The villages are disappearing! 

Not in a way you think, but in the way a photograph slowly fades. The people are still there. The streets are still busy. But the homes are changing, layer by layer. 

Earlier, people built their homes using materials they could find nearby. Mud, stone, and brick walls kept the rooms cooler. Roofs made of clay tiles or thatch allowed heat to escape and rain to drain easily, and floors finished with earth or lime stayed comfortable underfoot.

Rural families adapted to what they believed was better for their future.

Rooms were positioned to get ample light and air. Open spaces encouraged airflow, while verandas and courtyards created shaded areas for the families to gather, sort grains, speak with neighbours, or simply rest. These homes were not planned with drawings or designs. They came from experience passed down through generations. 

Over the years, village life began to change. People travelled more, studied, and were exposed to new ideas. Slowly, the meaning of a “good house” changed, too. Cement walls, concrete roofs, and tile flooring took the front seat. The house’s layout was decided more by appearance than by daily habits and climate. Balconies replaced verandas, and courtyards and open spaces eventually shrank and disappeared. 

Slowly, the meaning of a 'good house’ changed, too.

There is nothing wrong with the desire to build a better home. For many families, a modern house stands as proof of years of hard work and hope that the next generation will live more comfortably. Wanting that kind of progress is only natural. 

But these homes did not fully resemble city homes either. They appeared unfinished in their identity because they were built with just outside influence and not the architects’ guidance, since professional help was expensive or simply unavailable in rural areas. 

A modern house stands as proof of years of hard work.

Older homes were built with an understanding of the land and the weather. When such houses disappear, we are stepping away from a way of building that cared for comfort, climate, and community. 

It does not mean that the villages should remain exactly as they were. No place can stand still while the world around it moves forward. So, the conversation is not about stopping modernisation.

The question is- why must moving forward always mean leaving behind wisdom that has served people well for generations?

Maybe what we need is not a clear choice between old and new, but a pause before we replace one with the other. Traditional homes are often seen as something that belongs only to the past, as if they have completed their role. We still have something to take from it. Because building a home is never only about materials or finishes. It is about deciding what should continue and what we can change. 

Progress does not have to wipe away the foundation. It can grow from it, taking the memory forward rather than leaving it behind.