The dusty highway leading to Sidhpur, in western India's Gujarat state, winds through arid landscapes past roadside eateries and herds of lumbering camel, offering little hint of what the historic town holds.
In the heart of Sidhpur lies a street lined with stately three- and four-story mansions, known as "havelis," in a fading palette of rainbow pastel shades, from teal and baby pink to pistachio green. Known locally as Paris Galli, or Paris Street, it transports visitors to a European city with grand Neoclassical architecture and a harmonious melange of Art Deco, Baroque and hybrid Indian styles.
Sidhpur is less than three hours' drive from Gujarat's capital Ahmedabad, but it remains under the radar of travelers and architecture enthusiasts. On the day of my visit, the neighborhood around Paris Galli appeared largely deserted, except for occasional passersby in the distinctive colored hijabs and gold and white caps worn by the Dawoodi Bohras, a Shia Muslim sect that first settled in this part of western India in the 11th century.
The Bohras are a close-knit trading community that originated in Egypt and later traveled around North Africa, the Middle East and South Asia to trade in spices, gems and perfumes. The sect's seat was later moved from Yemen to Sidhpur, where its followers showcased their prosperity and wealth by building hundreds of opulent residences in the first half of the 20th century. These housing clusters were called Bohrawads or Vohrawads, and the mansions' owners tried to outdo one another with chandeliers, Belgian glass and antique furniture, or by hosting grand dinners.
The community's close trading connections with Europe may have influenced its architectural sensibilities. The region's maharaja at the time, Sayajirao Gaekwad III, was also known to be fond of European architecture. He laid out strict planning rules, inspired by Scottish urban planner Patrick Geddes (who lived in India between 1914 and 1924), that resulted in strikingly uniform streetscapes, according to Sidhpur-born architect Zoyab A. Kadi.
The narrow houses were built in rows and sometimes reach three or four stories high.
"The Bohras extended their help to other communities during a famine in the early 1900s, and (in return) the Maharaja of Baroda gifted them a tract of land, as they were facing a housing shortage," he said. "It was on this land that they started building these magnificent edifices, which had to adhere to strict town planning rules."
Found mostly in Najampura district, where Paris Galli is located, the long, narrow mansions are made mainly of wood (the material's flexibility is an advantage in earthquake-prone regions) in addition to plaster and brick. The designs feature gabled roofs, pilasters and columns, carved doors and ornate overhanging "jharokha" windows that protrude from the front of each mansion. The main living floor is located above street level over a basement; stepped plinths, or "otlas," act like porches and were traditionally used as social spaces; whimsical monograms, featuring family initials or surnames in English, are often displayed on the buildings' facades.
"The courtyard houses, built in rows or sequence, exhibit rhythm with diversity," said Ahmedabad-based conservation architect, Ashish Trambadia, over the phone. "While each house has a unique color scheme, unique stucco art and grill work; the precise alignment of plinths, roof lines and floor lines gave the streets a unique character."
The buildings contain various elements of European architecture, including gabled roofs, pilasters and columns.
Unique design
India-based photographer Sebastian Cortés documented the town and its people in his series "Sidhpur: Time Present Time Past." The images present a certain melancholy, from the faded glory of the mansions' interiors to the women pictured gazing out of windows as they carry out household chores.
"I was inspired by the mercantile communities of India... who displayed their wealth most aesthetically," said New York-born Cortés in a phone interview. "This was inverse colonialism: The Bohras traveled around the world to countries like Burma (Myanmar), Thailand, Yemen and Ethiopia, and brought back various influences and then blended it with their own customs and traditions, using local artisans to create magic."
Kadi has also helped bring international attention to the houses by authoring three books about the town: "Sidhpur and Its Dawoodi Bohra Houses," "The Vohrawaads of Sidhpur" and "The Birth and Death of a Style."
The colorful homes feature elaborate window, door and facade details.
"At casual glance, the streetscape looks European, but if you look closely there's the Gujarati tradition of using wood as a building material, and the capitals (crowns of columns or pilasters) are neither Corinthian or Doric but hybrid - a product of various influences," said Kadi, who now runs an architectural firm in Chennai. "Many of the houses were designed to give women privacy, as most of the men were abroad working hard and making money. (The homes are) also suited to the local weather, in terms of design and materials used."
The houses' names, like Zainab Mansion and Kagalwala Manor, often reference the people who once lived there. There are showstoppers, like the Zaveri house (also known as the House with 365 Windows) which is now stained black with grit, its grand pilasters and geometric facade carvings in dire need of restoration, and the Teen Khuniya (or Three-Cornered House), with its distinctive triangular layout.
According to local resident and tour guide Insiya Bangalorewalla, the homes were typically divided into five linear sections: the "dehli" (a service area), the "chowk" (a central courtyard kitchen and bathroom, open to the sky for light and, today, ventilation fitted with grilles), the outer "pursaal" (a multipurpose room for living and dining), the inner "pursaal" (the coolest room, used as a bedroom) and the orda (the best room in the house, well-furnished and used by the head of the family).
The homes' interiors were often lavishly decorated
"From the street you can't see into the house thanks to a veil called the 'furtaal,' which protected the privacy of the women," added Bangalorewalla on a tour through Najampura.
The homes' interiors were often a visual feast decorated with geometric tiles, friezes, Persian carpets, dark mahogany and rosewood furniture, painted Belgian mirrors, antique corner pieces, family memorabilia and a special marble recess meant for storing water (water has an important status in Islam, and is used to cleanse or purify the home).
"Sidhpur's architecture is very unique," said Kadi, "as the buildings inspired by Western ideas and elements have been crafted by Hindu architects (but) are suited to an Islamic way of life."
Disappearing heritage
Official town figures suggest that, in the 1970s, there were at least 1,400 of the mansions across Sidhpur. But after India gained independence from Britain in 1947, many of Sidhpur's residents migrated overseas, or to larger Indian cities like Mumbai and Ahmedabad, leaving the houses' upkeep to caretakers or relatives.
Many of the houses now lie abandoned, locked up or awaiting restoration (or demolition).
Today, many are boarded up, lying forlorn and derelict or caught in legal tangles between former owners' descendants; others have been demolished to make way for modern developments, with the antiques and timber sold off by owners. The official data suggests that fewer than 400 of Sidhpur's havelis are currently inhabited.
To help conserve the disappearing mansions, Kadi, along with others from Sidhpur, co-founded the Sidhpur Heritage Collective in 2024. The group is working to document the town's architecture, as well as holding workshops and guided tours.
"Unfortunately, there are no heritage laws in India that prevent demolition of (privately owned) houses," said Kadi. "We also have no funds or body helping us in this project. Even converting these houses into homestays and Airbnbs has not yet taken off.
"(Sidhpur) has a lot to offer besides just these mansions, from a rich food culture to temples and mosques. I can only hope that we manage to save the town's architecture before it's destroyed forever. This needs public will and funding."
Comments