13taken for a ride

8/2/2019 13Taken for a Ride

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Ahsan Manjil Taken for a Ride

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I had left Dhaka in 1969 and visited it only a few times since. It was fullten years before I visited Dhaka and then another 5 years had passed for a return

visit. I came few more times recently and this year my wife wants me to visit

Dhaka again to see her father. He is not doing well and may not live long. I plan

the trip to take advantage of stop-over in Singapore and Tokyo to see some

architectural landmarks. While I am busy compiling a list of buildings to see in

Tokyo, a retired professor arrives to give me something to take for his relatives in

Dhaka. He had planned all along to see all the continents after he retires and is

now on his last continent. He is always curious about travel and wants to know if

there are buildings in Dhaka I may be planning to see.I really have no such plan or knowledge of how to go about seeing

buildings in Dhaka. Each time I have been there, it has become progressively

difficult to see anything or visit anyone. Traffic jams, pollution and lack of public

transportation make it almost impossible to get anything done. I had seen a book

on architecture in Bangladesh that showcased many of the buildings that were

erected during the late 80s. What struck me was the bad quality of the pictures

accompanying the texts. The writer was more interested in showing the size of the

building than the quality of architecture. Another surprising aspect was the

attribution of most of the buildings to one individual who was the head of the

Public Works Department. The usual procedure would have to acknowledge all

the key individuals who contributed their time and talent on the project. The

pictures would have been better taken in dawn or twilight time to draw attention

to the structure and not the surrounding chaos and pollution. The professor insists

on getting help from an architect he knows in Dhaka who may be able to show me

some worthwhile buildings. He would call this architect and have him contact mein Dhaka to show me around. I am happy about the offer and thank him for his

help. This may be my only chance to visit and photograph some of these

buildings.

By next week I am in Dhaka after a short stay in Singapore. The local

architect calls and is willing to come over and escort me to some building sites. I

ask him to come any day before around 6am when the sunlight is perfect for

photography and the pollution is low. He agrees and promises to come by

someday this week after a crisis in his office has been settled. While I am busy

struggling with water-shortage, power shortage and extreme heat and humidity,


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there is no sign of him. I start to realize the futility of hoping for someone to wake

up at dawn and come over before noon. Life is much slower and I need to expect

less. My wife had a much more realistic expectation of getting some outfitstailored for her using cheap and abundant labor. She has a tailor in mind on Road

No. 5.

We are out of the house the next morning to buy some fabric and find the

tailor-shop. I remember my class-friend from college and architecture school, Ali

Imam used to live on Road No. 5 too. Maybe I can find his house and ask him to

show me around some worthwhile buildings in Dhaka. He was an extremely

talented designer and worked at the Public Works Department all his life. He was

one of a handful of friends at my wedding and he would remember my wife.

After we find the shop and leave a heave of fabric to tailor, I look for Ali

Imams house and find the house. It is easy to find because of its unique

architectural features. It has Ali Imam written all over it. Ali Imam is happy to see

us and even at 10 am, it is too early for him to expect visitors. He is retired now

and is fond of sleeping late and waking up late. He used to exercise body-build

and remind us the virtues of early to bed and early to rise habit. He has taken it

easy now and set up a studio on the top floor to do paintings.I ask his help in seeing some architectural projects in Dhaka. He knows

most of the worthwhile buildings in Dhaka and offers to take us for a drive. He

gets dressed and drives around Dhanmondi to show us some new buildings of

architectural importance. While he is driving, he offers commentary on each

passing building. He takes us to the national Parliament for photo opportunity. My

wife and I had spent our honeymoon here in 1980 before the parliament was

completed. It is nice to see the complex again. Ali Imam wants to take us to see

the Vashani Novo Theater next. He spent a good part of life working on that

project.

When we get there, we realize it was the only day of the week it is closed.

Ali Imam knows the director and the other people in charge of the facilities and

arranges a tour of the facilities. It turns out to be better for us to arrive on a day

when it is not open to public. We have access to all the parts of the building. Ali

Imam explains the trials and tabulations of designing such a complex building on

a prime location next to the parliament complex. He was fortunate enough tohave a technical program that gave him a free hand in shaping the building around


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the functions inside. He was able to design it in expressive modern vocabulary

without having to succumb to regional or local overtones.

