The outer walls of our old house, which provided both safety and protection from the elements, were 1’ 1 ½” thick. With liberal plastering on both sides, the walls became even thicker—truly solid. The inner walls were 9” thick, and with plastering, they felt even stronger. And now? The outer walls of the new house are just 9” thick, with plastering on top. The inner walls are a mere 4 ½”, also with plastering. The outer walls seem like a person who’s lost weight and looks weak, while the inner walls resemble famished souls in desperate need of nourishment.

Back then, nobody was quite sure what foundation was best for clay soil. Our engineer decided on a raft-cum-beam, claiming it was the best option. Even so, the old building sank a bit but remained strong overall. For the new building, they used some fancy name for the foundation—sectional columns tied at various levels. It sounded impressive. They claimed it could withstand earthquakes—up to a certain Richter level, of course.

But the walls inside the new house feel so thin that sometimes I can hardly see them. If you drive a long nail into one, it might pop out the other side! Modern architects and engineers say partition walls are just like screens and don’t support weight. In fact, you don’t even need walls—any lightweight material will do the job.

The problem is, the columns are thicker than the walls. In every room, a column partially juts out. And remember, these columns are made of reinforced concrete. I’ve had many "wars" and "skirmishes" with them, and since they’re stronger than my head, I’m the one who gets hurt. So now, like a cautious bird, I flail my arms around whenever I approach a wall. Worst case, my hands might get hurt, but, as P.G. Wodehouse might say, my brain will remain intact, retaining whatever sense it has left.

In the old house, once inside, it would be cool in the heat and warm if we were lucky enough to get a semblance of winter. Now? The difference in temperature doesn’t seem as noticeable. Upstairs feels almost like an oven.

All the doors in the old house, including the bathroom doors, were solid teak—heavy and sturdy. Now, there’s only one teak door at the main entrance. The rest are made from bonded materials, which I don’t fully trust. I’m not sure if these new doors could withstand even a weak knock from my frail body. An exaggeration, perhaps, but how else can I make my point?

Even the windows, grills, and glass panes seem thinner in the new house.

I’m older and weaker, but the house is new. Shouldn’t it be stronger?

Continued in 175. Gaps In The Horizon - Part 4