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This is an archive article published on December 8, 2004

An eye for detail

Under an unusually warm December sun, Somanahalli Mallaiah Krishna runs a finger over the cheap aluminium windows fixed to an elegant coloni...

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Under an unusually warm December sun, Somanahalli Mallaiah Krishna runs a finger over the cheap aluminium windows fixed to an elegant colonial-era wooden balcony and shakes his head.

‘‘This is so …’’

His voice trails off. Tacky? Express offers.

‘‘Well yes, it is.’’

Maharashtra’s new Governor clearly has an eye for detail, something he exhibited in ample measure as he refurbished heritage landmarks during his attempts to transform Bangalore into a Singapore.

So here he is, barely 24 hours after arriving in the city that wants to be a Shanghai, examining the ravages of history and successive public works department on Mumbai’s 119-year-old (though the oldest building is 191 years old) Raj Bhavan.

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‘‘I am really pained to see the condition of this cottage,’’ says Krishna, a lawyer and once Fulbright scholar at George Washington University. ‘‘Do you know this is where Indira Gandhi used to stay? She loved it.’’

This is Cottage 1, at the extreme end of Raj Bhavan, and it’s easy to see why India’s iron lady liked it. Anyone would. It’s in Mumbai, but out here the steaming engine of India’s enterprise simply can’t be heard.

To say the view is stunning would be like saying the Taj Mahal is a tomb.

 
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The cottage perches on a bluff, sunlight flooding the breakfast table surrounded by the wraparound balcony. Across the bay, Nariman point looks unnaturally quiet. Below, a deserted path leads down to rocks lapped by a gentle, mid-morning surf, the only sound you can hear.

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‘‘Mumbai’s Raj Bhavan has a reputation for elegance,’’ muses Krishna, who loves the History Channel. ‘‘I would like to do it, the upkeep.’’

Krishna, an avid tennis player, also wants to ‘‘do up’’ Raj Bhavan’s forlon tennis court, not because — as he hastens to add — he loves the game but because ‘‘dignitaries and heads of state might often like to play (he recalls a time in Bangalore when British PM Tony Blair wanted to play).’’

‘‘I was shocked to see the court,’’ he says. ‘‘It’s concrete, painted green.’’

The sun is warm but it doesn’t bother Krishna, despite his black buttoned down safari suit (he gets them tailored in Santacruz). In Bangalore, he spent years playing tennis at 3 pm with a steady group of partners.

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He will need to find new partners. Industrialist Sajjan Jindal is coming this afternoon to have a go. There are others whom Krishna knows from among Mumbai’s elite. But all the leisure might get to Krishna, plucked out from Bangalore in the middle of a hectic political career.

‘‘For a politician who’s lead a hectic life, this is quite a switchover,’’ he admits. So he will serve Mumbai, biding his time — until the call comes from the High Command.

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