Sporting shared looks and lineage, twinned buildings across town tell engaging tales
Katie Engineer and Pervez Mistry outside Moonlight and Sunshine, built by their grandfather at Churchgate
The more you stare, the less you see at times. But rest the gaze closer on certain buildings and a veritable storm of stories flies into your face. Bombay is strewn with “sister structures”, either simply resembling or outright reflecting each other.
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To begin with, two evocatively christened buildings at the Churchgate corner where Madam Cama Road meets Maharshi Karve Road, opposite the Oval Maidan. Theatre actor Farid Currim’s family has lived in Moonlight ever since GB Mhatre designed this Deco jewel in 1938, having already completed Sunshine next door. They were commissioned by Phirozshaw Mistry, whose granddaughter, Katie Engineer, offers Currim and me coffee in her flat.
Forced by the family’s flagging fortunes to leave school, Mistry studied by streetlight. That sight much moved textile tycoon Morarji Gokuldas. “Apprenticing with Morarji, Phirozshaw ended up partnering his own brother-in-law, Nanabhoy Motabhoy,” Katie explains. “Their company, Phiroz N Motabhoy, manufactured Sun and Moon brand machine bobbins with Japanese technology. Deciding his buildings would be Moonlight and Sunshine, he indulgently laid them with fine Italian marble.”
Twin blocks of the PM Kaka Buildings on Firdausi Road, Dadar Parsi Colony
We are joined by Engineer’s cousin. A privilege indeed to encounter the country’s pioneer karate exponent, Sensei Pervez Mistry. Qualifying in Kyoto, from where he returned in 1969 as India’s first Black Belt instructor, he taught and graded Karate-do under the auspices of the Seibukan Academy of Japan. Like all the best teachers, he fondly remembers an early pupil after 50 years—my brother who hopped aboard buses and trains from Bandra to follow his guru with keen regularity.
Coincidentally, a little girl cousin of the Currims, who spent her first eight years in Moonlight, shifted to another one of two rather intriguing buildings on Gamadia Road, near Haji Ali. Silver Foil and Gold Cornet rose as the absolute joy of her grandfather Vali Mohammad Sonavala and his brother Ghulam Hussein Sonavala.
Silver Foil’s projecting balconies and continuous chhajjas exemplify the appeal of reinforced concrete, a rampantly explored material in the 1930s. “My grandfather was the President of the Gold Association. He had an office in Zaveri Bazar where deals were struck in silver and gold. Hence, the name must have come to his mind—Silver Foil or varak, silver leaf,” says education consultant Mariam Shaikh from Dubai. “Silver Foil has Burma teak columns and very unusual tiling, which we’ve maintained for almost a hundred years. The buildings were constructed with immense love and dedication for the Sonavala families to traditionally stay there. Gold Cornet could also relate to the gold trade.”
Juvekar House at Chembur. Courtesy/Art Deco Mumbai
Shaikh’s guess about Silver Foil’s soul structure, 1935-dated Gold Cornet—cemented with striking “eyebrows”, lightning-bolt ziggurats and horizontal bands—is validated by Ghulam Hussein’s granddaughter. Prithy Gandevia from Singapore writes, “Being in the gold refining business for the Government of India, my great-grandfather Haji Alarakhia and grandfather wanted one of the buildings to be Gold Cornet. This was a cottage converted into a double-storey by my father Mohammed Ali, who finally made it four-storeyed. Haji Alarakhia is believed to have introduced platinum in India. A local lagdi coin, used to buy gold, had his name imprinted on it.”
It is hardly just Deco deserving a second dekko. On the shaded lanes off Colaba Causeway, architecture infuses enough French elements to transport tourists to a sense of New Orleans. The 1902-constructed Sargent House on Allana Road reflects Jenkins House on parallel Henry Road. They touch back-to-back, trimmed by a thinning lace of copper pod, gulmohar, sitafal and badam trees, together forming an impressively scenic section of their respective streetscapes. Sturdy red brick walls are adorned with architrave bands, floor-level cornice bands and features like friezes, projecting verandahs supported on decorative wooden brackets, elegant railings and balusters.
Sargent House acknowledges a municipal councillor by that name. Jenkins House exudes a permanent poise, lofty arches lauding the luminary it honours—most likely Sir Lawrence Hugh Jenkins, Chief Justice of the Bombay High Court, if not Port Trust engineer Jenkins. They are among six properties in the vicinity acquired by the Indian Institute of Science. Jamsetji Tata intended that the rent they fetched contributed to the institute’s development. The Tata group founder strategically marketed these properties to prominent colonials.
