In lieu of India Design ID coming to Mumbai this September, we chat with Mustansir Dalvi about what he defines as the city’s 19th & 20th-century “domestic vernacular” architectural style. Mustansir Dalvi was the longest-serving professor of architecture at the University of Mumbai. He is an author, editor, and urban commentator. He contributes columns regularly to the National Herald, the Hindu, scroll.in, and The Wire, where he examines the many futures of Mumbai as a post-planning city. In this exclusive interview, he shares his insights on what made the domestic vernacular unique, inclusive, innovative, and a trope from which modern architecture can learn greatly.
Here are some snippets from our interview:
India Design ID: What do you think defines Mumbai’s architectural landscape?
Mustansir Dalvi: It has changed over the past few years, and the one significant definition of the city’s landscape isn’t architecture but the shape of the city itself. The physical shape of the city has undergone several changes since, say, the time of the Seven Islands. To a large extent, South Bombay has been shaped by reclamation.
ID: About the seven islands, has water defined how we live here and how the city has been built?
MD: My reading is that you are right; in its original form, water has been important. But it seems that as progressive waves of reclamation started, our touch with the water edge has become less and less.
ID: What is the domestic vernacular?
MD: So, as Mumbai grew from the fort and beyond, people within the fort were largely of the British and East India Company. They were slowly increasing their political hold over the larger region. In the case of Mumbai, many native populations from Gujarat and Maharashtra (as we know them today) came to the city to make lives for themselves. These populations created their buildings and architecture, and by doing so, they brought the traditions they originally had with them to the city. And only modified them for a denser footprint, a high-rising landscape. So the domestic vernacular is a homegrown way of building. Primarily used in a timber frame with masonry infilling, with a lot of detailing carved into the former.
ID: You wrote in Scroll that this architectural language looks away from the colonial gaze. Do you think it’s possible to do so? Can we look away from the “post-colony” identity?
MD: The proof of this statement lies in the fact that when we look at colonial architecture in [what was called] Bombay, it follows a series of very clear trajectories. You first have Neo-Classical, then Neo-Gothic, the Indo-Saracenic–and then the Neo-Classical which made a return. So as far as the British were concerned, their agenda was clear on their architectural style. What I’m calling domestic vernacular doesn’t follow any of that. It also doesn’t follow them based on materials. To a large extent, colonial buildings are very solid masonries, whereas the domestic vernacular uses a lot of timber. This is a validation for that argument. It’s also correct to assume that the British built enclaves within the fort walls and to the extreme south of the peninsula. Beyond that–Crawford and northward–was the native town. The native town was left to its own devices until, say, the 1890s when you had the plague, and then it was interfered with once again. However, within the fort, there were some native enclaves as well, such as Borah Bazaar.
ID: As you said, the domestic vernacular resulted from migrating communities. Was this reflected in residential or more industrial spaces?
MD: They would be mainly in residential and sacred spaces–mosques, temples, agiyaaris, synagogues. Industrial spaces were built with modern materials like wrought iron, cast iron, and eventually steel. Of course, by the turn of the 20th century, you had a lot of concrete coming in, and then RCC took over the language of architecture. Even around the textile mills, housing–which was mostly chawls–did have instances of domestic vernacular. However, later, chawls were also built in concrete. But the earlier 19th-century ones were those we are talking about. The areas of Kalbadevi, Bhuleshwar, Bohra Bazar, and Dongri… these places had the domestic vernacular.
ID: Do you see a continuation of the domestic vernacular in 2024?
MD: No, that’s long gone. What we see now are the remnants of it that are still with us. [These structures] could well be preserved; Mumbai has some of the best conservation architects in the country. But those buildings are going, and nobody is building new ones like them—those which could be adaptively reused. In fact, entire neighbourhoods could be preserved like that, but they’re on the way out. Look at what’s happening in Bhendi Bazar.
ID: So then, what would define the current architectural language?
MD: It’s very organised, no doubt. But it doesn’t seem to serve its users. The current architecture is the physical manifestation of the building bylaws; all the buildings you see around you just fulfil those bylaws. In doing so, they generate real estate. So today, the buildings are not so much architecture; they’re just tools for generating real estate.
ID: Can you tell me more about the materials used in the domestic vernacular?
