MaatiMol

08/10/2026

09/07/2026

Every intervention alters a landscape. The real question is: in which direction?

A hillslope scarred by erosion, streams cut into deep gullies, abandoned terraces that stay waterlogged through the monsoon—this is not an untouched landscape. It has already been shaped by us.

Long before the hills were cleared for cultivation, these slopes in the Western Ghats around Bhor were likely a mosaic of forests, grasslands, seasonal streams, wetlands and rich undergrowth. Rain would have been intercepted by vegetation, absorbed into deep, living soils, and released slowly through springs and streams.

If we now slow the water with small loose stone bunds, reduce soil erosion, rebuild the soil, and gradually restore diverse tree-based food gardens, are we altering the landscape? Certainly. But perhaps we are nudging it back towards functioning more like it once did—a landscape that holds water, builds soil, supports biodiversity and becomes increasingly self-sustaining.

This isn't an argument against farming. Our grain-growing regions will continue to feed millions, and they are indispensable.

But many people are now choosing to leave urban life and build homes on small pieces of land in places like these. Almost by default, they end up replicating conventional farming systems—systems that evolved under very different social and economic conditions, and that increasingly depend on scarce water, external inputs and agricultural labour that is itself becoming harder to find.

I've been watching this pattern for a few years now, and it makes me wonder: if we're beginning with a blank slate, could we imagine something different?

Could these smaller landscapes become places where ecological restoration and food production strengthen each other? Where diverse, tree-based food systems complement—not replace—conventional agriculture, while producing fresh, nutrient-dense food, reducing dependence on external inputs, and asking less of an already stressed landscape?

If every intervention alters a landscape, perhaps the question is not whether we change it—but whether we help it become more alive than it was before.

09/07/2026

प्रत्येक हस्तक्षेपामुळे भूभाग बदलतो. खरा प्रश्न एवढाच असतो—तो बदल कोणत्या दिशेने होत आहे?

धूप होऊन खोल दऱ्यांमध्ये बदललेले ओढे, अनेक वर्षे पडीत पडलेली शेतं आणि पावसाळ्यात पाणी साचणारे उतार... हा निसर्गाचा मूळ चेहरा नाही. हा मानवी हस्तक्षेपानंतरचा भूभाग आहे.

आपल्या सह्याद्रीत, शेतीसाठी डोंगरउतार साफ होण्यापूर्वी हा प्रदेश कदाचित दाट जंगलं, गवताळ माळरानं, हंगामी ओढे, पाणथळीचे भाग आणि समृद्ध जैवविविधतेने भरलेला असेल. पावसाचं पाणी झाडांच्या आच्छादनातून आणि जिवंत मातीतून हळूहळू मुरत राहिलं असतं आणि वर्षभर झरे-ओढ्यांना मिळत राहिलं असतं.

आता आपण लहान दगडी बंधारे बांधत आहोत, मृदसंधारण करत आहोत, पाणी जमिनीत मुरवण्याचे प्रयत्न करत, विविध झाडांवर आधारित अन्नबागा उभारतो आहोत—तर आपण या भूभागात बदल घडवत आहोत का? नक्कीच.

पण कदाचित हा बदल त्या भूभागाला पुन्हा पाणी साठवणारा, माती घडवणारा, जैवविविधतेला आधार देणारा आणि स्वतः टिकून राहू शकणारा बनवण्याच्या दिशेने असेल.

हा पारंपरिक शेतीविरोधी विचार नाही. धान्य उत्पादनासाठी मोठ्या प्रमाणावरची शेती आवश्यकच आहे.

पण आज अनेक जण शहरातून ग्रामीण भागात स्थायिक होण्याचा निर्णय घेत आहेत. अशा वेळी समोर उपलब्ध असलेला आदर्श बहुतेकदा पारंपरिक, एकपीक-केंद्रित शेतीचाच असतो. परिणामी, नव्याने सुरू होणाऱ्या छोट्या शेतांमध्येही त्याच पद्धतीची पुनरावृत्ती होते—ज्या पद्धती आधीच पाणी, बाह्य संसाधने आणि दिवसेंदिवस कमी होत चाललेल्या शेतीमजुरांवर मोठ्या प्रमाणात अवलंबून आहेत.

गेली काही वर्षं, पारंपरिक शेती आणि च्या बागेच्या बांधावर उभ्याउभ्याच हा एक प्रश्न सतत पडतो...

जेव्हा आपण नव्याने सुरुवात करण्याची संधी आहे, तेव्हा आपण वेगळा मार्ग निवडू शकत नाही का?

पारंपरिक शेतीला पर्याय म्हणून नव्हे, तर पूरक म्हणून—झाडांवर आधारित, विविधतेने समृद्ध अन्नबागा उभारण्याचा विचार आपण करू शकत नाही का? अशा अन्नबागा निसर्गाला सावरतात आणि त्याच वेळी आपल्या घरासाठी पोषक, वैविध्यपूर्ण अन्नही देतात.

