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‘Homogenisation creates cultural amnesia'

‘Homogenisation creates cultural amnesia'

Hindustan Times05-05-2025
Dikshu C Kukreja is a leading Indian architect and the managing principal at Delhi-based C.P. Kukreja Architects, one of the country's most reputed architectural firms. A strong proponent of architecture rooted in its social, cultural and climatic context, he is known for blending contemporary design with local sensitivity. He spoke to HT's Manoj Sharma about the importance of contextual architecture. Edited excerpts:
How has globalisation influenced the architectural language of Indian cities over the years — are we losing the essence of 'place'?
Globalisation has played an important role in expanding the architectural imagination in India. However, in this pursuit, we are rapidly losing the nuances that define our places. Architecture, at its core, must be rooted—it is not just about form, but also about memory, community, and climate. When every city begins to resemble another, we risk erasing the very distinctiveness that makes each Indian city unique.
From Gurugram to Hyderabad, we're seeing a skyline of glass towers and luxury condos that could belong anywhere. Why do you think Indian developers and architects are increasingly favouring this aesthetic over vernacular forms?
This tendency is a reflection of aspiration, a strong belief that the international aesthetic symbolises success, modernity, and global relevance. Unfortunately, this often comes at the expense of cultural specificity. The faster we realise that true progress lies not in mimicking but in interpreting our own context meaningfully, the more resilient and relevant our cities will become.
In a climate like India's, local architectural traditions evolved with deep environmental sensitivity. Why are these principles often ignored in contemporary urban design?
It's not a lack of knowledge but of conviction. Everyone across the ecosystem—from architects and developers to clients and governing bodies—has a role to play. Many traditional principles, evolved over centuries, offer simple, elegant solutions to complex climatic challenges. Yet, in the rush for speed, spectacle, and perceived contemporaneity, they are either forgotten or treated as decorative afterthoughts.
Do you think there is still space in Indian cities to build a new kind of modernism—one that's global in ambition but rooted in local culture, climate, and history?
There is not only space, but an urgent need. One example from our practice is Ekatma Dham, the redevelopment of the sacred town of Omkareshwar in Madhya Pradesh. The project is conceived not merely as a pilgrimage destination, but as a cultural and ecological intervention that reinterprets spiritual symbolism through contemporary architecture. We've drawn from indigenous building traditions, sacred geometry, and regional materials to design spaces that are both evocative and enduring. Projects like these demonstrate how modern architecture in India can speak a global language without losing its native voice.
Growing international collaborations in Indian real estate often bring pre-packaged design templates. How do you negotiate with clients or foreign partners to preserve a more contextual approach?
The key lies in making a case—not just aesthetically, but economically, climatically, and socially—for contextual relevance. We see ourselves not just as service providers, but as cultural interlocutors. We introduce our partners to the stories, materials, crafts, and climates of the place. Often, once they begin to engage with this depth, the design brief itself evolves into something more meaningful than a replication of trends.
What do you see as the cost of this architectural homogenisation—not just visually, but culturally and socially?
When cities lose their distinctiveness, their people lose a part of their identity. Architecture is a living archive—it tells us who we are, where we come from, and how we live together. Homogenisation creates visual fatigue and cultural amnesia. To the next generation of architects, I would say this: Your role is not only to design buildings, but to shape belonging. Learn from the past, listen to the land, and build for the future—with care, with relevance, and above all, with honesty.
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Rakhsha Bandhan, protectors and repaying a debt of gratitude
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  • Time of India

Rakhsha Bandhan, protectors and repaying a debt of gratitude

Street Dogs are the biggest allies of women in a city where the biggest threat is Men A couple of years ago, as the Dhan Mill Compound in Chattarpur started to develop into this elite oasis of high art in the otherwise dark, Pataalok-esque neighbourhood, I found myself, after an art event, waiting for a taxi. It took almost 50 minutes for a cab to arrive, and it would have been terrifying except for one thing. Actually, two. Two brown-eyed Indies, unconditionally and instantaneously, became my besties for the hour, waited, demanded pets, all the time that I waited in that pitch-dark lane, a heartbeat away from becoming a crime file. I didn't have a scrap of food to give them; they had no reason to wait with me. No sooner had my cab come, they disappeared. Seeing me off to safety, back into that pitch darkness. These unconditional, instantaneous besties are the spirit of the Indian landscape. 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Their cause treated like zero priority, animal welfare activists have been reduced to caricatured feeders/rescuers. As I speak, our dog lovers colony WhatsApp group is circulating an Excel sheet recording the vaccination and sterilisation of all colony dogs. Every dog on that list is sterilised. Funded entirely from the pockets of those caricatured 'animal feeders'. Dogs in large numbers form packs and can look pretty intimidating, especially when they come charging at you threateningly. That's all it is, really. A warning. And an introduction. 'Hello, I this is my lane. Don't act smart.' One of those TV anchors claimed that she needs to be ushered from the parking lot to her home by a male member to protect herself from stray dogs. The same could be said about men. Only, the women of this city do not ask for its entire male population to be bundled up into non-existent shelters, mostly because there is no room for such a discussion. Or because some of us know that, because of the actions of some men, you cannot put the entire male population into pounds. How, then, is this logic not applicable to stray dogs? It is also this quality of vigilance that makes them the best guards. A friend of mine, a resident of Alaknanda, reported a robbery sometime back in their society. The thieves had figured out the alarms and locks of most houses on a particular block. They only left the one building, which was guarded by an army of stray dogs. The resident of one of those flats used to feed them. Some RWAs have used these qualities to their advantage. In 2004, when I was a cub city reporter, our paper had carried a story about the Golf Links RWA, training its stray dogs to become colony guard dogs. Even in the present day, there are RWAs in West Delhi that are taking care of their dogs, treating them as members of their community. The dogs offer their guard services in return. Depending on how you channel them, the 'strays' and 'pests' can also be converted into 'assets' and 'resources'. The other arguments in favour of 'streeties' are, of course, the ecological ones. That completely stripping our dogs off the streets will disturb the ecological balance, causing the population of rats, monkeys — and other 'rabies-causing' animals — to grow. A public health professor at Edinburgh reported that stray dog removal will reverse rabies gains made over previous decades. But outside of these utilitarian reasons, the real reason to keep dogs — besides the fact that humans, in fact, don't own the planet — is simply this: they are our greatest friends. Our street dogs are part of our fabric, in the same way our languages are; they are the essence and the spirit of the Indian street, with its chaos, confusion, and screeching horns. 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A pinch of Tamil touch
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Restoring balance: 131 turtles thriving in Hajo temple pond to enter the wild
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