MD: One of the things I can define the architecture of the domestic vernacular by–which I’d like to broadly call Konkani Architecture–is the trope of huge roofs. These roofs would be massive, very deep, and came down beyond the walls to protect them from the rain and sun. That was the standard. To make roofs like this, you need timber and a whole wooden framework, over which you would sometimes have tiles, shingles, or even straw. So, timber formed the basic framework of those building constructions. You could even create your walls in brick and stone after that. So, these materials were necessary for the domestic vernacular buildings. Another important reason for timber is that you can carve it. When you want to use it on the outside as an ornamental piece, which we see as balconies, timber is a lovely carving material. Craftspeople can express themselves with it; it’s very versatile. You will see that most of the domestic vernacular is four floors. Above that, you have sloping roofs. By the time they became flat roofs, the material changed to concrete. From the ’30s onwards, buildings had flat roofs, which was a defining feature of Art Deco.
ID: How do we reconcile all this loss of older architecture and older buildings?
MD: You have to put it differently. It’s not about the buildings, it’s about the neighbourhood. It’s about the collection of buildings with which we’re undergoing this crisis. Because newer laws allow you to break several buildings to make one. Because of that, the entire neighbourhood’s character changes. Now, you even have cluster developments–which are to happen in Bhendi Bazar–where you can take 200 buildings and make 20 out of them. Now, imagine what that does to a neighbourhood, or parts that make you nostalgic about what the city used to be.
ID: So, would you say that Mumbai’s future landscape is more singular and less community-driven?
MD: Yes, of course. The way things are going, the future will be largely gated communities. This means Mumbai’s connection with the sea will increasingly be lost. When that is lost, the sense of community, cosmopolitanism, and equity will also be lost. Because people will only look at themselves as parts of enclaves. Those areas that are not enclaves will inevitably be dominated by vehicles. Public spaces will hardly be public in that sense. They will be “no man’s lands”. If you live in an enclave, you will never need to leave it because everything will be there. And if you go out, it will be in vehicles, completely isolated from the outside. It will be the people who are not as lucky as you who will have to occupy the space outside your car. Those are the people who have no stake in anything. So, imagine how social structure can crumble with these enclaves when the privileged are isolated, and the underprivileged have to fend for themselves.
ID: Where do you see Mumbai’s architecture headed towards in the future?
MD: We have to frame an argument. Let’s frame the argument of housing. Why do you see so much construction happening today? Does that actually tell us that people need housing? I would say that there is no connection. I don’t think we’ve had a proper survey on Mumbai housing needs. But we keep building with the hope that they will get sold at these high prices. It is a fact that in Mumbai, even today, you have around 2-3 lakhs of unsold flats. We’re probably building far more stock than what we actually need to house people. We don’t seem to have the proper facts and figures. In the 1940s, an order was given that all buildings could be raised by one floor, and that took care of housing. Suppose we could raise two floors today – that could solve housing. These are arguments we have not articulated very well.
ID: In your opinion, what could we learn from the domestic vernacular?
MD: Scale. That is the most important thing we can learn. We can learn how a domestic vernacular building was directly connected to the street outside it. From the fourth floor, you could shout at somebody on the road and communicate easily with one other. Now, the newer buildings have four floors of just parking. Back then, you were always connected; there was a sense of community and scale, and there was, most importantly, light coming into your houses. Which is now increasingly difficult as the taller the buildings become. It is also a hygiene problem when light doesn’t come in. I can give you a list of what we could learn, but these are the most important points. These domestic vernacular buildings would be directly on the street! You came out of your building, and you’d be on the road. Now, with the newer buildings, you step out, and you’re still inside the enclave, and what separates you from the rest of the city are exceedingly tall walls. So, when you’re on the outer part of the wall, you have no sense of scale or location. Also, don’t forget that most of the domestic vernacular buildings had shops on the ground floor. That whole dukaan-makaan thing is such a wonderful trope to integrate the ideas of domesticity, mercantilism, economy, and business–all together. That level of scale is unparalleled today.
Speaking with Mustansir Dalvi was an eye-opening experience, in which we got to learn about a much-less talked about architectural style found in Mumbai: the domestic vernacular. Free from colonial designs and Victorian aesthetics, the domestic vernacular buildings influenced what became 19th and 20th century Mumbai’s “native town”. Driven by a sense of community, work culture, and strong tradition, these structures brought vernacular forms from Gujarat and Maharashtra to the cosmopolitan, international island city. And this is what defines Mumbai: an urban cosmopolis that is equal parts global and local.
Paying tribute to Mumbai’s design & architecture
This September, we pay homage to the design & architecture in Mumbai: the city of dreams, the city that never sleeps, India’s financial capital, Bollywood town…This megapolis has earned hundreds of names–and with good reason. We aim to take this forward by platforming contemporary architects and designers, who have influenced this city’s urban landscape, at India’s most definitive design week. From 27-29 September 2024, at Jio World Garden, BKC, Mumbai. Book your tickets here, on BookMyShow.
