Project |
TLRF Project |
Location |
Karjat, Maharashtra |
You don’t arrive here.
You descend into it—
Past the hum of highways, into a dirt path flanked by fruiting trees and wildflowers. The gate barely whispers your arrival. A stone path winds into a quiet world, revealing itself gently—like a memory being remembered, not discovered.
The first to greet you is not a building.
It’s a garden.
Butterflies flit through lemongrass and lavender, birds dart between chikoo and guava trees. You follow the fragrance, not the path.
Only then does the architecture reveal itself. Almost shyly. Keep walking.
The land opens up to a curved spine of stone— Two premium abodes, built for long, lingering mornings. The bed faces east, where sunlight rises to kiss you awake. A large arched window frames the Bhimashankar hills like a painting that breathes. The bathrooms? Part garden, part ritual—oxide-finished showers, seating nooks, and plants that don’t just decorate, they live with you.
You step through a narrow entry flanked by a solid stone wall, the Social Space. Beside a sculptural conical tower balancing the building’s horizontality like a punctuation mark in a long sentence. This tower, stores water for half the property. Before one enters, the view is hidden. But one more step in— And the entire world expands.
A swimming pool glistens below, reflecting the filtered sunlight onto the curved ceiling. Beyond it, the Borgaon forest stretches into the horizon. Sunset lives here and so do you when you relax in the fire pit beyond the swimming pool overlooking the flowing stream below.
This space isn’t one room. It’s a slope of experiences— The living space at one level, the dining carved into the contours below.
Beyond the Social Space, pathways scatter gently into the land.
And then—
The land dips, steps widen, and you reach the amphitheatre.
It’s built into the slope, not on top of it.
You don’t just sit here—you sink in.
At sunset, the forest performs—light, breeze, silence, and sometimes a memory waiting to be made.
Throughout, materials remain honest. Stone holds the social space like an anchor. Red brick and lime plaster wrap the cottages, soft to touch, warm in rain. No material shouts for attention. They whisper in harmony.