life that is seemingly secure, Beri chose the different and challenging path; he undertook a journey to discover the purpose of his profession and his life. An observer can only stand aside and admire his fortune to be able to undertake this journey of self-discovery, which most of us never have the courage and conviction to do, the courage and conviction that made Beri chose to build a cottage in the hills over a Masters in Harvard.


The architecture
Nature is central to Beri's architecture. When for a conventional designer the first thing would be to clear the land, level the ground and build a concrete structure with a few gimmicks thrown in for visual pleasure, Beri begins from the principle of least disturbance to the landscape. 'Spaces inspired by nature' develops through eight essays; working with nature towards sustainability, spirit and space, learning and teaching architecture, aesthetics of ethics in architecture, connecting to nature, our house as our larger body, art as a metaphor in architecture and nature as art in architecture, and architecture without architects. Each section opens with the theme; the philosophy is accentuated with Beri's poems, which are the essence of his thoughts. There are several examples of his work with his initial sketches, plans and photographs which to the layman and architect is a revelation of the master creator's visions. The different sections are not water-tight compartments; on the other hand they flow in and out of each other, like the waters of a cascade. Therein lie the enchanting quality of the writing; perhaps the flaw also, because the lack of linearity may not be to the liking to some.
A CD of the short documentary, ' The Unfolding White', an introduction to Mr Beri's work and vision comes with the book. Scripted, directed, photographed and narrated mainly by himself, Beri proves himself to be an artist of multiple hues.

Mr Beri writes in a pleasant, highly readable conversational style. It is a discussion with fellow architects. One can almost visualize sitting with him beneath a shady tree with the cool lake breeze flowing in and birds chirping and a sleepy dog lying beside your feet. While a layperson who is interested in 'green architecture' would find it a kaleidoscope of different constructions ranging from a residence tucked in a hillock to a modern hospital or an international research centre, the book is primarily focussed on aspiring young architects and practitioners to enable them to discover the 'why' of their chosen profession. The style of writing reminds one of J Krishnamurti's dialogues. The book is an invitation to the reader to question, explore and find answers together with the author. It is not a text book of sustainable architecture, but a journey into its philosophy, ethics and application.

In the section 'Working with nature towards sustainability', the author discusses the concept of sustainability. Sustainability, says Beri, is an attitude based on minimising consumption, empathy with nature and simple living. Its application reflects on designs with lesser energy requirement and construction processes that have lesser energy costs. Reduction of energy costs can be implemented at the different energy use levels. One is end-use energy level where use of green products and gadgets such as CFL bulbs and renewable energy sources such as solar, wind, heat recovery from air-conditioners etc., would reduce the operational costs. Similarly during the construction process, the embodied energy level, use of locally available materials can reduce the energy cost. Using recycled and recyclable materials and recycling of sewage water is another important aspect of sustainable architecture. But is sustainable or green architecture being hijacked as a marketing gimmick, like ecotourism? Beri points out the gaps in the LEED ratings given for 'green' constructions. He muses over the hypocrisy of 'enjoying our green multinational sponsor's hospitality, on our jet flights, we discuss equity' (p.27).










Space and spirituality
One has never been much of a believer in God as the creator, preserver and destroyer of life, an entity watching his/her subjects and doling out rewards and punishments. Yet, one often visits certain temples or churches because an undefinable sense of peace that envelops on entering the premises. Self-awareness as well as an awareness of the larger space around is awakened. One can feel this not only in temples but in different landscapes, from Mount Kailas to the backwaters of Kerala. Sometimes, even just observing a beautiful tree or looking at the loving eyes of one's dog is enough. There is no need to explain, no need to enquire. Everything is brighter, hallowed in a glow that lights one's mind. There are no questions, no answers to seek. Just being there is all that matters. This is the spirituality that Beri talks about, the awakening of consciousness from self-centeredness towards universal totality. This is the sense of interconnectedness with the cosmos. Can we infuse this spirituality into the designs of buildings? I am yet to see Beri's creations in a palpable sense, but the visuals in the book and CD convey more than what is obvious. Every single project detailed in the book connects with the reader. From the simple rough sketch to the photographs, it beckons to look deeper and beyond what the eye perceives. Spirituality cannot be defined or taught; it is an experience, unique to each individual. Only a writer such as Shirish Beri could almost succeed in conveying the spirit of the space. To transfer the intangible spirituality to the tangible is possible only for true artists. Architecture is frozen music, said Goethe. He is wrong; architecture is flowing music, the art of creating spaces throbbing with life; it is the art of breathing life into enclosures.









The key word
Sitting down to write about something, the first question you ask yourself is about the title. Once you have succeeded in framing a title, the rest of the work flows from that phrase. The title is the quintessence of an article. Similarly, Beri in his quest for unique designs searches for the key word that would define the work to come. The client's brief, the topography of the site and the architect's vision are synthesised into a single word. For example, 'learning' was the key word to a school project. For the drug de-addiction centre where the patients had to break out of their mental prison, the theme was 'transparency'. This is the key that opens the door to the grand vistas. What makes each of Mr Beri's works unique is his skill in diving deep into the subterranean caves wherefrom the spirit of the creation bursts forth.

