Meet me under the bridge
Walking across a few well-trod bridges where architecture meets metaphor
It’s the Sunday after Diwali—a day to make grand plans to return to work, exercise, diet regimens and all forms of guilty piety in an effort to confront the most trying Monday of all. But I’m not quite ready to give up the seasonal fun; I need a bridge to connect me straight to year-end excesses without having to go through the prosaic weeks in between. Anything to avoid the monotony of tackling long-pending tasks stored in the pandemic’s closet of shame.
Suspension (bridge) of disbelief
THE GLORIOUS LIVING ROOT BRIDGES IN THE NORTHEAST ARE MY IDEA OF ARCHITECTURAL PERFECTION
The Diwali legend rests on the bridge built by Hanuman and his simian army, offering the hero Rama a passage into Lanka where he will establish the victory of good over evil. In a world where distances are scarily growing, the need for bridges, both real and metaphorical, is immense. On a recent visit to Chaanfi near Nainital, I was struck by how evocative a simple suspension bridge can be. Built in 1910, the jhoola pul is one of those charming architectural remnants of the Raj. It straddles the Kalsa river, in spate at the time of my visit, soon after unprecedented and calamitous rains in the Kumaon region. A bridge over troubled water indeed.
The pretty bridge, with its green ropes and railings, and stone structures on either end, is a joy to cross. Gushing river below. Blue skies above. Forests all around. If humans really resolved to, it would still all be okay, I thought to myself, a little lightheaded. I also confess to being flooded by all kinds of Bollywood memories while suspended on the bridge, not least a soft-focus SRK beckoning to me with eternally open arms.
Scenic link
The Howrah Bridge, poised majestically on the Hooghly in cantilevered splendour, is one of those Kolkata clichés that never loses its emotional resonance. Back in Mumbai, the Bandra-Worli Sea Link bridges the distance between “town” and the suburbs while bearing the additional burden of symbolising a shining new India. Before it appeared, driving to south Mumbai involved a pilgrimage through Mahim Causeway, where St Michael’s Church regaled you with its wisdom (“Fed up of the heat? Chill out with Jesus inside.”); beyond Shivaji Park, playground of the cricketing gods; past Prabhadevi of Siddhivinayak Temple fame; and finally into Worli, protected by Haji Ali, the marble monument two centuries older than the Taj Mahal. The Sea Link, meanwhile, is defined by its magnificent steel cables, strings of a giant harp that play an upbeat, futuristic tune.
You get a beautiful view of the bridge from Bandra Fort, completed by the Portuguese in 1640; it moved through Maratha and British hands before finally settling into its modern role of walkers’ and lovers’ paradise. But its position as photography location outshines any of its other avatars.
Walk into the scenic fort any morning and you’ll find women in elaborate gowns and men in matching shirts awkwardly posing for pre-wedding and -baby albums. Wave-lapped rocks. Sea Link background. The excitement of new beginnings for the couple. The seriousness of the shooting crew. A guaranteed mood lifter for both romantic and cynical spectators.
Rerouting roots
Standing below the famed Bridge of Sighs in Oxford, a skyway that connects two buildings of Hertford College, was one of those moments that made me ironically beam. Named after its Renaissance era namesake in Venice, it was built in 1914, the year of the Great War. On days when sighs are in endless supply, it’s instantly uplifting to watch a charity video put together by an all-boy band of Oxford students a hundred years later. Their a cappella mash-up of Shakira hits on campus is a riot; the Bridge of Sighs makes an appearance at the 1:15 mark. In case anyone needs a pick-meup and can’t make it for the Bandra Fort morning shoots, these blithe and nimble young scholars in suits are absurdly and subversively good.
It’s been a long-time wish of mine to walk across one of the glorious living root bridges in the northeast. These simple suspension bridges, many of which are to be found in Meghalaya, are my idea of architectural perfection. Humans rerouting aerial roots in order to form organic bridges. So much more powerful than any metaphor.