To begin with, can you tell me a little about yourself? About your growing-up years…what were they like? How did you spend your time then? Any interesting anecdotes that shaped your life?
I was born in Thanjavur, a historic temple town in South India, shaped by the presence of the Brihadeeswara Temple, a monumental work in stone that quietly instilled in me a lifelong fascination with material, scale, and permanence.
As a child, I was deeply curious and constantly questioning. I spent much of my time drawing cars and bikes, which made drawing my first language of expression. A pivotal moment came when my father introduced me to Bruce Lee. What began as admiration for his physical prowess evolved into a profound spiritual influence that continues to guide both my life and architectural philosophy—discipline, clarity, and integrity became central to my approach.
My personal life has been marked by significant challenges, including surviving multiple cardiac arrests and the loss of my parents and my wife. These experiences reshaped my understanding of architecture—not merely as a profession, but as a medium for healing. They instilled in me a deep sense of empathy, compassion, and responsibility toward the human experience of space.
How and when did your romance with design begin?
Architecture, in many ways, found me. After not succeeding in my engineering entrance exams, it became my only path—but one I embraced wholeheartedly. The ability to translate thought into built form fascinated me, and despite early academic struggles, the joy of imagining and realizing spaces kept me grounded and motivated. I have been fortunate to learn from remarkable mentors such as B. V. Doshi, who taught me how to truly see; Dominic Dube, who instilled a pursuit of precision; and Peter Rich, who later helped me appreciate the beauty of imperfection.
My time in Auroville was foundational. It exposed me to community-driven, sustainable living and encouraged experimentation with materials and processes. It also fostered collaborations across disciplines, expanding my understanding of architecture as a layered and collective act. This philosophy carried forward into my practice.
What was the beginning of Play Architecture… what was the ethos you started it with?
Play Architecture and experimental practice, where we position ourselves between a critical regional approach and parametric processes—creating work that is rooted in context yet forward-looking. For us, architecture cannot exist in isolation; it is an intersection of material, culture, climate, and human touch. The tactile dimension is especially important, touch allows both material and user to reveal deeper truths.
You often describe Play Architecture as “exploring the edges of making.” In the context of Oh Ho House, what did that exploration look like in terms of structure and material decisions?
The OHHO House embodies these ideas of integrity and contextuality. In this project, context informed material, material demanded a new tectonic, and that tectonic—combined with function and climate—became architecture. The use of Chapdi stone, traditionally quarried as slabs, required us to rethink its application structurally and tectonically. Rather than imposing conventional systems, we allowed the material’s inherent properties to guide innovation.
We revisited the traditional idea of using stone in tension—something often dismissed by modern engineering but proven through centuries of South Indian architecture.
You work between India and the UK. What lessons from India influenced how you now approach projects in very different climates and cultures?
At a broader level, I see immense value in the dialogue between different worldviews. India’s spiritual and intuitive understanding of living, when combined with the scientific rigor of places like the UK, has the potential to create architecture that is both deeply human and highly refined.
Full-scale prototyping and on-site refinement seem central to your practice. Was there a specific 1:1 test or on-site adjustment at Oh Ho House that fundamentally changed the design?
Through full-scale, 1:1 mock-ups, we were able to test, validate, and collaborate with engineers to develop a viable structural approach. This process extended to all elements of the project, from joinery to glazing, ensuring that every detail was resolved through direct engagement with making. This project demonstrates that meaningful sustainable and regenerative architecture does not require scale—it requires intent. By reinterpreting history through a contemporary lens, we aim to inspire a renewed appreciation for traditional knowledge systems among younger generations. The principles of modularity, integrity, and cultural relevance explored here are inherently replicable.
Oh Ho House has been recognised by RIBA. Beyond the accolade, what do you hope this project and its chapadi stone system signals to the profession about low?carbon, locally rooted construction?
I strongly believe that materials like stone—abundant, recyclable, and enduring—can play a significant role in reducing reliance on carbon-intensive construction methods. When used responsibly, they offer a pathway toward a more sustainable and regenerative built environment.
Lastly, what do you think is the next big thing in design?
Ultimately, the future of architecture lies in learning from nature—its efficiency, adaptability, and quiet beauty. Nature does not strive for aesthetics; it evolves through necessity, and in doing so, becomes beautiful. That, to me, is the direction architecture must take.
Words Hansika Lohani
Date 18.3.2026