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Delhi is a fast-paced, high-tempered, pulsating city. Your relation with the city is turbulent. There are a bunch of stop-gaze-amaze moments. But on the other hand the city presents you glimpses which make you question the extreme atrocities that are nothing but the consequences of the quest for survival.

My first mental note before i began this unplanned and unorganized trip was that the locals are as crude as the city. Right from the moment I was hitched with my prep-paid taxi ride from the airport, i was prepared to face the robust nature of humanity that resides in this city. My driver didn't like where i was headed. Almost like I'd abducted him to a drop off. My guess was that he'd not have a probable customer waiting at the other end. Low-gear, sudden bursts of acceleration that lodged me off my unhinged seat, and an impromptu street-race in the middle of the highway with his like-minded, hot headed contender, seemed like his idea of revenge. In all honesty, I absolutely enjoyed my thrilling welcome to the capital.

For the first couple of hours, the city doused me with toxic fumes, gag-inducing smells and sweltering heat. I questioned my intent with every step. Saw filth that i once watched in an Nat geo documentary on a city in Africa. Delhi is the 3rd metropolitan city I've visited after Mumbai and Bangalore. For me, Delhi is an experiment. An experiment to gauge the qualities of a fast expanding multi-cultural and diverse region. To see the state of human beings. To see life in its raw, unpolished and organic sense. Though the essence of an Indian city is blatantly visible in its fabric, life in Delhi will overwhelm you.

Wandering under an over head wired mess, with a bit of instinct and bit to the strums of instructional directions in a perplexing Haryani accent of my hostel-keeper, i was lost. Already having lost all hope in my technologically advanced gadget of satellite mapping, i opted for the 100% success rate of local consultancy. Again, highly effective. No sooner had i checked in to my bunk and had a chat with a few fellow travelers, i found myself in the old region of the city.

Delhi, like Rome, has been a capital of multiple reigns over the centuries. Architectural imprints of these kingdoms are scattered all over the city's footprint, while the stone and rubble of city-dwellers organically grows over the monumental layers. I hop-skipped-jumped my way through the mucky edges of roads and a sewage system that was craving for attention. Hordes of man-powered tuk-tuks pass by as I'm left spell bound and astonished by the multitude of activities around. It felt like i was being pushed and turned around by an invisible force to witness the carnival. I was dizzy. I felt sick. And i was hungry. Dahi bhallas that i was asked to try, looked like inevitable diarrhea. I went ahead and gauged on it. Two plates to be precise.

