The Spaces in Between

How many times have I wandered through the lanes of Panchavati in Nasik? Yet, when I went for a heritage walk after many years, there was this familiarity yet another epiphany of sorts about how architecture assimilates social fabric to create a rich tapestry of human interactions.

 People, dressed for work, hurriedly remove their shoes in the narrow lane before bowing to the deity, framed in the side window. An old lady, sitting on the sunny veranda, watches the world go by, not feeling lonely—just being herself. Children walk in groups, teasing each other, and shouting across the road to call their friends to join them. Vegetable vendors shout above the sounds of the morning, trying to draw customers across the open courtyard. And everywhere, the charm of old wooden doorways and projected balconies adds a timeless quality to the scene.

Photo Courtesy - Amrita @nashikheritagetrails

Each turn of the lane brings in new experiences, new smells, and sounds. Cows mooing, cooking smells wafting across the courtyards, ringing of temple bells, people chanting god’s name and walking towards the temple, women haggling with vegetable vendors, children running with money in their small palms to get chocolate from the small shop. All of these create a variety of interactions at every step.

Photo Courtesy - Amrita @nashikheritagetrails

People carry out their daily routine with an ease that comes with familiarity. No one seems to mind as a cow ambles in front of them, they just touch her and ask for blessings. Small ramps are made to ferry scooters in and out of courtyards. Some people park their cars far away, but it’s ok.

 Why? What makes this unique and desirable? The answer lies in the fact that this is made by people, and it has grown and adapted with generations. It has helped form a community that depends on each other, helps each other, giving solid emotional stability. The boundaries between spaces whether physical or emotional, are blurred. The idea of what is mine and can’t be shared or the concept of a breathing space is loosely defined. Even today, you’ll find women getting together on a hot summer morning, making spices together in the courtyards, or the whole neighborhood coming out to wish a child for an upcoming exam.

 Lanes, courtyards, lane crossings, balconies, and staircases are transitional spaces called liminal spaces that encourage interactions and connections. A 400-year-old banyan tree with a wraparound stone bench becomes a node for people to pause for 10 minutes to catch up with friends. A courtyard threshold becomes a space for a woman to share her emotions with a friend. These pause points are what create the community's well-being.

The spaces have evolved over a century, lending organic growth, with people inhabiting these lanes for generations. Some spaces have been repurposed. A veranda converted into a small soda shop or a printing shop. Someone is selling homemade spices and such in the courtyard. Some courtyards even have a cow or two lazily grazing on fresh grass bought and offered by the devotees.

Human-centric design in architecture is gaining momentum. A design approach that puts the user in the process of design. It looks at what people want, empathises with their needs, aspirations and community values. Apparently, it has huge emotional and physical benefits to the people who use these spaces.

Liminal spaces play a huge role in the human-centric design approach. These inconspicuous spaces foster communication, and connections, vital for emotional well-being.

Next time you come across a space like that, note how it affects your mood. Does it make you feel like lingering around bit longer? Does it make you want to smile and initiate a mundane conversation with a stranger?

Let me know.