Outside Patna, a massive bridge across the Ganga, raised on endlessly repeating piles, is a two dimensional plane of concrete that connects two sides of the river. No attempt was ever made to distinguish the bridge portions that occur on land from those on water.

No variations in material, structure or altitude was worked into the scheme to suggest that a river crossing was being made. Nor any design concessions to the flat plains landscape made. A single workable design was available, and so, was mindlessly repeated across the wide arc of the river; just as it is across every culvert, ravine and river bed throughout India, a blueprint pulled out of a used bridges drawer.

When i saw it some years ago, it was hard not to be appalled by the scale of the desecration. A once beautiful countryside, its open agrarian fields and wide waterway had been condemned by a man-made instrument so banal, it could be considered nothing else. And it was tantamount to putting solar panels atop the dome of the Taj Mahal.

Yet, on the bridge, I was the sole exception. For most Patna residents - strolling about the bridge sidewalks in the summer evening, ice-cream in hand - the bridge was a source of infinite pride. People made special trips to show off the structure to visitors. An engineering marvel to rival any.