जर प्रत्येक हस्तक्षेपामुळे भूभाग बदलणारच असेल, तर तो अधिक सजीव, अधिक सक्षम आणि अधिक समृद्ध बनवणाऱ्या दिशेने का नसावा?

08/06/2026

Adobe homes are sculptures we live inside...

They need no paints on walls, no paintings framed, no external ornamentation. These homes are quite the opposite of those turned into eclectic museums...

The windows become your frames. And the walls mould themselves softly around you. The light changes tone around each facet, speaking in warm texture and shadow.

One needs to experience how the light moves from dawn to dusk... how the windows look out to the garden... to know in their heart why the walls ask for nothing at all.

There is a subtle understatement of luxury in the bare simplicity of these walls. The luxury of simply being and not announcing it. Knowing that an announcement is not needed for a presence of such gravity.

Just sit in front of a bare adobe wall one evening. Watch the theatrical dusk light incline and diffuse, making way for the roof to become a source of light tonight.

And then perhaps you realise something else.

The walls, the roof, the light — all of it has been composed intentionally and painstakingly.

Not to become the object of your admiration.

The architecture quietly recedes into the background.

Because the object of admiration has always been you.

Walking through the doorway.
Pausing in the evening light.
Casting a shadow against an earthen wall.

The house was never sculpted for itself.

It was sculpted, unapologetically, around you in it...

20/05/2026

Construction sites as learning spaces....

A few days ago, our earthen building site turned into a drawing literacy workshop led by our friend and mentor Sourabh Phadke. We invited workers from all our sites — masons, carpenters, helpers, team leaders, women, men and children — and for three hot afternoons, everyone gathered in the cool living room of a completed mud house to learn and play together.

We mapped our surroundings, measured spaces, drew plans, sections and elevations, and spoke about drawings as a language — a way to communicate ideas that do not yet exist.

What elated us most was the enthusiasm. People were free to skip the sessions and join only for the watermelon break (2 giant watermelons disappeared very quickly each afternoon), but almost everyone stayed through the activities — debating, asking questions, laughing and trying things out.

For a long time, the ability to read drawings has quietly held power on construction sites. Drawings often remain rolled up under the arm of a contractor or locked away in inaccessible office files.

A few years ago, we began printing drawings and leaving them openly on site for everyone to access.

To read.
To question.
To argue with.
To negotiate through.

And then — whatever is decided together, we build together.

This workshop felt like a continuation of that intention.

Our clients are not only investing in mud houses. They are also supporting a culture of shared learning, skill building and dignity within construction practice.

The conversations after the workshop were especially hopeful. Some members of our team had previously attended programs at Hunnar Gurukul in Saswad. But for many others, this was the first time learning felt playful, collective and accessible.

Across practices today, several architects and builders are beginning to question the profession’s old “god complex” — and instead see architecture as an ecological and social process, co-authored by everyone involved.

The closer we move toward that idea, the more meaning it brings — not only to the process, but also to the buildings themselves.


Anasua Roychoudhury
Vincent Pavamani
Dnyaneshwar Bajirao Jadhav
Aayushi Laddha
Aditi Ogale Aaryaa Joshi

24/04/2026

This space held 60 odd people together one summer evening... just with stand fans and windows thrown open, it breathed steady... pleasant...

But even when just one of us walks about here, solitary, busy and lost in thought... it feels just as comfortably embracing as it felt in a bustling crowd.... there is a different quality to it, but it still is a joy... deep, grounded joy...of existing...

And that joy... is what makes it worthwhile. It has no single authorship to it. So many minds and hands worked together... directly, indirectly... continuously and intermittently... but with a deep commitment to their respective parts... each hand came in with something that added a character to this house....

My mentor, Didi, who was in her mid 80s at that time, used to smile at my-often angry- 26 years old face... she said you don't have to carry all of the load... have some faith.... did I tell you about the Buddhist prayer wheel?!

She said, that the devotee must only gently nudge the prayer wheel and walk on... without being attached to it... and trust that another will come along and nudge it... the prayer wheel will keep moving. We don't grab it by both hands and drag it around... just nudge and walk on...

It was hard to believe her... but I sit here late into the evening, in my mud smeared clothes... and 12 years from that evening... I experience it, finally...

She was right after all.... the prayer wheel indeed keeps moving...
And I am learning to walk on....

24/04/2026

Mudita

3500 sqft, 3 bedroom home in Pale, Bhor, Maharashtra

Stone foundation and plinth
Adobe walls and floors with mud plasters
Timber roof frame with bamboo rafters
Packing wood ceiling with tin sheet and mangalore tiles roof cladding

Earthworks, water and waste management, landscaping, food gardens, soil conservation: Studio Folium

Bamboo treatment .kolte

Head mason .3660
Carpentry
Earthworks and stone masonry Pulchand Devkar
Chandrakant Pawar
Plumbing
Electrical Sameer



Gore lal, Manohar and a team of 40 people who worked for 3 years.

21/04/2026