In Pursuit of Architecture and more: The Intimacy of Vernacular Architecture

Most of my childhood vacations were spent in my mother’s hometown at Nashik, India. Our ancestral house is located in the heart of the religious district called Panchavati. This is the busiest part of the town, buzzing with pilgrims, shops and vendors of all kinds. My earliest memories are of walking through a maze of lanes, running errands with older cousins.

View from the River

My love for vernacular architecture grew here. Memories of playing hide-and-seek in the arched colonnades of the temple, standing in the balcony to watch processions on the streets or people bathing in the built-in pools of the river Godavari have left a deep impact on my mind. Architecture of this place is interactive. It is completely people-centric and practical. It is not awe-inspiring, not meant to be, and one feels at home here. That’s why the scale is very intimate. Anyone can relate to it.

Nashik is a significantly holy place in India with references going back to mythology. Steeped in spirituality, this place has a temple in every nook and corner. No wonder it is also called the ‘Temple town’, every activity here revolves around the temples and rituals. The Godavari river is an integral part of life in this city.

I remember going to the river to swim and play. An entire stretch of the river was designed to facilitate easy access to water. An interesting configuration of steps was used to allow for private rituals as well as congregation of large crowds for festivals. Long, wide steps with low risers were very comfortable even for elderly to reach the holy river. We’d race down to the river where, built-in pools made of dressed black stones awaited us. The water in these pools flowed gently and the depth was just about 3/4 ft at the center which made it safe for us to frolic around while parents performed rituals. When it got too hot to swim we would play in the cool, arched colonnade constructed beside pools, often used for changing clothes.

Steps on the River

A walk back to the house was full of interesting things happening on the streets. If we went past colourful shops and sugarcane juice vendors without giving in to temptation, we’d head straight into a sweetmeat shop. You see, these shops were strategically located to bring in more customers.

Sometimes our march would be halted by a marriage procession on its way to the temple. They would pause at the clear openings in the street to show off their pomp and splendour. People would peep out from the lovely wooden balconies and bless the newly- married couple. Children would stand in verandahs and dance to popular music played by the wedding band. It was so interactive as the lanes were narrow, the balconies low and the houses packed together. It gave the street homogenous look, but, privacy was strictly maintained. Residential units had minimum opening on to the main street.

View of a Street to the Temple

Most buildings had small entrances that led into a huge courtyard. Inside, women and children could work and play safely without prying eyes of the visitors. Most of these buildings were about 100 years old, built in stone, wood and bricks, that had lasted through the century. These courtyard houses had a tranquil feel about them. Inside the courtyards, light had a subdued quality and it was always cool. One could access all the rooms through courtyard, so it became like the ‘vital space’ of the house [1]. Interesting to note that some houses extended from the street to the river at the back. These privileged people had their own pools attached to their houses.

Plan not to scale. Representational purposes only.
'Kund' is the stepped, built-in pool and the steps leading to the river are called 'Ghats'

Typical Balcony of a residence
Photo Courtesy Anand Katgaonkar

Here, architecture developed as an expression of way of life. It is simple, homogenous yet unique without being flashy. Same materials, same heights, similar planning yet they don’t have the ‘stamp effect’ of modern city dwellings.

But now, Nashik has become crowded. It has outgrown its capacity. Intricately carved stone temples and colonnades are painted bright to attract tourists and a century old beautiful residences are being replaced by hideous looking modern structures. Increased population has demanded more Floor Space Index (FSI), leading to construction of massive buildings overpowering old ones.

I miss the 'human' scale of the vernacular architecture. The coolness of the courtyards and the interactivity it offered.

I remember people would just stop on the road in front of the temple and bow to the deity across the courtyard. Even the Gods maintained the connection.

Here’s a vintage photograph of the Ghats at Nashik by Martin Hurlimann, clicked in 1928. Check out the skyline. Look how serene it looks.