The evidence of Mr Beri's success can be found in the words his clients. Whether it is school, college, research institute, hospital or a house, the inhabitants find the building not as a separate entity, but as an extension of their selves. “We have all become so close and involved with these spaces that we have almost forgotten the building. It has become synonymous with our work and life”. What a rich tribute!

Learning architecture
It would not be incorrect to say that architecture is the flagship of development. Development is synonymous with construction of buildings and buildings. As the science of architecture develops, it is imperative that the future architects be nurtured in the bed of ecological ethics. Beri advocates inclusion of ecology as part of the curriculum for architecture. The cornerstone of ecological ethics is what Aldo Leopold said: 'Examine each question in terms of what is ethically and aesthetically right, as well as what is economically expedient. A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability and beauty of the biotic community; it is wrong when it tends otherwise'. Green architecture is more than pollution control, recycling, energy conservation, etc. The set of values that distinguishes green architecture should be inculcated into the minds of the young architects; they should develop respect and love for the natural environment. Yet, it is easier said than done. Achieving harmony with land is a goal, like absolute justice or liberty. Such aspirations are to be strived for, even if not achieved.

In a 'seamless experience of the physical world', Beri's designs do not stand apart from the surrounding environment. Instead they blend with it, as if the buildings have evolved out of the landscape. One of his most beautiful and fascinating design is that of the Laboratory for the Conservation of Endangered Species (LaCONES) in Hyderabad. Whereas one would associate a research centre with bleak, sombre, solid, straight lined concrete barracks, the LaCONES building looks as if it is part of the large boulders around which it has been raised. There are no straight lines here; the building is akin to a stream that is continuously flowing in and around through the rocks. There are no beginnings and ends; one feels one could explore it forever and discover something new everyday. Nature and the built spaces become one integrated whole.

It is beyond the scope of this review to present the several works in the book. Suffice to say there cannot be many others which can be as fulfilling aesthetically and ethically. There is no compromise on either. Could that be the key to improving the quality of one's life? Of the society? It would be utopian to dream such a transformation in the society at large, but the choice is yours to strive for such a change or not.

Architecture of the unknown architects
Vernacular architecture is concerned with domestic and functional buildings as against monuments, palaces and other public buildings. Beri details the characteristics of vernacular architecture such as climatic adaptation, simplicity, frugality, functionality, humaneness and an overall pragmatic approach which can be noted in the traditional architecture of different regions. But how much has modern architecture imbibed from vernacular architecture? The evidence lies all around us. Though a retro look is gaining popularity these days, it is only another way of flaunting affordability rather than assimilating the qualities of vernacular architecture.

The Adyar foot bridge
'The incomplete, deteriorating bridge
A bridge that starts to bridge
but never reaches the other shore'. (The Adyar foot bridge, p.125)
One hastens to google for images of Adyar foot bridge; Mr Beri's sketch is far better than the photographs. Reading the poem again, one ponders; there cannot be a better symbol – for the failed aspirations, the goals unachieved, and the dreams forsaken. It also symbolizes what we all strive for – to connect to the other shore, the shore of goodness, of happiness, peace and tranquillity. Sustainable architecture is on the other shore; only a few like Mr Beri has reached there. He shows how to build the bridge; the onus is upon us to lay the link that would take us across.

Many of the poems, though tied to architecture and its ethical and philosophical moorings, takes the reader beyond the shores of bricks and concrete. Driving through Khandala Ghat, stumbling over 'dirty potholed mucky roads, expressions of dirty, corrupt, greedy minds', the poet Beri suddenly encounters
' a fresh, clean, cascading, dancing waterfall
amidst lush green foliage and wild flowers
Such a pleasant surprise
kind of restoring one's hope and faith in life'. ( Driving through Khandala Ghat,p.167)
The lines sum up what the reader would feel as he closes 'Spaces inspired by nature'.

The Magnum Opus

Spaces inspired by nature seems to be a compilation of few of the author's previously published papers. It is obvious by the occasional repetitiveness, the recurrence of the same concepts and thoughts in the different essays. The advantage is that one can pick and read at random. The disadvantage is that one does not feel a linear progression from the beginning to the end. While the excellent detailing of Mr Beri's works – the sketches, plans and photographs, along with the reflective, thought-provoking poems, the design and layout of the book makes it a veritable feast for the reader, editing of the text is found wanting. The essays are great read by themselves but a bit of pruning would have reduced the girth and the risk of slipping into tedium. Omissions in proof reading glare in a few places.

One wonders at the total absence of mention of other contemporary architects and architectural thinkers who follow sustainable architecture. Any book of this kind cannot ignore the late Laurie Baker. Perhaps it was intended to showcase Mr Beri's works exclusively.

Vernacular architecture in the Indian context is based on Vaastu Sastra. Many of the concepts of sustainable architecture and reverence for the spirit of nature which lie spread throughout this book are rooted in Vaastu. It would not have been out of place to mention the hoary traditions of Vaastu Shastra.

But the shortcomings of the book are negligible. Through the exposition of the philosophy which is the guiding spirit of his life and work, Shirish Beri has created his magnum opus in writing. Modern, young architects who aspire to leave their individual stamp on the architectural map, who are bold to take a different path from the conventional, who acknowledge the eminence of the Master Architect, Nature : for them, their raison d'etre can be found in Spaces inspired by nature.




Balachandran V

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