What do you think the story of that man who lies on the entrance of Haldiram's could be? His clothes are rags. Wrappers spewed around him like his existence was a thing of the past. Bandages wrapped around his missing limbs from an age-old tragedy had turned pale yellow. What kind of life did this man lead to be where he is in his current situation? This carnival of inhumane madness kept flashing in front of me. Temples celebrated the birth of a million Gods, motorists honked to join the celebration. Life on the streets look like a choreography of tragedy. People were merely puppets in this show of distress. In the distance, I could see the tri-coloured flag, drooping down, waving in a tiresome manner to the tunes of a solemn, weak breeze, almost to mock the situation of its lifeless patriots below. The spectacular grandeur of the red fort which stood proudly in the backdrop seemed to be hidden behind all this madness. A long queue at the entrance, which seemed like a never-ending trail of people, snaked around the periphery of the lush gardens in the foreground of the monument. That, coupled with glaringly loud public announcements in preparation of independence day celebrations, encouraged me to leave the beautiful premise. Wading my way through scores of people in Kabutar market, a name i discovered by overhearing a vendor yell directions to the person at the other end of his cell phone, I desperately try to find my path to the large dome that rose above the shanty market shops. This cacophony felt far more soothing to that of the adjacent Chandni chowk main street. Lesser vehicular traffic was a relief, although it wasn't infrequent that a motorist riding on the wrong side of the law would startle you with a loud honk from the back. "Do sao rupay ke andar banadega Darminder". Innovative sales pitches took over the atmosphere and sealed up the lid of these narrow walkways with a gratuitous number of apparel at display. You know, when someone confronts you with a razor, you don't gasp and scream for help cos he's trying to sell you the product and not slit your throat with it to mug you! I wasn't aware of this normalcy. Pigeons were caged up and taken to places i did not know. Subsequently, i came across the food district that smelt terrific, with wrought iron grills and metal barbecue sticks with glazing red meat which looked like far cry from anything I've tasted before. Kabutar market? I chose to ignore my suspicion and kept walking. An experience of a mosque in India comes with a package of experiencing some gruesome, heart numbing and saddening poverty. I don't believe any one of those unfortunate beings ever left the compound of Allah. Although Allah seems to have left their's. Steps leading up to the Jama masjid had an air of austerity around it as though it rose and elevated itself from the circus below. People do not trust people. Footwear isn't allowed inside the masjid, so you can see people walking around with pairs of floaters in one hand. What an odd site. But it could be worse. Selfie sticks and fake smiles could become embedded in the ritualistic practices of the sanctimonious space. I felt a sense of extreme calmness as i looked around. Pigeons flying around, being hushed in groups while someone fed them. Flights of the birds against the cloudy white sky was an incredible added visual element to the mosque. While people cleansed themselves off their sins in a pool of water directly in front of the entrance to the mosque, i joined a group of people who seemed to have settled adjacent. Most of them were lazying around as their kids ran around playing and screaming. I chose to gaze at the mosque from an angle which i thought represented the beauty of the building in all its splendor. I pulled out my fresh pages and intuitively began to sketch an image of the first scene in the city that made me fall in love.

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Backpacking Eastern-Europe | May 16′

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Architectural design | Semester 9

Design proposal for Worli Business Center

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Architectural design | Semester 9

Cotton-green railway station roof re-design.

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Silence & Movement

The world is filled with noise, make room for some silence. Six minutes and forty-nine seconds of an ingenious mix of brilliant sound-composition and well-captured facial emotions. This piece drove me to think.

We frighten ourselves to wake from a peaceful slumber with jarring alarm tones. We force ourselves to survive amongst individuals ready to stamp their way through in a cruel monetary society. We live in fear of the future. Muscles around your eyes tense up at the thought of tasks that burden you. Tasks those aren’t your own.

The first spout of ice cold-water bulleting your face and calmly rolling down is the first and only spiritually uplifting deed you’ve experienced all day. A moment when time stands still and you breathe. When you’re the only one alive. Your soul’s existence and you in a perplexingly large universe. A moment you know where you fit in the massive scale of things. Massive is your mind. Massive is ‘you’. YOU are the largest creation of your mind. You feel enlightened.

For two seconds.

Your phone buzzes. The teakettle screams. Your world collapses in the weight of itself. It capsizes with the loudest thud. You’re back to the symphony of the most evil construct of your head.

Your routine. 

You run.

We’re all running looking for solace. But the army of millions who have craft fully suppressed nature out of civilization to create a ruckus of man-made madness overpowers your aura, your sense of connecting to something larger than your being. You have no where to hide in this gigantic puzzle created by the pawns of routine.

Life is speeding up. You’re running and you’ve left your soul miles behind while a chaotic harmony of sounds spin on fast forward on your iPod.

“Jump out now!” you scream to yourself. But you’re locked in! You’re panting! You’re scared. Your heart races. It's afraid. It’s running on limited time. “Get me out!” - your war-cry to trace back your soul.

The world pauses. You pause to think. You’re now amongst the mountains. A land untouched since its creation. A place devoid of any consciousness. Silence echoes and rings in you like a chime. You hear your footsteps, every sound pressing  against the mud and reverberating through your body. A gentle hum of the insects tickles your ear. You feel a chill down your spine as your soul sprints back into you from behind. You feel alive again.

You smile.

Will Gadd, an athlete, says: We're all circling the drain everyday of our lives. That's a given. Eat shitty food and avoid exercise and you get larger. The more you sit still, the harder it is to move The less you move, well you get the picture.

Move.

