Malleshwaram, Bengaluru

My thesis, in progress. Cities are built to grab your attention. This is about places that help you get it back.
Wanting without arriving
Every space we walk into today is designed to keep us inside it. The mall, the metro and the phone in your pocket all run on the same thing: wanting without arriving.
So the pre-thesis started with the brain, not with buildings. From what I read, dopamine has more to do with wanting than with pleasure: it rises in anticipation of a reward. Quick triggers like notifications push it much higher than sunlight, music or a walk, and then it drops below where it started.
Out of that came a manifesto of twelve rules. Everything I've designed since gets tested against them.
The Antidote Manifesto. Twelve rules from the pre-thesis: uneven ground, no fixed programme, temporal honesty, accidental encounters, a structure that borrows from what's already there, and more. Every later move has to pass them.
Reading the site
Mantri Square in Malleshwaram is the strongest version of the trap. The metro sky-bridge drops commuters straight into the mall's first floor, so train, mall and phone become one sealed loop.
On the other side, Srirampura is cut off by a rail moat four to six metres deep. The maidan is fenced off, and a nala runs buried underneath it all.
Site walk, July 2026.
Verbs, then bands, then snakes
Before drawing any plan, I wrote the programme as verbs along the paths people already take: rest, eat, make, talk. On butter paper, the paths thickened into bands, and the bands into three snakes: create, consume, and just be.
Snakes become alligators
At a crit, the grey massing I'd moved on to got called out. It had thrown away everything the snakes had: the floating band, the open ground, the see-through parts. So the snakes went back onto the site and grew into alligators, with bellies (rooms and courts) and throats (passages). A body you can actually occupy. And the manifesto had to be on every sheet from then on.
A ground, a ribbon and a hide
Traced from the butter sheets: a ground that steps down to −3 m, a pink ribbon that climbs to +12 m, and a triangulated green hide over both. Where the ribbon crosses itself, it knots, and the knots hold a crèche, a library and talking steps.
This is still in progress. I'm detailing it by hand right now.
Next site · Shivajinagar, Bengaluru
Culinary Arts Institute
