Another five years passed. Looked to me that Mr Baker had clean forgotten me. My dream house nestled not amidst those coconut palms but in those loosely strung scrap papers. The house became a bone of contention between me and my husband when I had run short of issues to disagree with him on rare Sundays he had foolishly opted to spend at home. It floated nebulously in the realm of dreams...
Then sometime in 1997 on one of those evenings when your dream house is the last topic on your mind, I got a call from Mr Baker. He said he was ready to do my house. MY HOUSE! And could I clarify something? He seemed to be reading from some scribbling -- 'I find psychedelic in my notes, well, what is it?'
Then followed voluminous correspondence. Detailed sketches, all in free hand. Views, reviews, redrawings. Sometimes poems, cartoons. All through, my house was leaving the realm of dreams and taking concrete shape on terra firma.
Wait a minute, did I say concrete? What I meant was brickshape. People say my house is the quintessence of Laurie Baker, a kind of swan song. During summer break, I watched Mr Baker work. I'd wait for his morning visits. His cloth satchel slung over his shoulder, he gave instructions to the workers who all addressed him as Daddy.
Today he was laying the terra cotta tiles on the floor. He squatted on the floor and then spread himself and the tiles weaving a run-on tile pattern linking room to room asking Sajan, the engineer, to complete the design. It was now time to take out the goodies from his magic satchel. Today it was a terra cotta tile with a miniature Ganesa on it and yet another one with a goddess like figurine that he gingerly placed at my eye level in the drawing room.
All my life I have stretched my body to unstretchable limits in houses with kitchens an uncomfortable level for my midget size and stood on tiptoe to see half my face in bath mirrors. In the house that Laurie Baker built, in the areas that I operate, shelves, sinks and looking glasses are at my body and eye level.
Also see: The village where everyone has a television
Advertisement