Ronald Jeffreis outside Sunkist cottage in Santa Cruz. File pic
To quote RM Lala in For the Love of India: The Life and Times of Jamsetji Tata, “Jamsetji was to fight some battles with the British. On an individual level he remained a warm friend to scores of Englishmen, including several judges of the city High Court. It is not accidental that the buildings he had built behind the Taj—before the hotel came up—were named after Englishmen: Reay House, Roosevelt House, Sargent House, Sandhurst House, Jenkins House and Candy House. It is significant too that it was Justice Candy of the Bombay High Court and not Jamsetji that led the delegation to Lord Curzon, Viceroy of India, on Jamsetji’s scheme to establish a research university.”
Incidentally, from Jamsetji’s half a dozen investments in the area, Reay House and Sandhurst House sport handsome resemblances, though perhaps not as obviously as Sargent House and Jenkins House do.
Other apartments stand in conjunction without always appearing so, for varied reasons. Nudging the Apollo Bunder promenade, the facades of Ionic and Corinthian, erected by Vazifdar Builders in the mid-1950s, essentially wear similar elements, except for being hung with differently shaped balconies.
The classic quartet girdling Dadar East’s former tram terminal at Khodadad Circle—clockwise as Tilak Bridge ends, Empress Mahal, Empire Mahal, Imperial Mahal and Harganga Mahal—are fronted by humongous, unchecked shop signage. This, tragically, all but wipes out their striking Indo-Saracenic chajjas and jaali windows.
As the leafy open enclave of Parsi Colony starts, on Ashoka tree-lined Jame Jamshed Road the twin roofs of Family House teamed organically from the 1920s. Till the second plot succumbed to redesign in recent decades. Why mention buildings that aren’t a set anymore? Because of an emotional tug. Family House is my family house—home to three generations of Dasturs. My father’s childhood turf where I continue visiting aunts and cousins. This is Family House denoted No. 793. Bang beside it, No. 794 sports the changed avatar.
Further in, the identical Swiss cottage-contours of PM Kaka Charity Fund Buildings on Firdausi Road, are brushed by mahogany boughs. Both structure and verdure boast almost a century’s vintage. The pair is refreshingly well maintained, a matter of evident pride for their oldest residents like 78-year-old Noshir Anklesaria. Within, flights of beautiful wooden stairs connect floors, the longer stretching over 13 steps and the shorter nine, with a separating platform. Rushing to school or for fun alone, young Anklesaria would take a single flying leap from top to bottom of the nine steps.
From literal leaps to the figurative… Allowing myself a broadish bit of writer’s licence, I confess to find fleeting resonances between Juvekar House at Chembur and quite distant Sunkist bungalow in Santa Cruz. The latter, belonging to the Jeffries, has witnessed an episode of uncommon gallantry.
Ahead of assigning homes evocative names, of course, came the task of locating them wisely. Ronald Jeffries’ West Indian grandfather Frank Thomas came from Ratlam, silver-medalled for his distinguished services to the BB&CI (Bombay, Baroda & Central India) Railway, at King George VI’s proclamation. He constructed Sunkist in 1939, opposite the Willingdon Catholic Gymkhana, when this club was a mere asbestos-roofed shed. Frank Thomas’ sons—Ronald’s father and uncles—steered prestigious inaugural runs of the Frontier Mail, Flying Rani and Rajdhani Express. “A confirmed Railways man, my grandfather chose this spot to be able to see Khar Station on one side, Santa Cruz Station on the other.”
The grills through which Frank Thomas gazed on his beloved engines are interesting. The Art Deco design weaves the initials “ftj” from within and “jef”, for “Jeffries”, from out. “Dad and his brothers would sit for meals on this eight-seater dining table,” says Ronald. “Knowing exactly which train passed when, they jumped up with torches, signalling the trains to slow and throw them mango baskets from Balsar.”
Courtesy and civility not yet extinct, Frank Thomas heeded a request from the lady living across, in Kenville. Could the gentleman possibly please position the porch of his dream home to not obstruct her view of the gymkhana?
The main door of Sunkist does lie fairly recessed from the road. “There was such great understanding then,” Ronald sighs. “We’re the original settlers here. It hurts that people brashly muscling into the neighbourhood regard us as strangers instead today.”
Author-publisher Meher Marfatia writes fortnightly on everything that makes her love Mumbai and adore Bombay. You can reach her at meher.marfatia@mid-day.com/www.meher marfatia.com
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