Born in 21st-century Delhi, I am, like many, a third-generation descendant of Partition refugees. Our grandparents brought with them indelible stories of loss, resilience, and the courage to rebuild. These narratives became the threads weaving our identities, shaping the neighbourhoods they established—a testament to the power of memories.
Once uprooted, people do not abandon their cultural habits—they carry them along, reshaping new spaces through their lived experiences and traditions. From Chinatowns and Little Italies to refugee camps and Latin American favelas, migrant communities are known to transform unfamiliar places into extensions of the worlds they leave behind. Architecture in these spaces bears the weight of emotion and culture, turning them into vessels for preserving traditions, coping with loss, and nurturing a sense of belonging.
The Paradox of Migration
At its core, migration is a deeply human act; a leap of faith and a gamble on a better future. Driven by the search for better work opportunities, and escape from hardships or environmental changes, thousands of families relocate to cities but with little guarantee of income or shelter. They often sacrifice their past in pursuit of a better tomorrow. On the face of it, cities promise economic advancement but this double-edged sword presents challenges of social isolation, housing shortages and the gradual erosion of cultural ties. While globalisation amplifies a reliance on cheap labour, usually in the form of migrant workers, this constant influx of newcomers places pressure on urban resources and innumerable challenges to social cohesion. This cycle often pushes migrants to the margins, forcing them into informal settlements that further deepen socio-economic and spatial divides.
Yet, these informal settlements reveal a contradiction—though they emerge from exclusion, they often become spaces of resilience and self-reliance. When denied access to formal infrastructure, people display remarkable ingenuity in crafting living spaces and livelihoods within these overlooked urban zones. Often situated on the fringes of cities, their neighbourhoods become places of survival and cultural adaptation, where memories are embedded into the architecture, rituals, and social practices to forge a sense of belonging in unfamiliar surroundings.
Latin American favelas illustrate how informal settlements embody resilience amidst socio-economic challenges. Built incrementally using readily available materials like bricks and scrap metal, the architecture tells tales of adaptation and resourcefulness. Homes are stacked vertically along steep hillsides, connected by winding alleys that facilitate close-knit social networks. However, the lack of formal infrastructure and secure land tenure exposes residents to significant risks, including landslides, flooding, and forced evictions. Despite these vulnerabilities, favelas are vibrant cultural hubs, thriving with samba music, street art, and community initiatives.
Preservation in Place-making
In transforming settlements into living archives of cultural memory, architecture becomes a language for the preservation and expression of identity. It incorporates building techniques, spatial layouts, and decorative elements reminiscent of those homelands. A striking example of this is seen in the Chinatown of Kolkata.
Established by Chinese immigrants in the late 18th century, this settlement reflects a unique architectural adaptation. The traditional Chinese-style temples, known as Chinese tongs, with their curved roofs and intricate woodwork, echo the heritage of southeastern China. Narrow lanes with herbal medicine shops, teahouses, and authentic eateries serving Hakka noodles and dumplings preserve the community’s cultural practices. Notably, this is where Manchurian, now a beloved staple of Indian-Chinese cuisine, first originated as an inventive fusion of Chinese cooking techniques with local Indian flavours.
Cities as Living Museums
In India, cities like Delhi, Mumbai, and Kolkata reflect this continuous reshaping of urban identity, evolving into cultural mosaics shaped by successive waves of migration. Delhi, for example, has pockets of different cultures that form a microcosm of their own. One such place, Majnu-ka-Tilla, vividly illustrates how migration reshapes urban identity.
Established in the 1960s by Tibetan refugees fleeing Chinese occupation, this settlement preserves a distinct culture within the bustling metropolis. The architecture of Majnu-ka-Tilla is a reflection of memory and adaptation—narrow, labyrinthine alleys are adorned with fluttering prayer flags, leading to Buddhist monasteries that serve as spiritual anchors for the community. Traditional interconnected and compact Tibetan homes, mirroring the social structures of villages left behind, reflect a strong sense of community and belonging. The streets are dotted with shops selling Tibetan handicrafts, clothing, and religious artefacts, while eateries serve traditional dishes like momos and thukpa, preserving the flavours of a homeland in exile. Majnu-ka-Tilla is more than just a residential area; it is a living repository of Tibetan culture, where language, music, and festivals thrive, maintaining cultural continuity across generations. Yet, it also adapts to urban dynamics, attracting students, tourists, and locals drawn to its unique ambience.
Exclusion and Resistance
Despite their cultural vibrance, informal settlements often face resistance to integration. This resistance stems from socio-economic exclusion, political marginalization, and the stigma of informality. In many Indian cities, these neighbourhoods exist outside formal planning frameworks, operating with their own social structures and economic systems.
For example, residents of Dharavi have long resisted redevelopment projects that threaten to displace them. While these initiatives promise better housing and infrastructure, they often overlook the practices that sustain these communities.
Dharavi is a place that nearly a million people call home. Its narrow lanes, makeshift homes, and thriving industries form a micro-city within Mumbai. Migrants across India have shaped this space, each with their own identities and cultural practices. Potters from Gujarat, leather artisans from Tamil Nadu, and garment workers from Uttar Pradesh coexist, preserving their traditions while adapting to the demands of urban life.
Dharavi’s architecture reflects this cultural mosaic, with narrow houses stacked upon each other, forming complex labyrinths. Yet, amidst this chaos, there is order—a community built on social networks and shared resources.
Informal settlements are powerful portrayals of human needs in their rawest form. Born out of necessity and shaped by memory, identity, and social networks, these spaces reflect a fundamental drive for shelter, community, and belonging. Their organic growth and resourceful designs demonstrate how architecture evolves when guided by basic human needs rather than formal planning rules. These spaces are not merely urban challenges but expressions of human resilience and ingenuity, honouring cultural identities and forming truly inclusive communities.
