A city that never sleeps, a buzzing metropolis sheltering millions grappling with the race against time -- Dhaka might pose as an architect’s dizziest dilemma.
When I was in architecture school, the city seemed like an artist’s canvas. Beautiful mosques, shiny skyscrapers, and luxe residences: a student of architecture could barely wait to get a license and a chance to design the city!
However, practicing architecture in this chaotic megacity can make a young professional feel as if they are back in the first year of university: constantly learning, unlearning, and relearning.
Dhaka is busy, Dhaka is uncaring, and Dhaka leaves you with too little time to wonder if it could be beautifully planned and strategically designed. Here, spaces grow underneath flyovers and tall trees, tiny balconies desperately seek out a piece of sky, and tight plots define the urban lifestyle. Where is the room for imagination? How can an aspiring architect dream?
Our past is fascinating. Take, for example, Ahsan Manzil by the Buriganga. As a student, I once visited the palace. I saw those column capitals, arched windows, and views of how river life unfolded. The stories of foreign traders on boats, royal Nawabs, zamindars in the grand halls, and ‘suited-booted’ Englishmen came alive from the books.
The grandeur is long gone; shiny palaces are now replaced by a modernist language. From Old Dhaka’s Armenian Church, Tara Masjid, or Lalbagh Fort -- the northern part of the city’s architecture poses a stark contrast. The newer part is exciting, brimming with youth, and the prime architectural symbol of Bengali modernism, to me, remains the Fine Arts building of Dhaka University by Muzharul Islam.
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Charukala draws you in without trying; it does not intimidate. Unlike the rest of the city, Charukala is down-to-earth. You do not walk inside; you wander about and find yourself walking upward with the spiral staircase. The deliberately preserved greenery naturally befriends you and snaps you out of the chaos in your head!
The openness in the main building, a tribute to our tropical climate -- and how the facade is made private with wooden louvres -- draws an iconic image that stays in an architect’s head. Moreover, how lucky are we to possess one of the masterworks of architect Louis I Kahn?
Standing at the complex, witnessing the wisdom behind the masterplan of the National Assembly Building, I once watched the surrounding waterscape, then the sharp cuts of concrete meeting the soft sprawl of the delta, our roots.
Once surrounded by rivers, Dhaka now yearns for water. From dreamy Sher-e-Bangla Nagar to the posh avenues of Kemal Atatürk: architecture seems to grow taller in height and style. Some buildings may read as exaggerated showcases; some appear all too mechanical, and some play with form and space with perfect harmony -- an ode to 21st-century Dhaka.
Commercial high-rises parade, some circular, some twisted or modular, some wrapped in shiny glass facades. Among all the showcases, Ninakabbo, located in Tejgaon, is bound to catch the eye with verses of poems written on concrete walls. Truly, a stunning example of how architecture can depict a perfect marriage between poetry and business!
As Dhaka struggles to provide spaces to live, to slow down: gazing at the sleek towers, the perfectly articulated residences, an aspiring architect can wish to design a beautiful house someday. A quietly luxurious living -- one with a large balcony filled with lush green -- a house where users can hear the birds chirp instead of traffic honks, where monsoon drenches, and a full moon can be found despite the layers of dust in our beloved city!
