The Great Indian Glass Box Conundrum

Once upon a time, India was a land of beautiful buildings. Grand forts, carved temples, havelis with pretty balconies—every city had its own unique charm. And now? Every city has the unique case of glass boxes.

Yes, glass boxes. We know them. We work in them. We get lost in them. From Mumbai to Bangalore, from Gurgaon to Hyderabad, every office, mall, and tech park looks exactly the same—tall, shiny, and completely soulless. Take a walk down any IT hub, and you’ll see them standing proudly, reflecting the sun directly into your eyes like they’re out to get you.

“Look at us! We are modern and stylish!” they say. But let’s be honest—they all look like the same building copy-pasted a hundred times. And spare a thought for the pigeons! In the good old days, they had landmarks—an old temple or a crumbling haveli. And now, they can’t tell if they’re sitting on an IT park in Pune or a shopping mall in Chennai.

One wrong turn and they end up at an HR meeting instead of a food court. The real tragedy is that Indian architecture used to be fun. Big archways, cool courtyards, airy balconies—places where people actually wanted to sit and breathe. But now, everyone wants the same “international look or worse yet their next-door neighbour’s Pinterest feed.

The only thing “international” about it is that it looks like every other boring building in the world. Hopefully somewhere, right now, an architect is dreaming of something different. Maybe a mall that looks like a Rajasthani palace. A housing society with big, breezy verandas or an office that doesn’t feel like a soulless box of doom.

Until that day comes, we will continue to march into our identical glass towers, sip our cutting chai, and wonder when architecture became formulaic.

Once upon a time, India was a land of beautiful buildings. Grand forts, carved temples, havelis with pretty balconies—every city had its own unique charm. And now? Every city has the unique case of glass boxes. Yes, glass boxes. We know them. We work in them. We get lost in them. From Mumbai to Bangalore, from Gurgaon to Hyderabad, every office, mall, and tech park looks exactly the same—tall, shiny, and completely soulless.

Take a walk down any IT hub, and you’ll see them standing proudly, reflecting the sun directly into your eyes like they’re out to get you. “Look at us! We are modern and stylish!” they say. But let’s be honest—they all look like the same building copy-pasted a hundred times. And spare a thought for the pigeons! In the good old days, they had landmarks—an old temple or a crumbling haveli. And now, they can’t tell if they’re sitting on an IT park in Pune or a shopping mall in Chennai.

One wrong turn and they end up at an HR meeting instead of a food court. The real tragedy is that Indian architecture used to be fun. Big archways, cool courtyards, airy balconies—places where people actually wanted to sit and breathe. But now, everyone wants the same “international look or worse yet their next-door neighbour’s Pinterest feed.

The only thing “international” about it is that it looks like every other boring building in the world. Hopefully somewhere, right now, an architect is dreaming of something different. Maybe a mall that looks like a Rajasthani palace. A housing society with big, breezy verandas or an office that doesn’t feel like a soulless box of doom. Until that day comes, we will continue to march into our identical glass towers, sip our cutting chai, and wonder when architecture became formulaic.