Better Than New

was where the bhadralok built their bungalows in the mid-20th century. And now, more than half a century later, these gently decaying residential localities—not quite decrepit, not quite heritage—are coveted once again as the site of upmarket restaurants, lifestyle stores and garment boutiques and even automobile showrooms.

‘‘The locale was perfect for our image as a shop with a difference,’’ says Pallabi Basu, manager of the Kolkata branch of Fab India. The store is located on Hindustan Park, a quiet street adjacent to the bustling shopping arcade of Gariahat; the two-storeyed, 75-year-old house it occupies was once home to Bengali linguist-litterateur Suniti Kumar Chattopadhyay.

‘‘We tried to respect the building’s history,’’ says architect Ravi Kaimal, responsible for the look of Fab India stores countrywide. ‘‘Chattopadhyay reportedly knew 50 languages. Embedded in the walls of the house are plaques in Greek, Cyrillic and other scripts. We not only preserved them, we highlighted them while redoing the house.’’

To that end, Kaimal’s team opened doors and windows to maximise the line of sight—the area that catches the customer’s eye—and removed the arbitrary miscellanea added to the house over the years, including coloured glass and plywood partitions and security grills. ‘‘Some minor repairs were necessary to the exteriors, but given structural integrity, remodelling the interiors of old houses works fine aesthetically and culturally and saves time and money,’’ says Kaimal.

PRESIDENCY PHENOMENON

Don’t grudge Kolkata its only recent claim to trend-setting. But Mumbai, not surprisingly, discovered the potential of old houses long ago. • Bungalow 127 at Kemps Corner A sprawling 18th century bungalow with a pebbled driveway, winding stone staircase, open terrace and spacious rooms, it was perfect for the antique furniture store Ameera and Sunil Shah wanted to set up. They bought it from a Parsi family eight years ago; this April, it was renovated and reopened as a gallery-cum-furniture store. ‘‘We retained the old, charming atmosphere of the bungalow, together with the high ceilings, old windows and doors,’’ says Shah. ‘‘The wall space and lighting just lent itself to an art gallery, so we changed the electrical fittings, the lighting and the walls.’’ With its walled-in courtyard and large parking lot, it’s a world away from the busy Om Chambers next door. • Caliente at Khatau Road, Colaba What used to be a drab MTNL office is now a fine dining Spanish restaurant run by Romil Ratra and Vikram Munshi. ‘‘The place had been shut up for two years, and MTNL rented it briefly before we had the place renovated,’’ says Ratra. They retained the original structure, ceiling, doors and three rooms, and added a loo, pantry and kitchen in the passageway. The partners solemnly promised the residents of the heritage building that life as they know it wouldn’t be upset. In fact, the Parsi family which lives upstairs nips down occasionally for a bite. Georgina L Maddox Story continues below this ad

Instead of being inhibited by the spaces of the typical Bengali house—no hallways or niches, simply mid-sized rooms leading into each other—Fab India Kolkata has its windows hung with their checkered drapery, the beds covered with their appliqued bedspreads, the shelves stacked high with bath towels. Home? Or store? From the facade, it’s hard to tell the difference.

The home factor is something the men behind the restaurants, too, exploit to woo their predominantly middle-aged clientele. In a notoriously stodgy city, where eating out is yet to whip up the passion or expertise it involves in Delhi and Mumbai, the familiar locales, and almost-familiar interiors have gone a long way in comfort-levelling diners. What else would explain the spurt of restaurants like Tangerine, Porto Rio, Marco Polo or Southern Aminia, all in spruced up homesteads?

‘‘I haven’t really thought of it that way,’’ admits Arup Mukherjee, owner of the fine dining restaurant Marco Polo. Yet, when the time came to take a decision about the sprawling 6,000 sq ft house built by his grandfather on Sarat Bose Road in 1938, Mukherjee couldn’t bear the thought of pulling down the structure. ‘‘We insisted that the architects preserve the exterior and remodel the inside,’’ he says.

It was a tough call for interior designer Soumitra Majumdar, who executed the project. ‘‘The building had to be vertically divided into two, a second staircase put in, load-bearing walls removed and replaced and the entire restaurant area modelled on modern lines,’’ says the designer. The result is a contemporary space with the accent on gleaming woodwork and quiet lighting.

‘‘There is a trend towards preservation,’’ acknowledges architect Vivek Rathore of Gujarat Ambuja, one of the prime movers behind the restoration of the colonial Town Hall. A combination of factors explains why. Dwindling family fortunes and family sizes have made houses too big for their occupants. ‘‘Householders realise that selling the property would rob them of their last capital. That is why they hand it over to promoters on the sentimental condition that the exterior remains intact,’’ says Pratip Dutta, whose family has extensive land holdings in the city.

That often works out to the entrepreneurs’ benefit. At Outram Street, four friends—including local boy made good actor Sharad Kapoor—got together to convert a 1,500 sq ft first floor apartment in a 100-year-old building into Tangerine, a restaurant that takes its old-meets-new theme to the menu. The staircase is original Burma teak, but the interiors are a meld of rustic-Scandinavian. ‘‘The restaurant is all about value addition,’’ says Sujit Sinha, one of the partners. ‘‘It sends out a message that traditional buildings can be put to modern use,’’ adds Gautam Kapoor, who oversaw the interior redesigning.

Sometimes, the usage can be quite unexpected. Interior designer Apurba Chakraborty of Studio WB recalls a 100-year-old residential building on Southern Avenue which he recast as an imposing showroom for an upscale auto dealer. Could there be a better metaphor for a 310-year-old city desperate for a new beginning?

(With inputs from Santanu Banerjee)