THE HOME AND THE MAN
One of Harvard’s most visible power couples, the Bhabhas live in a quaint, unmarked cottage near the Radcliffe Quad. Their quiet street sits a few blocks away from a string of neighborhood businesses on Concord Avenue. Days usually start early in the morning for Homi K. Bhabha, at around 5:30 or 6 a.m. He writes his lectures and works until 7 a.m. or so, when he’ll take Django, his Welsh Springer Spaniel, for a walk around the neighborhood. Around 8 a.m., he shares a light breakfast of Darjeeling tea and fresh fruit with his wife. He speaks with his assistant around 9 a.m. to discuss his schedule for the day, then drives to school, although he admits he should walk. The evening is usually dedicated to a Humanities Center event, where Bhabha participates as a moderator or speaker. Most days end with a dinner with friends or colleagues.
Professor Bhabha and Django greeted us at the door, the morning after he returned from his trip to Germany as a keynote speaker for the Ministry of Education. Showing no signs of jetlag, Bhabha was without his signature glasses in a crisp outfit of jeans, shirt, and a sweater that, only upon a second look, revealed a mix of textures and details.
THE LIVING ROOM
As we entered the living room, Bhabha’s sense of personal style became truly evident. A modern, poppy red couch with a curved back; 19th-century Chinese embroideries and Turkish prayer rugs; a portrait of his grandfather in a mirroredArt Deco frame; a self-portrait made by his son—there isn’t a single time period or style that dominates the living room. Instead, the ambience is personal and authentic. When asked about his influences and inspiration, Bhabha describes the importance of his childhood in India.
“People from all over the world lived in Bombay, which was originally a Portuguese colony before the British took it over, so I grew up in a culture that was very mixed. It was mixed at the upper, wealthier level, but Bombay is also a city where people come to make their fortune from all over India, so less fortunate people, from the South, North and West of India, also gathered,” he says. “When I say my style is eclectic, it’s fusion. It’s pulling together different things from very different traditions and cultures and putting them together, reassembling them. I’m interested in assemblage, putting things together, and giving each element that you take from a different culture a new meaning as you put it in a new context.”
This theme is most apparent in two of Bhabha’s favorite items. In a corner between two panel windows is a print by French artist Leger depicting a woman with her hand over her head, and right underneath is a piece of an Indian sculpture of a woman also with her hand over her head. Although both items are of completely different time periods, cultures, and media, they echo each other for a distinct effect.
THE DINING ROOM
Outside of work, Bhabha likes to spend his time entertaining friends and family in his dining room. which has light green walls that open onto a wooden porch lined with electric lamps.
“For myself, I’ll make a sandwich and read a book, but for family and friends, it’s a great privilege to cook for them and have them sit around a table,” he says. “In fact, my happiest moments have been a good mixture of family and friends enjoying food and drink together, because that atmosphere has a way of really sparking wonderful conversations that bring great warmth, and I think great warmth and intelligence illuminate a life.”
His specialty is a Parsee dish of lamb or chicken slow-cooked with spiced lentils and vegetables. He became animated as he expressed the importance of bones when cooking meat. “Americans think that no food has bones in it, but it’s the bones that make the dish. I always use the bone, never without.”
Bhabha, who would be entertaining a guest that evening, mused about what he would cook for dinner, then decided on a mushroom soup with Madeira wine and vegetables and a grilled whole fish stuffed with herbs or a seafood risotto. It seems that most evenings the Bhabha home is a place of communion. In fact, the previous night, sculptor Anish Kapoor flew in with Bhabha from London and had spent the night at his home.
But in the end, our visit was about more than artifacts and food. Time itself seemed slower, almost languid, at the Bhabha residence—the dog never barked, but slowly wagged its tail; even the telephone ring was soft and muffled, and quintessential Harvard items such as Blackberrys and laptops seemed worlds away.
