Proposal for the Airport Site
Engulfed by the walls of the Mumbai Airport, we not only see the impact of excessive trash dumping but also dramatic changes to the river's natural drainage patterns due to airport development and land acquisition efforts. The airport’s runway extend over the River Mithi, claiming the river as land for development and leaving little a small tunnel equivalent no space for the river to flow. Each monsoon season, the large sudden inflow of water under the airport runway floods the slum communities living near the banks of the river. Each year more than 2,000 homes and many more people are affected, with many deaths reported. One major disaster due to this development was the Mumbai flood of 2005. It was the time when city of Mumbai was rapidly urbanizing. Due to the retaining walls of the airport, the rain water has no place to drain to, This is intensified along with the accumulation of plastic trash, almost normalized local municipal waste dumping even further.
If we could understand the physical, environmental, social, and economic mechanisms of the river’s demise more holistically, we could develop architecture that builds off of existing river bridges to locate new site-specific civic infrastructure each addressing both the most pressing environmental need of the river at that point and the most critical one for the lives of those along its banks.
Starting by identifying the most immediate need of the community, a safety during monsoon. Almost like a boat coming to rescue, the structure is well connected to the community by building on the bridge with the ramps seeping towards the houses. Series of piers create a water front for the boats during emergies. Surrounded by fishing net on both sides of the structure is used to capture trash.
Scale model documenting the geological features of the River Mithi
Fabric of Learning
Tucked just behind the curve of Mumbai’s Mahalaxmi Railway Station, Dhobi Ghat opens up like a living map—layers of motion, color, and memory all unfolding at once. From above, it looks like patchwork: lines of cloth stretched tight between buildings, hundreds of garments in mid-dry, caught between sun and shade. The air carries the smell of soap and the sound of water. Stone wash pens are worn down from decades of use, and corrugated tin roofs glint under a steady sun.
Down at ground level, the day begins early. Dhobis—sleeves rolled, feet bare—work side by side, scrubbing, wringing, hanging, folding, their hands repeating rhythms passed down through generations. There’s movement and noise everywhere: water slapping stone, buckets clanging, voices rising in conversation or calling out to a child darting past rows of wet cloth. Elder women sit in corners, pressing garments and passing on stories under the hum of steam irons.
But this is far more than a workplace. It is a fully-formed neighborhood—a dense, interdependent ecosystem of around 200 families, many with young children who grow up between clotheslines and concrete. Despite washing over 100,000 garments each day, Dhobi Ghat exists largely outside institutional planning and political recognition. Most families here belong to historically marginalized communities. Their labor supports the city’s infrastructure, yet remains undervalued and often unseen.
The pressures are real. Mechanization is creeping in. Some have adapted, others are left negotiating rising costs with aging tools. Promised infrastructure upgrades come slowly or not at all. Earnings are modest. Housing is informal, exposed to the elements, without guaranteed access to basic amenities. Still, a quiet strength persists—rooted in craft, culture, and community. The Ghat survives not because it is protected, but because it adapts.
And it is within this capacity for adaptation that the seeds of change lie.
Rather than approaching Dhobi Ghat as a site in need of intervention, the design response emerges from its existing social and spatial logics. What begins to take shape is not a top-down solution, but a set of architectural frameworks—distributed commons—that work with the grain of everyday life. These commons are informal, adaptable, shared-use spaces that support learning, exchange, and care in ways already familiar to the community.
Constructed from humble materials—reclaimed wood, bamboo, corrugated metal—these small structures are embedded into rooftops, alleyways, courtyards, and gaps in the fabric. They are not buildings in the conventional sense, but open nodes shaped by need: a bench in shade, a shelf, a wall to write on. They shift in function as the day progresses. In one moment, a place to sketch or read. In another, a space for dialogue on health, finance, or water. Infrastructure itself—solar panels, rain tanks, edible gardens—becomes educational, participatory, and legible.
Each commons remains porous, with no fixed boundaries. Low partitions guide but do not enclose. Fabric walls move with the breeze. Participation is intuitive. These are spaces that respond to people, not instruct them—offering subtle scaffolding for knowledge to circulate, rooted in local rhythms of work and life.
The result is not a singular transformation, but a distributed strategy. It bridges the gap between formal and informal education, not by mimicking schools, but by nurturing everyday learning. It addresses economic vulnerability by supporting intergenerational skill-sharing. It begins to challenge political invisibility by carving out visible, collective space that speaks to the cultural and civic value of the dhobi community.
This is not an end point but an evolving process. The proposal responds to conditions as they are: layered, alive, and resilient. Its intent is to create space for futures to grow—not imposed, but invited.
Dhobi Ghat holds untapped power—an urban pulse long overlooked. By building upon its existing foundations, we begin to imagine an ecosystem where education, equity, and spatial dignity are not privileges, but entitlements—shaped within the very labor that sustains the city. This is more than redefining space. It is a reframing of agency. A quiet revolution in how communities engage with knowledge, one bench, one wall, one story at a time.
The impact. The change. The future of education—woven into the fabric of everyday life.