Going Green: sustainable architecture

An unedited version of my article published in the February 2016 edition of the in-flight magazine, JetWings.

Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you. ~ Frank Lloyd Wright, American architect

The complex and ambiguous relationship between man and nature is central to Indian architecture. ~ Charles Correa, Indian architect

Architecture is an intrinsic and inescapable part of our lives, and we share a complex relationship with it: we build for shelter, to fulfill our dreams, to make a statement, or for our spiritual needs. However, the same construction industry that produces architectural masterpieces is also one of the biggest contributors of greenhouse gases and a voracious consumer of natural resources. Construction is only slated to boom further, but we run the risk of ruining the very land we build on; clearly, the equation seems wrong.

This dilemma has sparked off debates worldwide, amongst both architects and consumers of architecture, seeking environmentally friendly solutions. There is consensus that architecture must be sustainable and ecologically sensitive.

Sustainable architecture, simply put, is that which creates minimum environmental and ecological impact by being energy efficient, reducing negative consequences and byproducts, and exhibiting climatic and geographic sensitivity.

Sri Lankan architect Geoffrey Bawa championed sustainability through climatic appropriateness, the use of local materials, and repurposing found materials and objects.

Why is sustainable architecture the need of the hour?

In many cities, a misunderstanding or miscalculation of environmental impacts has led to many harmful interventions and developments in areas better suited as green belts. The negative impact of these developments is seen when disaster strikes communities in places that are inappropriate for construction. ~ Chitra Vishwanath, Indian architect

Architecture is a resource-intensive industry, relying on both man-made and natural materials like timber, sand, metals, cement, bricks, stones and glass. Extensive quarrying of natural materials, looting sand from river-beds leading to their altered course and behaviour, indiscriminate felling of hard-wood to fuel the industry, and reclaiming land from water-bodies and forests for construction are direct consequences of the demands of architecture.

Besides altering natural environments, architecture has also become a contributor of environmental waste and excesses. In addition to the energy expended throughout the construction process, buildings also increase electricity and water loads, alter land-use patterns, and sometimes, through inappropriate building materials and design, prevent the effective functioning of natural phenomena like water drainage, sunlight penetration and wind flow.

To reduce architecture’s carbon footprint, allow for the replenishment of renewable resources, and regulate the use of non-renewable resources, sustainable architecture is the need of the hour.

A building in Central Sikkim is raised on stilts, demonstrating an understanding of natural phenomena, as the area is prone to floods and landslides.

Architect Laurie Baker’s buildings showcase his philosophy of local and sustainable architecture by maximising a building’s energy efficiency.

Looking back at architecture

The various styles of architecture are all the result of thousands of years of ordinary people trying to make buildings that keep out the rain and wind and sun by using whatever materials there were, lying around or growing in the place where they live. So I see what principles have developed over centuries from their forefathers' study of local conditions and materials and then apply these principles to what I want to do for my client. Sometimes, the local architecture is so beautiful and so apt that I feel it would be foolish and an affront to try and design in any other way. ~ Laurie Baker, British-born Indian architect

Historically, architecture was always highly localised in terms of design, to suit the specifics of sun, wind, rain and snow. Materiality lent a distinct character to buildings in a given geographic area, through use of local materials which withstood local climatic conditions. Architecture, hence, had always been sustainable by default, creating very minimal impact on the surroundings.

Be it igloos in Arctic regions, cave houses from Turkey, log-huts in Borneo, roof-less houses from Egypt or turf-roofed buildings from Scandinavia, most countries in the world had unique architectural styles to offer.

Closer home, distinctive temple architecture in Kerala, mud and stone homes in Rajasthan’s deserts, buildings on stilts in flood-prone areas, laterite constructions along the western coast, timber and stone construction in the Himalayas, or even monuments using local sandstone or granite ensured that architecture was distinctive, efficient and highly sustainable.

Modernisation and the advent of technology allowed architecture to become image-driven; unfortunately, this is often at the cost of context-driven parameters, sometimes resulting in the use of unsuitable materials or an excessive use of space and resources.

