Some places have a captivating distinctness with a life of their own, a living, breathing organism. Kathmandu Valley is one such place.
Things in Kathmandu don't just happen, they develop over time and come into existence because of what the place and the people require and demand. It is a response of the built environment to the place, history, culture, people, and climate.
The vernacular architecture of Kathmandu evolved during the Malla period, an era of intricately carved timber framed buildings with deep red mud brick facades, sloped roofs of tiles over a layer of mud supported by timber trusses. The houses had thick brick walls with cupboards and niches embedded in them. The palaces and residences at the Darbar Squares of the Valley lent an aesthetic excellence to the era that has lasted to this day.
Yet, what is not adequately discussed is how these celebrated architectural achievements responded to the Valley's scenic setting, and transformed through the wrenching change of the recent past. What is the new vernacular architecture of Kathmandu today? Is it suited to what we want the city to be?
By taking it for granted, we tend not to value adequately this architectural legacy. Which is why the treasures of the Malla period and the living culture that they embody are being superceded by a globalised Kathmandu of soulless condominiums, ersatz office blocks with aluminium composite panels, glass-skinned malls, and vast billboards.
With the new grammar of Kathmandu's built environment, we have not just wiped out the historical heart of the Valley, but also marginalised the cultural heritage, lifestyle, festivals, and communities that it represents.
There is a temptation to over-romanticise the past. The past can be explained, studied, and usually makes sense. The present, however, seems cluttered and chaotic. In architecture, buildings from a previous era, temples, palaces, courtyards, monasteries, residences, have all been studied in relation to their proportional, utilitarian, and symbolic relevance.
So it makes sense when the ground floor of a Newar residence is not used for living purposes or when there is a circumambulatory space around the central shrine of a temple. The thick brick walls insulate against cold and heat.
Today, this is replaced by multi-disciplined and multi-cultural built spaces, a borderless egalitarian environment. On one hand there is a representation of many aspects of design found outside of Kathmandu, brought in by a cross-cultural metropolis, on the other is a nameless international style that is based on a global aesthetic and design principles.
The ambient space of Kathmandu is therefore a cluttered and intermixed mish-mash: history and heritage rub shoulders with a non-descript globalised look. Except for few recent examples of heritage conservation, an emerging Malla renaissance, and an effort to evolve a modern vernacular, for the most part the architecture of Nepal's capital symbolises the confusion and chaos of the country's current socio-political state.
This development doesn't just threaten our heritage, it also doesn't provide solutions to the everyday life of the Kathmandu urbanite. The Valley needs a new vernacular that values the past, while preparing us for a trying future.
Swati Pujari is an architect and editor of SPACES magazine. She is also involved in the conservation of the Swoyambhunath Mahachaitya.
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