The plaza outside has a grand fountain but the equipment is being

repaired. There is a grand parking structure underground but it is damp and

smelly. The lobby is massive with multi-story volumes. There is water

penetration thru the walls at various locations. Ali Imam explains how the offer

from Russia to display a space module in the lobby was never followed thru. The

lobby functions as a place to hold science fairs and exhibitions. It is popular with

aspiring science students. The crown jewel of the complex is the planetariumitself. Strict guidelines for layout of the space, slope of the floor and perfect

spherical ceiling had to be followed. He had considered cast-in place concrete for

the roof but opted instead for a more flexible modular space frame system. The

projectors were imported from Japan and it is still being managed by the supplier

to ensure proper operation. Ali Imam assured us that it functions great and we

should come by to tomorrow to enjoy a show. He gets us the directors phone

numbers to call to assure tickets.

On the way home, Ali Imam laments at the heartbreaking bouts of budget

cuts, government and internal office politics during the long and tedious years on

this project. He was proud of his other project, the renovation of Ahsan Manzil on

which he spent the other half his career. I had seen him working on that project in

mid-80 when I visited him at PWD. I saw him making a scale drawing of the

main entrance door to that building. Ali Imam explains the hardship of that job

over a decade. On his first visit to the site, the squatters in the building had told

him to not dare come back if he wanted to live. They threatened to bomb him ifthey found him again on the site. Aided by police escort and army sweep to clear


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out the squatters, he had to spend the next 10 years recreating lost details and

putting back pieces of a puzzle with care and resolve. It was labor of love for him

and he offered to take us there for a tour but he was not sure if could drive thru thenarrow alleyways. He might have driver available and if that happens, he would

call and let us know when we are going.

I have a tourist book with me and it lists the Ahsan Manzil as one of the

most important buildings to visit. It is listed as a museum but does not say which

days it is open. I ask my brother-in-law to call someone and find out if it is open

tomorrow. He does not know who to call or where to get this vital information. If

I could go with Ali Imam, he might be able to arrange a visit of the premises even

if the museum is closed. I call Ali Imam and even he does not know the days and

times the museum is open. He tells me to wait till tomorrow morning and see if he

can arrange for a driver to take us there. I am inclined to take a chance on visiting

the museum rather than staying in the humid, hot and power disrupted house.

I am up at 7am the next morning and walk to the neighborhood grocery

store to get bread, butter and jelly for breakfast. We had made arrangements with

the security guard living under the stairs to fetch breakfast items but he in never

up this early. He is getting paid for around the clock watch but is not around whenI need him most. After making and eating breakfast, I call Ali Imam at 8am to see

if he is coming. He sounds annoyed at being woken up so early and tells me that

the driver is not available today. He is not willing to risk driving his car into the

narrow alleys of old town. I ask my brother-in-law to send the security guard to

fetch a car, baby-taxi or rickshaw before it becomes rush hour. After about half an

hour they are not able to find anyone willing to go there at any cost. I am all

dressed up and got my thousand dollar Nikon camera with auto-zoom lens ready.

Seeing my dilemma, my brother-in-law calls his nephew who works nearby to see

if his car is available to take me to Ahsan Manzil.

I am in luck. He has already arrived at the office and agrees to let his

driver pick me up at the house and be at my disposal all day. He warns me that

the car may need CNG refilling before the day is over and I could let the driver

purchase CNG while I am visiting the museum. The driver arrives at half past

nine and I urge the driver to head towards the old town before rush hour. The

driver has a vague idea of where the museum is and I show him the map in mybook so that he can figure out the best route to take. Before I know it, he manages


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to hit each and every traffic jam along the way. He has moved only 3miles in one

hour. By half past ten, we are in front of Gulistan Cinema entering the old town.

According the map, the North-South road would have taken us directly to the riverbanks near the museum. I used to walk from Gulistan to Shadarghat during my

childhood long before the North-South road existed. It used to be a nice walk thru

the narrow streets. Now the road has been widened and more traffic, more

businesses have sprung up along the way. Ideally, it would make a lot more sense

to turn these into one-way streets but with buses, trucks, carts, rickshaws, horse-

drawn wagons, pedestrians going in every which direction, the end result is delay.

