Around Town: Dadar Deco

Join us to explore one of the oldest Mumbai neighbourhoods

26 Jul 2025

An out-of-order medical cross blinking at random intervals. Loose polythene wrappers stuck on cast iron grills. Last night’s laundry hung out to dry. This was a facade like no other. But if you squint past these details, it was clear as day. We had struck gold. Art Deco, in Dadar. How did I never notice it?

It’s true that you know the least about your own neighbourhood. And in mine, it is far too easy to let the noise overwhelm you. Like most newly minted Mumbai residents, I too was under the impression that the 1920s architectural movement was only confined around the Oval Maidan. How did it travel across the islands and wind up in the chaotic bylanes around Shivaji Park? As we walked around, the story took unexpected turns.

"While some of us call this tree-lined neighbourhood home, with its hubbub and character, it becomes pertinent to ask if architecture, only of a certain aesthetic appeal, deserves to be cherished?"

SHORE TO SUBURBS

It’s not hard to connect the dots. The swankier Art Deco style that had just landed on the shores of Mumbai had taken the city by storm. Rejecting the colonial architecture and embracing the Swaraj movement, a new age called for a new style. When the 1896 plague hit the city, the Bombay City Improvement Trust (BCIT) was formed to alleviate the disease through changing the way people lived. Areas around Shivaji Park were developed to be three-storey concrete structures (a material gaining popularity) with a balcony along with a living room, a bedroom or two, a kitchen, a bathroom and a toilet. This was one of the first instances of Indian architects designing apartments for the Indian patron.

Still from Nikhil Rao's House, but no Garden

INDO DECO

One of the defining differences between the two movements is the elements and the scale. In Dadar, you will not be surprised to find Devanagri lettering on signage or a fish concrete jaali. Floral motifs, swastika, a riot of colours — all find their way into what architect Nikhil Mashur describes as “Indo Deco”.

But strangely, as the park which led to the formation of this open neighbourhood is recognised by UNESCO, the buildings around it quickly fall into disrepair. The modest scale and the appropriation often lead to the architecture reading as a backdrop. Interestingly, many residents protested against the buildings receiving a heritage status in an effort to not stop development. Yet these structures remain, standing the test of time. Is absolute protection and preservation the only way to go when caring for the past? Is the alternative only dilapidation? Why is one half of our architectural legacy praised and the other ignored? While some of us call this tree-lined neighbourhood home, with its hubbub and character, it becomes pertinent to ask if architecture, only of a certain aesthetic appeal, deserves to be cherished?