The rambling disorder of Colaba’s main streets ends as I veer off into the tree-shadowed Duxbury lane. A mild, though clammy, summer breeze blows in from the sea. Distant voices and birdcall waft down from Sassoon Dock where fishing boats have emptied their morning catch. Two blocks ahead is the Adarsh building, still shrouded in self-doubt.
Beyond a wide wrought iron gate is a neatly laid garden of frangipani, bougainvillea, croton and hibiscus. Peepal trees, with their many parakeet tenants, are everywhere. There is a brooding cypress. And a 168-year-old gnarled banyan.
Its spires soaring above the banyan tree and over much of south Mumbai’s skyscrapers — and about as old as the tree — is the Afghan Church. Few worship here but its architecture and history attract tourists by the droves. Father Christodass, the pastor, tells me he has just eight families in the parish.
I expect an element of liturgical quietude as I set out to meet the pastor at the church, but the nave is full of activity. Some serious renovation is in progress: there is a cloud of cement and lime dust, a relentless drone of drills. There are masons, carpenters and welders at work as a rather vocal supervisor oversees plaster removal.
Adding to the biblical chaos is a film crew setting up equipment for an ad shoot. There are cameras, light reflectors, generators, and a knot of cables. Some actors are expected later in the day. Father Christodass is a petite man who speaks in an earnest, measured manner. He is from Coimbatore, and has been with the bishopric of Mumbai for almost 30 years, serving in different churches in the city. Barely audible above the din, the pastor tells me that the Gothic ambience of the church is particularly popular with ad filmmakers.
160-year-old building
Several popular Hindi films have also been shot here — Black , Brothers, OK Jaanu, Force 2 and the recent 102 Not Out. “We don’t allow scenes that don’t befit a church,” the pastor clarifies. The shoots, however, do bring in some funds for the upkeep of the place — but it’s not nearly enough to restore the over 160-year-old building. The roof needs fixing and retiling; the internal woodwork needs repair as does the external stonework; and there are 64 stained glass panels awaiting restoration.
A group of tourists from England is sitting in the pews, carefully taking notes. On the walls are the names of British soldiers who died in the First Afghan War (1839-42), to commemorate whom the church was built. There are many names. Captain G.M. Cruickshank, Lt. T.R. Henn, both of Royal Engineers; Major T.R. Billamore, Captain A.C. Heightington, C.B. Raitt (rank not known) from the Royal Artillery; Ensign E.N. Salisbury, Captain I. Noodburn,W. Broad Foot (rank not known). The list goes on — 4,500 British officers and soldiers died in the first of three Afghan wars. Britain’s Grand Army of the Indus retreated from Kabul in 1842 in tatters, the troops virtually annihilated. There would be two more wars, in 1878-80 and 1919. The pastor says many visitors come looking for names of their ancestors. But there are no names of the Indian sepoys who died in the battles, or of the 13,000 Indian camp followers.
The church’s interior has the starkness of a war memorial. Glass panels gently mute the tropical light. The rosewood pews have holders in the backrests where soldiers could rest their rifles when they attended service. But the dramatic Victorian arches of the doorway and the slender spire saluting the sky are celebratory.
The church was built in the 1840s and 50s with locally available buff-coloured basalt and limestone. Gothic revival architect William Butterfield’s tiles were used for the floor to create geometric patterns. Eight large bells in the belfry were later added.
The church doorway
The first set
Through a haze of masonry dust I can see shafts of refracted light coming through an ethereally beautiful stained glass window. This is the Anderson Memorial Window, named after the church’s first pastor Philip Anderson. He died at sea after his ship sunk en route to India from England where he had picked up the first set of stained glass panels. The image quality and craftsmanship of the stained glass in this small church is at par with those in the greatest cathedrals. The Great West Window panel above the altar is one of the finest works by the English master William Wailes.
Elegantly designed
Unlike Mumbai’s other Gothic buildings, the Afghan church is compact in conception, its appeal lies in its proportions and elegant design.
But the church, listed as a Grade I heritage monument, is in a sorry state of neglect without resources for renovation and upkeep. The ongoing restoration project, funded from money collected by the church — ₹30 lakh — can just about cover repairs to the inner walls and plastering.
But approximately ₹10 crore is needed for full restoration, that could take over four years, according to the pastorate committee. In 2013 when the Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall attended a remembrance service here, the place was cosmetically spruced up but it needs much more.
Father Christodass, however, is optimistic. There is a plan afoot, he says, for a rededication ceremony in July. On that occasion, he plans an interaction with Mumbai’s residents to tell them about the restoration required. He is certain Mumbaikars will come forward again to protect their heritage.
The writer spends time pretending to read and write. His other interests are photography and Western classical music.