The current scenario of globalisation has led to architectural homogeneity in many countries, in essence losing regional variation and identity. Vernacular architecture acquired a negative connotation, implying a lack of development and contemporariness.

A traditional Nubian home in southern Egypt, with a porous, woven roof for ventilation. Such roofs work here as the region is rain-free. Note the use of local river sand as the flooring material. Vernacular architecture creates uniqueness.

This church in Iceland is a good example of traditional Scandinavian turf-roofed architecture, which uses only locally available materials, providing excellent insulation from the biting cold thanks to the grass roof.

How can the construction industry change architecture’s impact on the environment?

Any construction process impacts and modifies local ecology. For an environmentally sensitive architect, it is crucial to analyse the nature of these impacts to take correct decisions. ~ Chitra Vishwanath, Indian architect

Without discounting the huge advantages the construction industry gained through technological developments, it must be said that it is probably time to look back at the history of architecture, introspect, and re-learn certain aspects from the past.

Maximising a building’s energy efficiency is the key to sustainable architecture. Concepts like using the existing slopes of the land, least dependency on mechanical systems for lighting and ventilation, use of insulating materials, harnessing solar and wind power, rainwater harvesting, water recycling and re-using, and use of appropriate local materials and technologies have the potential to mitigate the damage caused.

Adhering to the standards of green building certifications like LEED and GRIHA is the norm in the industry today, paving the way towards eco-friendliness and sustainability.

Adaptive re-use of existing buildings is an exciting new idea, popular worldwide. With buildings from the last couple of centuries no longer serving the purposes they were built for, they are being retained partially or wholly, while modifying just the interiors to meet contemporary requirements – a great example of environmentally friendly architectural practices.

A home in a village in one of Rajasthan’s deserts is built entirely using local stone and thatched roofs. 

A traditional cave home in Cappadocia, Turkey, has now been converted into a boutique hotel, in an example of adaptive reuse.

How can you, as a consumer of architecture, make small changes to help sustainability?

I have never doubted that in a country like ours any of us has any right to squander or waste, or use unnecessarily money, materials or energy. ~ Laurie Baker, British-born Indian architect

Aware architects as well as clients are increasingly embracing need-based instead of want-based architecture, with each person occupying a smaller footprint on the earth by reducing the size of their offices or homes. Substantiating the smaller footprint is the idea of self-sufficiency for electricity, water, heating and cooling systems, and mindful use of energy. These may seem like minuscule steps, but they definitely bring significant benefits to the clients as well as the environment.

*****

Merely by being sensitive to our location in space, we can hope for a sustainable and thriving architectural industry at minimal environmental costs. Far from being a fad or a buzzword, sustainable architecture needs to once again be the natural course of the industry.

I believe in God. Only, I spell it Nature. ~ Frank Lloyd Wright, American architect

 

Looking Beyond the Taj

An unedited version of my story published in the September 2015 edition of the in-flight magazine, JetWings

Swooshing through the sandstone maze of monuments, the 16^th century slowly crept up on me - I saw first-hand the genius of Akbar’s thought-process, the meticulousness of Shah-Jahan’s embellishment, and the flamboyance of generations of Mughal Emperors. Mughal Architecture has left us with a heritage of buildings which were not only monumental in their appearances, but also poignant in their inspirations; buildings were built as dedications to people, as symbols of love, or as re-creations of a world far away, a world they left behind in Persia. Their architecture, though, was not an imposition on the milieu that existed – the Mughals seamlessly blended and adapted local styles to create architecture that was aesthetically appealing as well as climatically and geographically sensitive.

Akbar, the most prolific architect amongst Mughal emperors, has left behind a treasure trove in Agra – a treasure his successors added to. Agra, to most, is synonymous only with the Taj Mahal. Though not begrudging the Taj its status, I feel for visitors who miss out on what is undoubtedly the largest collection of monumental Mughal Architecture in a region – Agra, Sikandra and Fatehpur Sikri – an Agra beyond the Taj Mahal.

