Urban Design Media
- Sindhu Prabakar
- Mar 8
- 4 min read
A curated collection of digital works that embody a specific ideology or design intention, developed as part of coursework under the guidance of Jared Abraham. This body of work explores key themes, such as spatial narratives, digital experimentation, or socio-political commentary demonstrating a thoughtful engagement with design principles, technological tools, or conceptual frameworks.
Urban spaces are often shaped by key elements known as anchors, which influence the organization of utilities and ancillary spaces over time. These anchors have long played a fundamental role in shaping cities and their evolving infrastructure.
The mapping presented here traces the path of "light poles" through various stages of development in and around the Thanjavur Big Temple. My fascination with aerial perspectives—whether observing the dense urban fabric of New York or the more intimate scale of Pittsburgh—has deepened my curiosity about how cities are structured from above. The way urban planning shifts, how light follows specific anchors, and the patterns of their concentration are particularly compelling to an urban designer who engages with cities at this scale. This mapping exercise envisions how Thanjavur might appear if it were to develop its own airport, offering a speculative perspective on how its urban fabric might transform.
In this mapping, the central anchor—the circle—represents the Thanjavur Big Temple. By tracing the placement of light poles across historical maps, we gain insight into the evolving social fabric of the city. These changes reflect broader shifts over time, from periods of war to the relocation of markets and the impact of modern technology.
Historically, the concentration of utilities and infrastructure was closely tied to the temple, reinforcing its role as the heart of communal and economic life. In contrast, contemporary urban development prioritizes density and housing, with utilities now aligned along residential clusters rather than ritual or cultural landmarks. This shift speaks to a broader transformation—the gradual "de-ritualization" of public spaces and the rise of more fragmented, individualized living patterns. The evolution from an agrarian society centered around collective traditions to one driven by civic and professional occupations is embedded in these spatial transformations, revealing the subtle yet profound ways urban life has adapted over time.
Growing up with young grandparents offers an uncanny sense of having lived in a past era—one that feels utopian yet unfamiliar compared to the present. Reflecting on my childhood, I have always been intrigued by the 200-year-old vernacular house we lived in and the way our family navigated its spaces. Documenting this experience was both enriching and disheartening. To say that gender played a significant role in shaping joint family structures would be an understatement.
The map on the left illustrates the plan and scale of this traditional home, located in what historical texts refer to as an "agraharam." Designed as a long, linear dwelling with little to no private spaces, the house followed a strict spatial hierarchy.
The kitchen, always positioned at the back, signified a protected and hidden realm, while the frontage remained open to the public through extended platforms called "thinnai." A typical 1-2 bedroom home spanned approximately 25 feet in width and stretched 160-200 feet in length, covering an entire lot. These joint families functioned within a patriarchal framework—women remained within the domestic sphere as the invisible labor force, while men engaged in business and public life.
I distinctly remember my grandmother pacing through the depths of the house but never stepping beyond its walls. Mapping these movements and the practices embedded in them made the rigid nature of this patriarchal structure strikingly evident. The map on the right expands this scale, tracing my grandfather’s daily travels through the city—an undeniable contrast to my grandmother’s confined spatial experience.
What makes these mappings particularly relevant is their continuity in today’s world. Observing my parents' routines, I realized that many of these spatial gendered divisions persist, albeit in different forms. Architecture has played a profound role in defining gendered freedom—its linear layouts, the "feminization" of specific spaces, and the reinforcement of traditional roles have sustained systemic biases. As contemporary discourse explores care politics and the unpaid labor of care, these spatial histories remain crucial in understanding the intersection of gender and the built environment.
This mapping presents a more political perspective on the devastating droughts that struck Thanjavur in the 1980s. Known as the "Rice Bowl" of Tamil Nadu, Thanjavur has long been an agrarian society deeply intertwined with the Kaveri River. The central orange circle marks the primordial house I’ve been yapping about, overlapping with this vital water source. The droughts of this period were a turning point in Thanjavur’s history—debt and loss became widespread, pushing countless farmers to the brink. Many, unable to cope with the burden of failing to provide for their families, took their own lives, marking a tragic chapter in the region’s collective memory.
This era reshaped the perception of agriculture, signaling a shift away from traditional farming toward civic and professional occupations. It also marked the beginning of large-scale urban migration—young people, in search of stability, left their ancestral lands behind, draining the district of its once-thriving agricultural workforce. The effects of this shift remain visible today, altering not just livelihoods but also the cultural and social fabric of Thanjavur.
Beyond its historical implications, this mapping also captures a personal sentiment. The fluctuating graph reflects my own emotional connection to my hometown—proximity brings happiness, while distance creates an undeniable sense of longing. Through this visualization, I attempt to reconcile both the personal and political narratives embedded in the landscape of Thanjavur.
Despite being coursework, I thoroughly enjoyed reflecting on such spaces, we rarely reflect on the day-to-day and this was an opportunity for me to get a deeper understanding of my birthplace. Do you relate?
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