By the time the car makes it to Bahadur Shah Park, the driver has to get directions

from the traffic police. The sight of Star Theater and Jagannath College along the

way brings lots of fond memories of childhood visits. Things are much more

crowded and lot more confusing. There are no visual clues or landmarks to guide

us. Most buildings are mid-rise with signs, placards, shops, and restaurants an

amalgamation of sameness.

Fighting the onslaught of traffic, we finally turn right towards the

museum, according to my map, it should be just around the corner but it is not

until we are right in front of it that I get a glimpse of the pink building betweenthe frames of the two towering structures. On the right is multi-story shopping

complex still under construction. On the left is another commercial structure of

hideous proportions. There is no plaza or view corridor preserved in front of the

museum to afford an inviting view of the building. There are power-poles at

various heights and angles blocking the view. There are few parking spaces but

most are occupied by street vendors. The driver manages to dislodge one of the

vendors and park the car. I head for the ticket vending booth to find much to my

relief that the museum is open today. The entry fee is a token amount. The ticket

vendor tells me to heed the guidelines printed on the back of the ticket while

visiting the premises.

Even at token 2 Taka fee, hardly 10 people are there


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The distinct pink outline of the building beyond the narrow alley.

History is preserved but hardly any visitors come to enjoy the labor of love.

I was not ready many of the restrictions printed on the back of

the ticket. Congregating, eating, drinking, spitting and taking pictures are not

allowed in the museum. I really do not want to leave the camera in the car but I

do not have a choice now. I ask the driver to go and get the car fuelled up while I

visit the museum. The driver tells me that he may have wait in line for hours toget CNG. He suggests I should pay for petroleum instead. It is many times more

expensive to get petroleum but I do not want to get stuck here and get caught in

traffic jam on the way home. I give him a thousand taka to get ten liters of

petroleum and his lunch and ask him to be back by 2pm at the parking lot.

The entry garden leading to the building is laid out in formal Mughol

style flower garden setting. The path leading to the building shifts its orientation

as it passes in front of the building. There is grand staircase leading people to themain hall under the dome. The entrance to the exhibits starts at the lower level


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beyond the stairs. The building is truly grand and the restoration is immaculate.

Each and every detail has been carefully thought out and executed. Steel beams

have been used to support the floors, balconies and stairs. I am looking for themain entrance door that I had seen Ali Imam draw 20 years ago but it is not

anywhere. The security guard leads me to the exhibition halls arranged in the rows

and rows of interconnected rooms.

The exhibits consist of pictures, objects, light fixtures and other industrial

objects dating back to the last century. Many of these were studied during the

renovation. The rooms on the upper floor are larger and more airy. The lighting

used in the display does not do justice to the artifacts. The lounges on the other

hand do not need supplemental lighting to evoke the grandness of the building in

its glory days. It takes me more than an hour to see the inside of the building. The

exterior of the building and the garden require more attention,. The view from the

top of the stairs overlooking the river is spectacular. Even with all the clutter and

junk along the riverbanks, one can see the reason for the orientation and situationof the building mass facing the river.

Arrival court


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It is tragic to see the failing of this superhuman effort of architecturalpreservation get bogged down by the clumsiness of the surroundings. It could

have benefited a great deal from careful planning of the developments

surrounding the museum. A grand plaza in front of the entry gate could aid in

imparting a good first impression of arrival. The axis along the building could

have been straightened to go all the way to the intersection near Bahadur Shah

Park. It would have involved control of building development and even

demolition of some structures along the way but the visitor would have been

afforded a constantly magnifying panorama of the building along the approach

drive. The other possibility and a simpler way to arrive at the building might have

been by boats along the river. Visitors could have been provided with access point

to embark boats from various points along the banks and let out at the plaza in

front of the stairs. The plaza is underutilized now and signs at the base of the trees

prohibiting tree climbing attest to lack of useful things to do in the plaza. In cities

like Paris, Venice and Copenhagen which sit on waters edges, boat access to

important buildings have been successfully used. Dhaka sits on the river and byproviding a river access, travel time could be minimized and sense of arrival

enhanced

Unutilized river link


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River view of Ahsan Manzil

Ministry building in Paris with boat access, Black Diamond with boat access, Venice landmarks

with boat access from canal

The plaza is a welcome relief public space in the congested old city.