Agra Fort

Early evenings add their own glamour to the red sandstone, setting them aflame. One of the rare forts built on level ground, the Agra Fort looks deceptively easy to breach. Completed in 1573 AD, Akbar and his team designed the semicircular fort over the ruins of an existing fort called ‘Badalgarh’. The Yamuna runs parallel to the chord of the semicircle, and was tapped by Akbar for beautiful river-side panoramas from all the buildings lining that edge.

The non-river-facing side is where visitors enter from, through the Amar Singh (Lahore) Gate. A steep ramp leads from this gate to the inner gate, but the unexpected work-out was made more bearable by my guide peppering the walk with history and anecdotes about the crocodile-infested moats, the Peacock Throne, and the emperors’ opulent lifestyles.

Of the fort’s four gates, the Delhi Gate – the biggest - can only be brought alive through your guide’s stories, as it falls within the inaccessible area of the fort being used by the Indian military. Built by Akbar as his formal entrance, a moat had to be crossed using a drawbridge, to reach the Delhi Gate. From there, the inner gate ‘Hathi Pol’ was reached after a 90 degree turn, so that enemies’ elephants couldn’t run straight through the outer and inner gates to break them down, as was frequently done in battles. Such was the architectural genius employed, which, with other stratagems like a double rampart separated by the 12 m deep moat, 70 feet high walls, forward-sloping lower ramparts to prevent scaling, and massive turrets, made the fort impregnable.

The ramp leading into the fort, from Amar Singh Gate

Written records sing paeans to the 500 buildings built within, by Akbar. However, his progeny Shah Jahan demolished many of them to make way for his marble buildings – a later evolution in Mughal Architecture. Some of what was spared by Shah Jahan was destroyed by the British in the 19^th century, to construct military barracks. Only about 30 of the buildings are said to have survived today.

What sets the architecture of the Agra Fort apart from other forts is the presence of expansive, manicured gardens and lawns. Also, the buildings have an interesting mix of architectural styles – Akbar’s initial designs were heavily inspired by the architecture of Gujarat and Bengal, while Shah Jahan used the Indo-Islamic style. Breaking convention, a lot of the surface decorations are non-Islamic - dragons, elephants, and birds - as opposed to the sanctioned calligraphy.

Jahangiri Mahal, with one of the fort's many lawns in the foreground.

Faint strains of visitors’ chatter and history lessons doled out by copious tour guides followed me through the buildings: Diwan-i-am, Diwan-i-khas, Jahangiri Mahal, Bengali Mahal, Moti Masjid, and Seesh Mahal. At Mussamman Burj, my last stop, a strain of melancholy was added to the air – this octagonal, multi-tiered marble tower was where Shah Jahan was imprisoned by his son Aurangzeb; the tower which probably added to his longing by offering views of the Taj Mahal in the distance; the tower where he breathed his last in 1666 AD. The delicate floral inlay work in the Mussamman Burj almost mocked the harshness of Shah Jahan’s situation.

The Taj Mahal and Yamuna, as seen from Mussamman Burj, where Shah Jahan was imprisoned.

Walking out of the fort on this poignant note, I looked up at the ramparts one last time. Embrasures (slits) and machicolations (openings) lined the wall, for soldiers to shoot from or throw objects on marauding armies without being shot at in return. Below these, my eye caught remnants of intricate blue and white mosaic work. Had I been a soldier in the marauding army, I most certainly would have been killed by hot oil falling from a machicolation, whilst admiring the craftsmanship!

Fatehpur Sikri

In 1569 AD, childless Akbar was blessed with Prince Salim, as prophesised by the Sufi saint Salim Chisti. As a token of his respect, Akbar built the Mughals’ first planned city at Sikri, and decided to make it his capital. Named Fatehabad, the city later came to be known as Fatehpur Sikri. One of the most ephemeral capitals of the Mughal Empire, Fatehpur Sikri was Akbar’s audacious dream – a dream that he lived in for 12 years between 1572 and 1585 AD. Audacious, because, defying conventional wisdom, the city was built on a rocky ridge away from any source of water. Though Akbar did build an artificial lake and devise efficient water supply and drainage systems, Fatehpur Sikri had to be abandoned due to water shortage.

