Tracing the soul of a city through its homes, this column looks at houses as living archives of the millions of people who make Delhi.
In the 1940s, the diplomatic enclave of Chanakyapuri was a jungle – an extension of the ridge. A young Indian Foreign Service (IFS) family bought a patch of land near Kautilya Marg, sceptical that anything would come up around them, yet they took the plunge. In 1954, architect Karl Malte von Heinz was commissioned to build them an Indian bungalow. Thus came a Heinz treasure in Chanakyapuri.
There is something cinematic about a Heinz house. The most typical feature is the glorious staircase, moulded most often by temple workers. Every time I walk into a Heinz house, I look for the staircase. The thick railing.
The ornate balustrade, floriated or indented with the fauna of South Asia. It is almost impossible not to picture the lady of the house gliding down the generous staircase with its wide, short steps, letting her make a proper entrance. This staircase appears in many houses by the architect. If the staircase was the cherry on the cake, the cake would be the house exterior – patterned or modulated to suit the Indian summer.
The house is organised with wide verandahs wrapping portions of it, columned and well-spaced to let light pour in. Air moves through the structure. Light enters without heat. The plan follows function. Rooms remain cool in the north Indian summer. Terrazzo floors run through the interior. A fireplace anchors the drawing room and the study. In some houses, below, sits a wine cellar – rare for Delhi at the time.
From the outside, the form is cubic. The walls carry subtle surface work – sometimes pinched, sometimes patterned, sometimes textured. A dotted motif marks sections of the facade. Inside, the geometry softens through curves in the stair and ceiling edges. This contrast between exterior restraint and interior modulation defines the house. This Indian bungalow becomes even more interesting when one delves into the history of its architect. Austrian-origin Karl Malte von Heinz was born in 1904. Trained in the climate of German modernism.
He arrived in India after the upheaval in Europe, when the Bauhaus and modernist culture came under attack by the Nazi regime. Modern architecture had stood for internationalism, experimentation, and industrial life. The regime demanded nationalist art, classical form, and tradition. Many architects dispersed. Heinz was among those who moved east.
Accounts of his early years in India differ. One narrative places him in Hyderabad, travelling with a Turkish prince, Abdul Karim, and staying with an Osmania University professor. Another situates him in Indore, working with the Maharaja.
By the time he approached Delhi, he was designing for patrons connected to the emerging Indian state. This house in Chanakyapuri belongs to this phase.
A localised modernism, informed by a global transition – modernism not as a fad but as resistance, as a futuristic decision by thinkers of the 1940s who had seen a world ravaged by ideology. Solutions were sought in cultural shifts on their own, without state sanction, and were adopted worldwide, even if in small measure. Sometimes you hear stories like these and think about how many people and communities India has given refuge to, and how successful a safe space this has been for them.
His method followed the principles of German rationalism. Function before ornament. Planning as structure. Light, air, and circulation treated as architectural elements. In India, he adapted quickly. Heat had to be deflected. Shade had to be built. Verandahs became instruments of climate. Walls carried mass. Openings controlled glare. The modern house was reworked for the subcontinent.
Heinz also designed diplomatic buildings for Pakistan, Thailand, Yugoslavia, and the Vatican. Concrete and planning served diplomacy. Yet his residential work remained closer to what Delhi wanted as a house – homes for civil servants, diplomats, and families who sought modern life without abandoning climate logic. The Chanakyapuri house stands as one such example.
When it was built, the district was still forming. The foreign service family expected the area to grow. During construction, a friend purchased the adjoining plot, then returned it, believing development would not come. The house was larger than the family required. It was later leased to prominent residents, including the Nawab of Rampur. The rent stood at 1,500 rupees in the 1950s.
The house is organised with wide verandahs wrapping portions of it, columned and well-spaced to let light pour in. (HT)
Today, the house remains part of the early layer of Delhi’s modernism. A record of a moment when the city was rebuilding itself after Independence and Partition. Local material met international thought. Architects, planners, government, and citizens together shaped new neighbourhoods and new identities. Through this house, one can trace the journey of an émigré modernist and the making of a modern capital.
Anica Mann works on archaeology and contemporary art in Delhi. The views expressed as personal.
source/content: hindustantimes.com (headline edited)