Medieval Keys To Greener Buildings
Architectural
devices used by medieval builders of Hyderabad’s heritage complexes hold
lessons modern buildings must emulate
My room in the newly opened ITC Kohenur in Hyderabad
overlooked the 16th century Durgam Cheruvu reservoir, partly restored but still
dotted with water hyacinth and littered with the detritus of a bridge being
built to ease traffic, urban India’s perennial headache. In the distance, the
crenelated ruins of Golconda Fort formed a craggy backdrop to the white domes
of the Qutb Shahi necropolis, gleaming in the grey monsoon light.
It is, of course, not a coincidence that Hyderabad’s
second ITC hotel is named after the most famous diamond extracted from the
mines bearing the same moniker as Golconda Fort. Everything from ITC Kohenur’s
magnificent crystal chandeliers in the lobby to the recurrent diamond theme
etched on the floors of the rooms reiterate its connection to both the old
grandeur of Hyderabad as well as the new splendour of Cyberabad.
For me, however, the hotel and the medieval monuments
seen from its huge windows seemed to be perfect opposites. The Kohenur
certainly epitomises the ITC Hotels’ Indian ethos and the chain’s motto of
responsible luxury. But a chance meeting with the group’s executive
vice-president (projects) Alwyn Noronha in the lobby revealed an unlikely
synergy with the monuments as well.
Technology now offers many easy if expensive ways to
ensure water, cooling, heat and light. So the need to consider and respect natural
elements like climate, topography and orientation for prestigious projects is
now optional. Hotels, in particular, can (and often do) spend inordinate
amounts of money and effort to ensure all these for their guests when a little
forethought can save them millions, and make their buildings more eco-friendly.
Ancient and medieval architects had to be far more
perspicacious, keeping in mind the limitations of the locale while addressing
the aspirations of their royal patrons. The Golconda Fort and the unique Qutb
Shahi necropolis below (now being restored by the Aga Khan Trust for Culture
for the Telangana Government) are cases in point, where nature was not
combatted but coopted to provide both the living and the dead a salubrious
environment.
The Durgam Cheruvu anicut provided me with the key
link. Once known as the hidden lake as it nestled in a natural rock cradle
behind Jubilee Hills, it actually supplied water to Golconda Fort using an
ingenious system of underground pipes and gravity. That is why the Qutb Shahi
garrison inside the besieged fort could thwart Emperor Aurangzeb’s Mughal army
indefinitely in the summer; sadly, it finally fell in 1687 due to treachery.
The Qutb Shahis devised a fivetiered system to ensure
water. From the bund at the Durgam Cheruvu, located at 610m above sea level to
Golconda fort, also at the same height, water flowed secretly via pipes and
even an aqueduct, bypassing several mosques and the urban lakes of Malakka
Cheruvu and Ibrahimbagh Cheruvu, reappearing as a mostlyhidden canal near the
Qutb Shahi complex before continuing onwards to the fort above.
While Durgam Cheruvu’s water passed by the Qutb Shahi
tombs, the medieval architects of the complex also did their bit to conserve
water. As the AKTC restoration project reveals, the complex is aligned so that
rainwater flows into pits, which then carry the water to custom-built baolis so
that not a drop is wasted. Seven baolis had systems to draw water out using
oxen so that the tombs and gardens always remained clean and verdant.
The Golconda Fort’s chambers were so aligned that the
winds naturally cooled the interiors—a real boon, as the region is hot or
sweltering all year round. Even the tombs below remain cool as I discovered,
walking around the complex on a particularly muggy day. No wonder the Qutb
Shahi royal family apparently often spent time in the necropolis not only
paying homage to ancestors buried there but even relaxing in the hamam sauna
and baths.
The hamam — a favourite locale for Telugu films
thanks to its eye-catching arched interiors — was initially thought to be a
mortuary bath but was definitely meant for the living, as Prashant Banerjee,
AKTC’s conservation architect and project leader, explained. Its stone floors
have hollow channels underneath, through which boiling water was passed to
create steam even as several cold plunge pools offered a respite.
So it is apt that the ITC Kohenur overlooks the
Durgam Cheruvu, for the company has used technology to cooperate with the
environment, not overcome it. It is easy to get awed by its impressive
presidential suite, complete with gigantic bulletproof plate-glass windows
(which squashed the thumb of my unwary guide, the hotel’s genial general
manager) but ITC Kohenur’s real marvels, like the water channels, are not
obvious.
As Alwyn Noronha pointed out, it begins with the
shape of the hotel — a narrow Z with the building appearing to lean forwards at
an angle. What I thought was just an architectural device to stand out amid the
high-rise razzle-dazzle of Hyderabad’s Hitec city, turned out to be a carefully
crafted plan to optimise the plot while minimising costs of cooling and
lighting. How medieval and yet how modern; so practical and logical!
“We found that an orientation of 93 degrees N would
be the best for light and cooling all year round,” Noronha said as he drew a
diagram on a napkin. “But the plot was too narrow on that axis to accommodate a
straight building so we angled the edges to form an S or a Z, so that we can
maximise lake views.” Add to that strategically located louvered sections and
balconies, the building gets sunlight but also shade for segments with tall
windows.
The leaning-forward look of the building also has a
practical element, as I found out from Noronha. The tapering has been done to reduce
the direct impact of the sun on the east-west axis, so that guests can enjoy
sunrises and sunsets without the need for excessive air-conditioning to offset
the heat. Very neat indeed. And wooden louvers and balconies also make sure
that a low sun will also not cause overheating even in the Hyderabad summer.
The edges of the building are rounded, not only for
airflow but also as an ode to the dramatic wind-smoothened boulders so integral
to the rocky landscape of this part of the Deccan. Unfortunately, the large
projects in the area — including India’s first IKEA outlet — don’t pay homage
to this unique geology. But if these rocks remain perched at precarious angles
despite millennia of winds and monsoons, the hotel did well to incorporate this
feature.
Taking a cue from the orderly, verdant charbaghs that
were the medieval luxury customers’ (aka Qutb Shahi royalty and nobility!) way
to relax, sky gardens have been added at various levels to green the hotel as
well as allow natural ventilation and fire breaks. And the vertical gardens
along the entrance area made me think that medieval architects and landscape
planners would have appreciated this method to cool the building and soothe the
eye!
The sheer wealth of a bygoneera’s architectural
ingenuity visible in Hyderabad should have made its custodians sensitive to its
legacy. Instead, among the incongruities introduced in our supposedly more
enlightened times are a Japanese garden in the Qutb Shahi complex and a huge
Buddha statue in the Hussain Sagar Lake. Luckily there is now a move to restore
this legacy and hopefully earn a Unesco World Heritage Site tag.
All the architectural devices used by ITC have an
impeccable rationale, which begs the question of why these methods are still
not the norm or mandatory. Hyderabad is full of medieval manmade water bodies
and naturally cool and airy buildings, which proves that sultans of yore were
more concerned about the environment and the basic needs of their people than
today’s political potentates. Has technology made us lazy or arrogant? Or both?
Reshmi Dasgupta
ETM 5AUG18
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