I spent 36 years designing homes. Then one house made me rethink everything

As an architect, one is influenced by what one reads, sees and experiences. These influences, in turn, shape one’s approach to life and design. It is a continuous process, and I would like to share a recent experience that brought back some memories and reminded me that, after 36 years of practice, perhaps it is time to correct my course.

I was born and brought up in a home-office built by my lawyer father in the city. He himself hailed from a nearby village and, missing the lush greenery and agricultural practices of his youth, would take us almost every weekend to our family homestead. We would roam the fields and spend time outdoors, while our city home remained a compact, fully built unit on four cents of land.

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Our summer vacations were invariably spent in the great outdoors of the family property. There, one could immediately relate to the rural landscapes so vividly described in the books we were reading at the time, written by Thakazhi, M.T. and S.K. Pottekkatt, among others.

I grew up, studied architecture and started my own practice alongside my father’s office. Later, I built my own home-office in the city on a 10-cent plot. There, I gave priority to creating an open, paved yard to bring in the sky, arranging the rooms around it. It was one of the many small decisions that reflected my architectural journey.

I retained our ancestral lands, home and agricultural practices, which were so dear to my late father. I would dutifully travel back to the village with my family, though over the years the visits reduced to about once a month.

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On quiet mornings, while sipping a cup of coffee on the verandah, I would look out at the lush greenery and find myself wondering why I still led such a compartmentalised life. In the city, I related primarily to the enclosure of the built fabric. Yet, whenever I wanted to relax, I found myself seeking the vast skies and greenery of the village.

At times, I wondered why I had never thought of bringing more greenery into my everyday life.

Last week, I visited ‘Kaadu’, a cleverly designed home built by a young architect, Shaheer, and was transfixed.

On a 3.5-cent plot, he has managed to accommodate separate homes for his family and his in-laws, an Airbnb unit and an entire open ground floor on stilts, using alternative materials. Yet, alongside all this, he has conjured up lush greenery across the interiors, terraces, balconies and roof.

In short, he has brought a large slice of his native rural landscape right into the city, creating a green oasis not just for his family and neighbourhood, but also for the multitudes of birds, bees and insects that pass through it.

There are cob walls, exposed concrete and sliding folding doors that open the interiors into a grand volume. Custom-built furniture and almost playful arrangements of internal staircases add to the character of the spaces. There is a total negation of glazing in the openings, with adjustable wooden shutters preferred instead.

Artefacts collected from his journeys sit alongside a phenomenal amount of flora and fauna.

The making of the house, apart from its structural frame, involved hands-on workshops attended by his friends and students. It is, indeed, a labour of love from a young architect who pursued a singular dream.

And the house seems to transcend the restrictions imposed by its size. More importantly, it stands as a compelling example of how we could design and build homes for our times.

Visiting ‘Kaadu’ made me realise what I had missed doing all these years.

Perhaps nature does not always have to be somewhere we travel to. Perhaps it can be part of the spaces we inhabit every day.

I hope to make amends by bringing more greenery into the everyday lives of my family, my office, my friends and sundry sentient beings, taking a leaf out of Shaheer’s book, as it were.