No face to show

With the shocking transformation of some pediments and fau00c3u00a7ades of Victoria Terminus, our sutradhaars ask a few probing questions about restoring heritage and accountability when things go horribly wrong

"Gargoyle, is that you…?" Sir PM's face turned a whiter shade of pale as he approached his old friend on a moonlit night. He had decided to check out the reason for all the noise emanating from inside Victoria Terminus. It had been disturbing his shuteye for a while now. But, for the life of him, he couldn't figure what had changed since their last chat, barely a week ago.

"It's me only, Sir PM. It was an overnight transformation. One day I was fine, and by the next morning before I knew it, I had my nose chiselled into something that you'd see on the face of a platypus. Yes, there were cracks around my spine and jaw line but I didn't ask for this. See, I knew something wasn't right for some time. There were these men who had taken over the building; they had climbed up the scaffolding as part of some 'mega project'. As I went under the knife, I noticed that a few others around me were also undergoing similar procedures," he stuttered, struggling to speak at this usual pace. 'Poor Gargoyle. He must be in post-operative shock,' Sir PM thought to himself.

By now, Ms Investigator aka Lady Flora had arrived on the scene. How could she be too far, right? Earlier that day, she had accosted Dr Viegas on his way to Sunday service at St Thomas Cathedral, for an immediate update. Sir PM was always slower off the block, she felt. "So, this is how they are 'restoring' the grand old terminus. My art class work from kindergarten looked better than this," she said as she inspected the damage on Gargoyle's features. It was a sorry mess.

"Did you see those horrific transformations of the Roman figurines along the façade of the building? Some look like poorly sketched doll-faces. I fail to understand if this is ignorance or lack of sensitivity on the part of the railway gods. If I recall clearly, Frederick [FW Stevens] was a master illustrator and had sketched accurate drawings of every corner and contour of his beloved creation. So, how was this allowed to happen despite fine references?" thundered Sir PM, stepping into his lawyer avatar.

By now Gargoyle was beginning to get a splitting migraine after his procedure, and requested to be excused from this session to get some rest. Sir PM and Lady Flora used the opportunity to head out on a quick trail. Slowly, they began to unearth further disaster in the wings of the railway terminus. Weirdly proportioned faces on pediments stared back at them; some of the detailing on the capitals was in poor taste and the material used appeared to be of suspect quality. Lady Flora felt her stomach churn and Sir PM was sure he'd get an acidity attack if they continued their midnight tour inside the Gothic marvel.

They stood there in silence for a few moments. "Let's hope someone out here realises that tampering with the original masterpiece is a bad idea. It's for life, and we clearly haven't learnt from other mistakes in the past," bemoaned Sir PM, as he battled a mini panic wave, wondering if he and his ilk across the road were next on the radar. Lady Flora, who had just been resuscitated to her original, beautiful self, thanks to a systematic, sensitive restoration, heaved a sigh of relief. She had seen it all, and hoped that the grand old terminus would be spared of further disrespect. Surely, the second most photographed structure in India deserved better.

mid-day's Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city's sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com

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