People could have been allowed to make use of it for recreation or strolling

purpose but with so few visitors, it does not seem utilized at all. The great expense

and effort at this renovation has aided in preserving the history. Without the

ability of public to visit the building in great numbers, it is just an exercise in

preservation. There has been writing of papers by individuals keen on receiving


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praise and honors at the end of the project. Even at nominal entry fee there are

only 10 or so visitors during the three hours I have been here. Obviously, the cost

of renovation is not going to be recouped unless massive amounts of folks comeon a regular basis. With the access to the building practically sealed off, I feel like

the peoples funds have been used but access denied- in short, the public has been

taken for a ride.

While I am enjoying my leisurely stroll in the plaza, I see the driver

walking around with my expensive camera on his shoulder. He is back from

buying petroleum and has bought a ticket to get inside the gate. He did not feel

secured sitting in the car with my camera. I am glad to see him and get my camera

back. I take some pictures of the building. I want to get back before rush hour. My

niece had called the driver to tell him to take me to his house in Mohammadpur.

He wants me to have lunch there around 3pm. The drive back is now more

unbearable in the heat and humidity of mid-day. It is the same congested street

except now the traffic is mostly moving in one direction. That adds more time to

our getting out of the old town. I am grateful to have this driver to bring me here

and getting me back in one piece. I just wish this driver would have figured out

the streets by maps rather than intuition.

Traffic nightmare: carts, rickshaws and people


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The driver wants to know if he should pull up the windows and turn the

A/C on. He is still running on CNG and running the A/C would rob the engine ofpower. As unpleasant as the heat is, I want to get the experience of old town. The

driver tells me that the red-light is flickering indicating the CNG tank is running

low. He thinks he will make it to Mohammadpur on CNG and does not want to

waste expensive petroleum if he absolutely can avoid it. I am relieved to know

there is enough fuel to make it home for lunch. If we had to stop for CNG fuel on

the way home, we might not make it there before dinner time.

We arrive at my nieces house around 3 and I take the flight of stairs to

the 4th floor to wash up and eat lunch. My nephew has also arrived and is taking a

shower before he joins me for lunch. When he comes to the table, I thank him for

letting me use his car see such a magnificent building. I would not have been able

to find it without his help. This whole trip has been worthwhile due to my visit to

Ahsan Manzil. I also tell him that I have paid for ten liters of petroleum. I hope it

would make up for the use of his car. He sounded baffled as to why the driver

would let me pay for expensive petroleum when the car had been retrofitted to

disconnect the supply line to engine from the tank. With the price of CNG at a

fraction of the cost, there is no reason to keep the supply line to the petroleumtank.

As we are eating, my niece opens some jars of home-made olive, mango

and jujube pickles. These had been sitting on the shelf for special occasions and

my visit is a special occasion. It is a treat for me- I do not have a chance to taste

such delicacies. The pickles bring lots of fond memories of my childhood. While I

am enjoying my lunch, he calls for the servant to take some food the driver. The

servant comes up the flights of stairs and tells us that the driver had taken the car

and gone after dropping me off. He also took a hose from the garage before heleft. My niece adds two plus two. The driver has taken advantage of my

unfamiliarity local system. The petroleum that I paid for went to the disconnected

tank and he is going to sell it to a taxi driver. He has now gone to the market to

siphon off the 10 liters of petrol for some quick cash. He can make more than his

weekly salary by selling the petroleum. He is laughing all the way to the market

and I am looking like a fool. I have been taken for a ride.


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Ahsan Manzil as it sits now with constricted access from street and commercial boat landing in

the riverbank

Access could have been controlled along colonnaded route that orient and open up vista

corridor. The river bank could accommodate landing of boats and cruise vessels bringingvisitors from various points along the river.

13taken for a ride

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