Built entirely using local red sandstone, the architecture of Fatehpur Sikri, as of the Agra Fort, is an assimilation of Persian, Islamic, Hindu and even Jain styles, to create a style that has come to be identified with Akbar. The city was designed to meet all needs – administrative, living, religious, and pleasure – and each of the buildings had unique architectural tweaks. Like how the residences of Akbar’s Hindu and Muslim wives reflect their backgrounds. So does Birbal’s house. Administrative buildings like the Diwan-i-am, Diwan-i-khas, the treasury, and the astrologer’s seat are fairly nondescript, with the exception of my favourite element – the central column in the Diwan-i-khas. Embellished with bands of carvings, it culminates in a head of 36 serpentine brackets supporting a circular platform where Akbar sat, which is connected to the first floor level via stone walkways.

Birbal's house at Fatehpur Sikri, built in a distinctly Hindu style.

The central column and bridges inside the Diwan-i-khas.

Breaking the sedate architecture of the administrative buildings is the informality of the pleasure and entertainment buildings – with ornate carvings of birds, animals and very life-like grapes and pomegranates. It wasn’t too difficult to picture royal ladies giggling from the ornate 5-tiered Panch Mahal, staff moving at Akbar’s command on the Pachisi (ludo) squares inlaid in the courtyard’s floor, or even musicians performing from the floating platform over Anup Talao’s pool – so evocative was the architecture.

Pachisi squares inlaid in the courtyard, which was played using live courtiers.

 

Anup Talao, with its central platform.

My guide had saved another of my favourites for last – the behemoth that is Buland Darwaza. 180 feet high, equivalent to an 18-storeyed building, this victory arch was added in 1576 AD to commemorate Akbar’s successful campaign. I walked up the steep steps leading to the gateway, which magically transitioned to human scale as I entered the Jama Masjid. Salim Chisti’s white marble tomb within the masjid brought me full circle – face to face with the man for whom this entire city was built.

When Jahangir re-inhabited Fatehpur Sikri for a couple of years during his reign, to escape from the plague at Agra, it was the last time the city was ever occupied. Its sparse usage has made it one of the best-preserved collections of Mughal architecture, besides endearing itself to people as the birth-place of the legends of Akbar and his courtiers, the navaratnas.

Akbar’s tomb at Sikandra

The Agra-Mathura highway to Sikandra snaked through some of the most populated belts of Uttar Pradesh; as vehicles belched noxious fumes into the already insufferable heat, I wondered how Akbar rests in peace amidst this cacophony. As if on cue, a massive, red sandstone gateway came into view; with every inch of it covered in colourful geometric and floral inlays and mosaics, topped with white minarets, the gateway held promise. Its architectural elements were precursors to the inlays at Itmad-ud-Daulah and the minarets of the Taj Mahal. The gateway proved to be a portal to another world – leading on to lush gardens which attract antelopes, monkeys, peacocks and other birds. The highway was now a distant memory.

Entrance Gateway to Akbar's tomb, with ornate inlay work.

In accordance with the Tartary custom of building one’s own tomb, Akbar set about its construction in 1600 AD. Unfortunately, he passed away in 1605 AD, after completing his tomb and laying out the gardens in the typical char bagh pattern. His son Jahangir took over until its completion in 1613 AD.

Broad, paved walkways with channels and pools (which once had water) lead from each of the four gates to the stepped, 5-storeyed red sandstone building. The uppermost storey is in white marble – Jahangir’s signature touch to the design. An unusually squat building by Mughal standards, its linearity adds to its distinctive character, which is enhanced by the presence of arcaded verandahs on all storeys, as well as kiosks capped by cupolas (chhatris).

View of Akbar’s tomb with the paved walkway, water pools and water channels.

The interior of the building sends mixed signals – I was greeted by strikingly rich stucco work in blue, red and gold, only to move through a narrow, white-washed passage, to a white-washed room with the false cenotaph. The mystery of the severe interiors was solved by my guide - Jahangir is said to have brought his ostentatious design sensibilities to the tomb’s interior design; unfortunately, only bits of the stucco and none of the precious-stone inlays survived, as the tomb was heavily looted and disfigured during the reign of Aurangzeb, by rebel Jats.

