Charles Correa Now

Buildings, like people, are born, live, age, and eventually fade away. They evolve in ways that architects may or may not have anticipated. Their transformations—subtle or dramatic—are shaped by time, use, and changing social contexts.

Charles Correa, often hailed as India’s greatest architect by the Royal Institute of British Architects, was a visionary who redefined modern Indian architecture. He won the Aga Khan Award for Architecture in 1998, and his influence remains unparalleled. Yet, while much has been written about his designs, little attention has been given to how his buildings have aged and transformed over time.

In "Charles Correa Now," I set out to explore this very question. Through a series of experiential photo essays, I documented Correa’s buildings as they exist today—not in the idealized perfection of architectural photography, but as lived-in, evolving spaces. Shot in a raw, documentary style, this project resists airbrushed portrayals of architecture, focusing instead on the human and material realities that shape these structures.

I visited ten of Correa’s buildings across India, selecting them based on their diverse functions, degrees of transformation, and geographic locations. My approach was simple yet layered: to see these spaces through the eyes of those who use them—residents, workers, caretakers, and visitors.

These photo essays also bear the imprint of the times we live in. At the Church of Our Lady of Salvation in Dadar (Mumbai), designed by Correa between 1974-77, I captured the stark image of an employee spraying disinfectant inside the nave—an unusual yet telling snapshot of how COVID-19 shaped the way we interact with built spaces. Similarly, at the Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel Stadium in Ahmedabad, officially closed to the public, I documented children playing under the stands and in the corridors—an unscripted yet organic use of architecture beyond its intended purpose.

Beyond the visuals, this project also involved a deep qualitative excavation—tracing objects, motifs, anecdotes, and personal histories that have unfolded within these buildings. I spoke with Nondita Correa Mehrotra, members of Correa’s design team, building owners, administrators, and long-time occupants, as well as his wife, the artist Monika Correa. I also accessed personal archives and correspondence, unraveling the thought processes that shaped these spaces.

Many of these interviews revealed the tensions between design intent and real-world maintenance. At Bharat Bhawan in Bhopal, I met Mr. Devilal Patidar, a long-time custodian of the space, who lamented, “It takes a lot of effort to keep these stones exposed.” His frustration stemmed from bureaucratic neglect and a lack of appreciation for the architectural details Correa so carefully designed.

At the Navrangpura Bus Terminal, I met Vijay, a young boy selling bird feed. He told me he was born at the terminal after his mother arrived there from her village—and, to this day, he still considers the bus stand his home. His story added yet another layer to how buildings evolve—not just through material changes but through the lives that unfold within them.

Through this project, I sought to capture not just Correa’s architecture, but the stories embedded in its walls, its surfaces, and the people who inhabit these spaces today. His buildings, like all great architecture, continue to breathe, adapt, and respond to the world around them.