Move faster. Move against gravity's pull and you stay further from the drain for longer.

"I'm 46 years old, a middle aged guy, a dad. Not a youth or an action figure. I do it too- get on the conveyor belt, it's easy. But I'm way more proud of every single day I've spent outside with my lungs burning, chest heaving, sucking for oxygen in life, than I am at times I drank too much, slept in, squandered time by sending useless but somehow important e-mails or whatever. I hate those useless days. I never regretted working out, going for a walk or getting on a train stinking, dripping sweat, not once.

We all try being busy instead of being alive. Move information instead of simply moving. It's hard I get it. But days spent on the couch should be a welcome anomaly, not a way of life. I figure the type of movement is less important than moving itself. An hour at the gym is just as valuable as a day in the mountains. A victory over life's demands. Every time I slip out when the world is asleep, and run, bike or walk for a while, it's a win. You see someone smarter once figured out, an object in motion tends to stay in motion, an object at rest tends to stay at rest. Me? I'm moving. Fight for movement. Fight for this life. Fight for it right till the moment you come to rest. Life's more fun when you move.

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BACKPACKING NORTH-EAST INDIA

I believe the best way to explore life in a new environment is to live like the people there. The true essence of a city is felt when you eat like them, live under a roof like theirs and most importantly, commute like the majority of the public in the village, town or a city. There's plenty to learn from the socio-economic status that exists. The way people communicate, the way they hustle, the transactions, the mid-journey snacks, the patience, the humility or the hostility, the journey, the roads, the comparative observable progress in the surroundings, the conversations, the weather, the sense of cleanliness, the coarseness of road rage lingo, there's plenty to observe and gain by the ethics of public transport.

We've had a great deal of moving around the past half-month. From cattle-ferries, to sticky share cabs to grinding bus trips. We've done it all. It's spectacular how the character of the place transcends onto the mode of commuting, after all we're nomads aren't we? My last day in Guwahati was the culmination of this enthralling journey. What started off with an overpriced private car on Day 1, ended with an overwhelmingly drastic drop in my expenditure on my travelling. Starting off on a share cab to the kamakhya temple, I re-realised that public transport in India makes you pay in Time if you can't afford a pricier, faster, lonelier alternative. Although that's certainly a negative trait, as an optimistic traveller, it's quite truly a luxury. The time you spend wading through the tissues of the city from the outskirts to the core is when you really observe and absorb. The markets and the streets put up a cacophonous show which is indeed a treat for the voracious and hungry senses of the traveller. Hanging out of a bus humoursly way past its safe and allowable capacity with the breeze hitting your face on one side and the armpit of a co-traveller on the other, isn't an unmissable experience but one you could check off you nope-list. A bucket list of nopes. Getting off the wheels in search of solace for my grumbling tummy, I walked my way towards the edge between the Brahmaputra and the traffic. On foot, the journey slows down tenfold. A slow motion panoramic version of what you could observe sticking your head out of one side of the bus. Walking is really when you breath the city in. Take in all the twisted walk paths that will cramp your muscles later, breathe in a flavourful tea essence from a nearby vendor and then proceed to be attacked by a pungent whisk of paan and an open sewage. Oh what a delight! Hopping onto the 'cruise ship' which could easily have been called a slightly oversized boat, turned out to be a serene blend of the beautifully sunlit landscape which dimmed as the sun sunk into the horizon, and the joyous weekday party crowd on board jiving to a few Hindi classics and subsequently trashy electronic noise after a few sips of some party-liquids. While I spent the whole wonder-hour thinking how perfectly round the golden glow of our star is. No matter which place I've been traveling to in my adult life, Google maps comes second to asking around for directions. A quick inquiry and I was squished up in an evening land ferry again. The conductor constantly yelled out the name of the destination at 5 minute bus stop intervals to attract more cattle into the already overflowing bus. You look around and there's a story in every character you see amongst you. Be it the ghastly wound you can't avoid noticing on a young man's arm, or the swanky white punjabi sporting a freshly inked neck. The poor old lady with a casted arm and solemn expression, or the moderately attractive air hostess you found amongst the tired mass. It's a pot-pouri of stories! I had to switch back to a smaller mode of commute from the last bus stop to get to my bed. I struck a conversation with a co-traveller and this time it was purely actions and laughter and no language as I helped him accommodate a box of mangoes between my legs. Talk about convenience? He later proceeded to sleep peacefully on my arm only to be woken up by the sound of our driver being smacked across the face by the policeman when he broke a law which I couldn't completely comprehend. Humourous as it was, I managed to hold back the giggle. A rather adventurous day in a cityscape which intimidated me at first, but taught me plentiful, all thanks to the pre-pone flight ticket price that demotivated me from skipping this Assamese joy-ride and staying an extra day. To many more unexpected journeys, Cheers!