Jaalis (lattices) in sandstone, pre-dating and competing with the finesse of the marble lattices at the Taj Mahal and Itmad-ud-Daulah, lend a delicacy to the architecture, which lingers with you.

One of the surviving examples of the elaborate ornamentation executed by Jahangir within the building.

White-washed interiors of the tomb.

Itmad-ud-Daulah

Driving across the Yamuna is an exercise that demands your patience, but rewards you well. This little-visited area of Agra is home to a landmark building which marked the transition of monumental Mughal Architecture from its first ‘sandstone phase’, to its next, which was marble architecture. Pint-sized Itmad-ud-Daulah packs quite an architectural punch with its design and detailing, envisioned and executed lovingly by Jahangir’s wife, Empress Nur Jahan, for her deceased father Mirza Ghiyas Beg. A Persian Amir in exile, Ghiyas Beg had been a Wazir in Jahangir’s court and was conferred the title of Itmad-ud-Daulah (pillar of the state).

This marble tomb is a predecessor to the Taj Mahal, and is said to be its inspiration too. To reflect her father’s love for Persia, Nur Jahan borrowed heavily from Persian architectural and interior decoration styles, while adding Indian elements like chhatris and kalash-shaped finials. The dome-less building set on a red sandstone plinth within a char bagh garden, has hexagonal towers in each corner. The overall proportions and ornamentation of the mausoleum led to it being nicknamed ‘Jewel Box’ and ‘Baby Taj’.

The building’s white Rajasthani marble surfaces are covered painstakingly with floral arabesques and geometric motifs using inlay and mosaic techniques. One sees the extensive use of the pietra dura technique with semi-precious stones, which was later employed at a much larger scale in the Taj Mahal. Another important architectural milestone is the polychromatic nature of the ornamentation. Jahangir’s influence can be seen in the choice of Iranian motifs like wine goblets, bouquets and cut fruits. Don’t miss the beautifully painted dome when you enter the tomb. It’s worn out, but still displays some of the original colours – brilliant blue, turquoise, red and gold.

Marble jaalis are used strategically to create tailored light and shadows within, presenting a solemn air in contrast to the almost cheery exteriors. Cheer we must, though, for this path-breaking example of the second phase of Mughal Architecture.

***

Architecture is the least esoteric way for people to understand a time-period – it doesn’t require knowledge of exotic languages needed to interpret written text, nor does it need familiarity with technical details of art. Architecture conveys messages across centuries without the need for sharing common ground. Agra offers you tête-a-têtes with Akbar, Jahangir and Shah Jahan; it is up to you to accept the invitation.

Information & Tips:

http://nomadandabag-guides.blogspot.com/2013/01/agra-information-tips.html

Egypt: Pyramids

My article on Egypt’s pyramids has been published in Yahoo Lifestyle’s travel section, on 1st April, 2014. This article is an edited version of my blog post, which can be read here, along with links to more stories and tips from Egypt:

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2012/03/in-search-of-pyramid-of-my-dreams.html

January on Wheels

On my wish-list for a long time now, has been to travel around Karnataka. Another item on this list was to go on a road-trip. Combine the two and what you get is one super-thrilled girl! So began my year, with a bang; back last week after 18 days and 2300 kms in Karnataka and Goa, I am still reeling from the cliched hangover.

This was my first attempt at a road-trip in India, what with me being paranoid about people not sticking to their lanes, suddenly diving from the bushes onto your car’s path, motorists using high-beams and the like. With a firm decision to not drive after dark and to drive no more than 150 kms a day, hubby & I hit the road with our old-faithful car, which was like home for those weeks.

I must say that India makes for fabulous road-trips: interesting happenings at every corner, unexplored nooks & crannies, local festivals, delicious regional food and friendly & hospitable people. Add to it the fun of navigation without a GPS, asking passers-by, only to be told the one thing we heard a million times this trip “Seeeeeedha hogi” or “Straaaight hogi” (“go straight”, with different emphases on the ‘a’ giving us a clue about how straight and how far along).

