Castle of Joy

When I was twelve years old, my father accepted a job transfer to a big city in India (Bombay) from a small town three hours away. My father and I came to the city, a month before we actually moved, to decide upon our future residence. We had to choose between an apartment in a colony close to my father's place of work and one in a building located in the center of the city. As we traveled from the railway station to the city’s center, observing the number of multistoried building-clusters along the way and the lack of space in general made me feel quite claustrophobic. Yet Bombay seemed more exciting than the town we were leaving behind!

The building we went to see used to be the summer palace of a king. The palatial structure, the turrets on its roof, the expanse of the front arch, the enormous oval lush green lawn (bordered with rose bushes) which spread across the entire length of the palace and the giant almond and fig trees at opposite ends of the entrance gate, were the sights that greeted me when I first visited 'Anand Bhavan' (which translated from Hindi means “Castle of Joy!.”)

I gaped at the large building and its huge garden, amazed at the existence of such a place in a city that boasted a population of 12.5 million people, with a population density of 603 per/hectare. In contrast to the constricted quality of the rest of the city’s dwellings, I was standing in front of a building that seemed not to care about the world outside. It was a world unto itself. It was inviting and open and almost seemed to say, " Welcome home! Here, you won't complain about being hemmed in! Here, you can be anything you want to be and do anything you want to."

This building was located in an elite district, with the rich and the famous among our neighbors. The location was also in close proximity to my school (later college) and to all the shops, restaurants and ice-cream parlors for the rest of the family to ogle over. Of course, at that time, none of this registered. The only thing I could see in front of me was paradise. A sense of calm fell over me while I stood there at the gates, as though an unspoken choice had already been made which was in perfect harmony with my desires. I was not wrong, because my father in that instant confirmed that this was going to be our home from now on.

We were yet to see the rest of the building premises. I still had to be awed by a sight I will never forget. We walked down the road towards the rear of the building. I could hear a rush of wind and water and then it subsided. This rhythm of sound continued. I was wondering at its source when we turned the corner of the building and stopped in our tracks. We were staring at a wide blue sky and the Arabian Sea meeting at the horizon. My heart skipped a beat as I wrenched my hand from my father's clasp and ran towards the water. It was the most wonderful moment of my life watching the waves lash against the huge wall that protected the building from the force of the sea. I was thrilled beyond words, not only at what I was seeing just then, but knowing that I would see it everyday for the rest of my life.

Anand Bhavan had been converted from a king's palace to living quarters for government officers. Walls had been erected between large palace rooms to create apartments. Our apartment was half (lengthwise) the king's court hall and two adjacent rooms. Even the doors were ornate and carved. We were told they had not been changed since the king's time. A huge pillar, which we presumed, was one of the two in the king's court, stood in the center of the long hall. It divided the space for us until we added a wooden partition and some curtains. My bedroom window opened to the sea.

The sound of the waves crashing against the wall, the fresh sea breeze and the smell of the sea became an unconscious part of my life for many years after that. Wild geese flying across the setting sun or the rising moons were images I had read of, but never before experienced.

We even had a tennis court behind the building. Sometimes the sound of a tennis ball being lobbed back and forth in the middle of the night would wake me up in a shiver of excitement. From the first day we moved into the palace we heard stories of ghosts in the building. We were told of the wandering soul of a king who could not bring himself to leave behind his 'Castle of Joy' and of his lover who met him in secret. It was exciting, scary and perfectly in concert with the images that staying in an old palace would bring to mind. There were a number of hidden tunnels and pathways that had been sealed off inside the building, doors the apartment managers would not let us open, which some said led directly to the sea. Some thought that the king used these tunnels to escape an attack or for one of his trysts.

Between the sea and my bedroom window was the tennis court and beyond that was a 'sea bench' where my friends and I would sit for hours gazing across at the sea. The expanse of the sea matched the expanse of our dreams in things we would do 'one day' and the places we would visit, sailing across this sea. (A study of geography would have helped in modifying that list of places we would visit!) On the seabed, visible during low tide, sat a giant rock that we dubbed the ‘turtle rock’ because it was shaped as such. Turtle Rock became my friend and confidant whenever I was alone. I would cry to him and laugh with him. He shared my most intimate secrets, patiently heard out my inventory of likes and dislikes and seemed to be rooting for my hopes and dreams.

On Sunday mornings most of the parents in the building would play tennis while their children waited impatiently for them to give way to budding tennis champions. We would have volleyball matches in a court created on the right side of the tennis court where there was more open space. The swing set and the slide, to the left of the tennis court, were all time favorites, often sending children home with scraped knees crying for a Band-Aid, only to hurry back, hating to miss even a single moment of fun. Hide and seek games were never easy to win because there were so many places to hide. We had to in fact limit the area that we were going to play within, to keep it fair for the seeker.

Then there was our favorite tormentor, the building gardener, who would never cease to mutter expletives (under his breath when parents were around and aloud when we kids were by ourselves) because we might have shown the temerity to walk across his garden. On one occasion he even locked most of the kids in a tool shed for making bicycle tracks across his beloved lawn. There was also the building watchman who was the true source of all those ghost stories. He claimed he was a watchman from the king’s time. He did appear ancient to us at that time. He was also our dear friend.

Some of the other features of the building complex were a medical center, servants’ quarters and maintenance department. We had all our needs covered in and around this building.Anand Bhavan was the envy of friends and relatives who were as surprised as I had been to find so much land devoted to such a small group of people. To those who lived there it became matter of fact to have the conveniences and joys of the space and the location. In fact, I came to love the city for many reasons and that definitely included my residence. Many years later, when I moved to another city and lived in more compact surroundings I realized how lucky I had been. Without exaggeration, I can say that the happiest moments of my life were when I lived in Anand Bhavan!