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MUMBAI PAVILION- ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN SEMESTER 8

In conduction to the ongoing Milan World Expo, the design brief stressed on exploiting the strength of architectural expressions in public spaces. The controlled scale of the project in the iconic location of Marine Drive in Mumbai waived an opportunity to address the lack of congregational spaces in the city, linking a specific architectural idiom to place-making. Mumbai gets its pace with a journey; one with momentum, highs and lows. The reflection of this constant motion through structural expressions of architecture led to an intervention; catering to an experience rendered by utilitarian aspects of public spaces with assembly and symbolism.

The Mumbai Pavilion is but, a platform to appreciate the spectacular Marine drive stretch.

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A MODULAR HOUSING SCHEME FOR PROJECT AFFECTED PERSONNEL- ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN SEMESTER 8

A DIARY OF THE DISINTEGRATION OF THE BODY OF A DECREPIT MAN

MY HEAD: A blank soul looms over my haggard self. Walking in the darkness, thinking to myself, “should I take what I get and give whatever I have, on retrospection, “do I have a choice?”

SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY

MY NECK: Drinking a sip of water, knowing it’s not mine to have, oh what a luxury!

SUSTAINANCE

MY HANDS: Working endlessly with hundred hands, still short of even one to feed.

OVERWORKED

MY TORSO: Yet holding myself, fresh and alive with every dawn, to never see the smile strike off the faces of my loved ones

DRIVING FORCE

MY LEGS: Nimble and weak, step by step, life passes by.

SURVIVAL

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TECHNICAL DRAWINGS- SEMESTER 7 AND 8

Subjects included: Working drawings, services, building constuction

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BANGALORE FIRE INSTITUTE AND FIRE STATION- ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN SEMESTER 6

Program: Fire-station and fire training institution

Location: Bangalore

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Bangalore Fire insti-station process, model-studies and sheets.

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PROJECT CAPITOLIFICATION- ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN SEMESTER 5

Project Capitol: Video site documentation (individual)

I set out with my cycle and a GoPro camera on my head to document the site around the capitol building for the 5th semester Architectural design project.

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5th semester Architectural design project. Project: CAPITOLIFICATION

Site: Capitol building opposite CST railway terminal

Program: Redevelopment of the auditorium plus additional office spaces and a public cafeteria.

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PROJECT ALDERAMIN 2FH

So, we bagged our first project during the summer vacations of 2015. By ‘OUR’ I mean Harsh Shah and Kartik Uchil, the two founding members of 2FH; our practical initiative to get some real work done.

Everything right from designing, sourcing, transportation to execution was handled by the two partners.

Site: 9th floor apartment balcony

Location: Lokhandwala, Andheri west

Budget: ₹10,000 approx.

Materials used: Brick floor cladding, crushed marble, mango crates, synthetic wooden boards, exterior emulsion paint, bamboo, ply, worn out rubber tyres.

PS: Alderamin is a second magnitude star in the constellation of Cepheus near the northern pole. It happens to be the closest star (49 light years), the opening of the balcony is oriented towards. I’ve been a fan of the awe-inspiring nature of the COSMOS, and this is my tribute.

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Alderamin2FH site and process development pictures.

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Day views of Alderamin2FH. PART 1

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Day views of Alderamin2FH. PART 2