The beauty and variety Karnataka has to offer has left me drooling for more; here’s to the first of many more road-trips!

700 steps to blessings from Lord Gomateshwara (Bahubali), Sravanabelagola

A priest places flowers at the feet of the monolithic statue, dating back to the 10^th century.

 

Most people leave after a visit to Gomateshwara. If you can bear another climb of 250 steps, stop by at Chandragiri, a hillock opposite the Bahubali. It rewards you with this sublime 14-feet monolith of Parswanath, another Jain tirthankara.

 

Coffee-growing Sakleshpur lulls you to sleep. Paradoxically, it also tempts you with invigorating hikes.

 

Pigeons return to roost on the entrance gopuram of the humongous Chennakesava temple, Belur.

A priest awaits devotees at the ornately-sculpted inner sanctum of Lord Vishnu.

Moodabidri, known as ‘Jain Kashi’, has 18 well-known basadis (Jain temples) as well as lesser known discoveries like this one; cryptically named ‘old tank’ by the Archaeological Survey of India.

Fishermen untangle their nets at the smelly docks at Malpe, Udupi

Geologically significant volcanic basalt formations at St.Mary’s Islands, off the Malpe coast. Shamefully covered with litter and drunk tourists, finding solitude here is akin to looking for a needle in a haystack.

Devotees throng the Krishna temple at Udupi dressed in their finest silks; be it men, women, or children.

Get your adrenalin-rush, as bullocks and their runners run in slush at the Kambala, near Mangalore. As speeds faster than the Olympic records are clocked, you are left short of breath, just watching.

Silent prayers are sent up, at the Rosario cathedral in Mangalore. First built by the Portuguese in the 16^th century, the current cathedral was re-built in the early 1900s. The floor and walls of this cathedral are embedded with poignant epitaphs from the 18^th-20^th centuries.

A visit to Mangalore is incomplete without paying obeisance to the evocatively-named ‘Gadbad’, at Ideal. As you gobble this delish mish-mash of ice-creams, jelly, fruits, dry-fruits and syrups, you only hope it doesn’t churn your stomach, true to its name.

The stars descend to the earth, at Goa.

The architecturally distinct church of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception is an oasis of calm at an otherwise noisy intersection at Panaji, Goa.

Beach-bums walk the rocky promontory from Om beach to Half-moon beach, even as a person meditates under a coconut tree at sunset, Gokarna.

A cow ponders worldly matters at Om beach, Gokarna, un-distracted by revellers. Gokarna means ‘cow’s ear’.

Checking SMSs, with a hot cuppa, at Gokarna; a town that buzzes feverishly from as early as 4 am, well into the night.

Murudeshwara, as commercial and gaudy as in this photo. A gigantic statue of Lord Shiva and an even more gigantic gopuram preside over this one-street town. For me, the saving grace was an interesting museum of Ravana and the diving possibilities that Murudeshwara offered.

Kitted with an oxygen cylinder and diving gear, I’m moments away from being flipped backwards from the boat, into the waters at Netrani, off Murudeshwara. Photo courtesy: Dreamz diving.

A Nandi pierces me with his stony gaze, at Sahasralinga on river Shalmala, Sirsi.

Egrets make a dash for it across the waters of the reservoir at sunset, Bhadra

Visitors add colour to the Hoysala-style architecture of the Hoysaleshwara temple, Halebidu; known by the poetic name of Dwarasamudra in the 12^th century.

If Belur seemed ornate, Halebidu boggles the mind! Seen here is a small example of the exquisite craftsmanship on display; what would I do to travel back in time and meet those who chiseled stone as if it were wood!

For planning your trip, read the trip log here:

http://nomadandabag-guides.blogspot.com/2014/04/karnataka-road-trip-trip-log.html

Read stories from this trip:

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2013/10/bhadra-still-water-still-mind.html

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2014/05/juggling-identities.html

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2014/11/kambala-race-of-titans.html