We are sitting inside a mansion that nestles a host of winged creatures. Tiny, brown and slowly vanishing, they have found themselves a safe haven in this home, occupying its spacious verandah where they fly past you with carefree abandon, unruffled by the dangers that await them outside.
Mumbai-based celebrated fashion designer James Ferreira, whose house has become a permanent residence for these birds, speaks about them with a sense of pride. “Have you seen my house sparrows?” he asks. When you express awe, he recounts an incident. A few years ago, these birds suddenly vanished. “It tore my heart,” he says. A mobile tower had been mounted in the vicinity and the sparrows couldn’t take the harmful radiation. “But the tower has gone now, and they are gradually coming back,” he says, relieved.
It’s purely coincidental that Ferreira’s sprawling ancestral home, and many others like his, which belong to a small hamlet in Mumbai’s oldest residential area of Girgaum, suffer the same fate of these sparrows: Dwindling, yet holding up and struggling to breathe.
One of the few surviving gaothans (villages) in space-crunched Mumbai, Khotachiwadi — as it is known — is a souvenir of an era now forgotten and lost to the dreams of rapid, unplanned development.
Enter the village
The village is an anomaly from the bustling streets of Girgaum in South Mumbai. A dust-layered blue signboard directs you to a narrow alley, which opens to a chapel that is embellished with a painting of Mother Mary on the side wall. From here, the road breaks into a series of winding bylanes that house several Portuguese-styled 19th-century bungalows at regular intervals. These houses were originally inhabited by the East Indian Christian community and the Pathare Prabhus (Hindu Brahmins), before the influx of Goans, Marwaris, Gujaratis, Sindhis and of late, even the Chinese.
It’s no surprise why this quaint village has been designated heritage status. Khotachiwadi was founded by a Pathare Prabhu named Khot in 1840, it still preserves the peaceful world of yore. But residents aren’t too certain about its future.
“We used to have 65 bungalows, and now we are down to just 25,” says Ferreira remorsefully. With most families migrating abroad or shifting to the suburbs, this village is witnessing the plight of many green spaces in Mumbai that sink into oblivion after they fall prey to land sharks.
But Ferreira and his neighbours are not willing to give up just yet. For the last 20 years or so, they have been spearheading a relentless campaign to save the heritage site from corrupt money-making builders. “Residents have started becoming more interested after we won a case against the building of an 18-storey highrise in our area. Even though it is an interim judgement, we know there is hope,” says the fashion designer.
Ferreira himself has started opening his tastefully-decorated bungalow to tourists and visitors for a fee — money from which is then put into raising funds for the Khotachiwadi trust.
This ancestral home was once full with his parents, his seven other siblings and aunty. Now, it is just the fashion designer. This is the story of almost, every bungalow here. While the young have moved out, their parents, most of whom are either old or ailing, remain. “We are in a state of jeopardy,” Ferreira admits.
This wasn’t the case 60 to 70 years ago. Khotachiwadi used to be a thriving cultural hub, and was home to a majority of Roman Catholics, making celebrations like Christmas and New Year’s the grandest events in town.
Eighty-seven-year-old Bridget Misquitta, who is one of the oldest living members in the village and was born here, recalls how Christmas used to be a week-long affair in Khotachiwadi. “James’s father would organise several events during this time and it would end with the bonfire on the night of December 31. I remember how once on Christmas day, all the residents went from one home to the other, on a food-tasting spree. Each house had to make one special dish and we all had such a good time. We even used to have music, dance and housie sessions at the club. It still happens, but it’s not the same,” she says.
Then and now
In the olden days, evenings were also fun, with children spilling out onto the lanes to play games, and women gathering at the chapel for the rosary. “Now, the lanes are abandoned. The children are few, and those who live here are occupied with their smartphones. Nobody has time for anyone these days,” she adds.
The popular Malwani eatery Ananth Ashram, which was once a hotbed for celebrities from the Hindi film industry and stayed in business for over 80 years, has also disappeared along with the quiet comforts of village life.
One tradition, however, continues. “And it is all thanks to James,” says Bridget. Several years ago, the fashion designer’s mother had drawn the Catholic women in the area into the habit of reciting the rosary at her home every morning. “We started with 12 women, and we all met daily at her house. She died 2 years ago, but James made it a point to keep up with his mother’s tradition.
We continue saying the rosary at the Ferreira home even today. And though we are just about 6 women alive, we are determined to continue,” she says. The sense of camaraderie and affection between the neighbours at Khotachiwadi is palpable. Ferreira says that everybody here is related to each other in some way or the other. “That makes us one big family.”
At the end of the day, nobody would like to see their family disintegrate or vanish into this urban chaos. “People here have become more house-proud, and are slowly taking the initiative to keep their properties together. Yes, we are like any other village with problem-making villagers who don’t make it very easy for us, but we are trying to stay relevant,” he says.
This explains why the residents at Khotachiwadi never shy away from opening their bungalows to tourists and shutterbugs, wanting to arrest the way of life of this village on their cameras. The place draws over 200 visitors annually and there are plans to open a museum in the near future, to ensure that Khotachiwadi gets its due.
“The neighbourhood is so beautiful,” says Ferreira. “Isn’t it comforting to have a village to escape to from this maddening fast-paced life of the city?” he asks. It’s like coming home. And, don’t we all need a home.