‘Vestige of colonialism?’ Architect says India’s landmarks rise from stone, tears and sweat of its people

Architectural heritage conservation means caring for historic places so their cultural value survives. It includes research, protection, careful repair, appropriate adaptation and continued public use. The aim is not to freeze every building in time. It is to respect the structure’s materials, design, history and connection with communities.

Repair is narrower. It may fix a roof, wall or facade without asking what the building represents or how future changes should be managed. Lambah’s work shows the wider approach. At Mumbai’s Royal Opera House, restoration preserved ornate gilt interiors and the grand auditorium, while giving the building a new life as an actively used cultural space.

This matters because historic buildings face neglect, salt air and redevelopment. Conservation can extend their lives without removing their identity. It also brings together specialists, owners, communities, donors and public users. The result is not merely a sound old building, but a cultural asset that remains meaningful and useful.

Lambah has worked across a remarkably wide range of historic places. The article mentions ancient Buddhist caves, Islamic tombs, Hindu temples and Mumbai’s imperial-era Gateway of India. Her projects also include a 15th-century temple at Hampi, Amer Fort, Bodh Gaya, Chandigarh’s Le Corbusier buildings and Mumbai’s Victorian Gothic and Art Deco architecture.

Her reach is national rather than limited to one city. She has supported conservation plans for more than 20 world heritage sites. In Mumbai, she worked on the David Sassoon Library, Keneseth Eliyahoo Synagogue, Bandra railway station and Royal Opera House. She is also working on the Gateway of India.

The scale reflects both the variety of India’s built heritage and the gaps in protection. Lambah’s work crosses religions, periods, styles and regions. It also joins technical conservation with fundraising and community involvement. Her career shows that preserving heritage means caring for individual monuments and entire urban landscapes.

A building can have a colonial origin and still become part of the culture of the country where it stands. The Gateway of India was built under British rule, but it was shaped by Indian architectural traditions. After independence, generations of people also embraced it as Mumbai’s recognisable landmark.

Lambah describes such buildings as “as Indian as they get” because they were built from the stone, tears and sweat of Indians. This shifts attention from political ownership alone to materials, labour, local design influences, public memory and decades of use. The building’s meaning changed through time without erasing its colonial history.

That layered meaning makes conservation important. Rejecting every colonial-era structure could remove evidence of India’s complex past. Lambah says she must consider the entire palimpsest of 6,000 years of India’s built heritage. Her approach preserves difficult history rather than leaving inconvenient parts forgotten.

Mumbai’s historic buildings were left vulnerable because protection rules did not cover many of them. When Lambah arrived in 1995, hundreds stood outside government protection. Much colonial heritage was considered too young to be declared national monuments, so it did not qualify for central government support.

The problem was not only legal. Lambah says historical buildings were neither protected by government nor supported by local communities and owners with enough funds. City-wide listings and heritage regulations had developed only in the previous 30 years and remained limited to cities such as Mumbai, Delhi, Hyderabad and Kolkata. This left many buildings in a gap between importance and formal status.

That gap exposed them to decay and redevelopment. Mumbai’s salt air made conditions harder for Victorian Gothic and Art Deco buildings. Lambah’s response was to build wider conservation plans and partnerships. Her work shows that listing, regulation and funding must operate together if historic buildings are to survive.

Restoration can continue through partnerships when governments and owners cannot pay. The article identifies private donors, foundations and community groups as important sources of support. Conservation professionals help plan and manage the work, while communities contribute commitment, local knowledge and pressure to save places they use.

At Mumbai’s David Sassoon Library and Keneseth Eliyahoo Synagogue, Lambah brought these groups together after restoration had stalled for lack of funds. Her work at Bandra railway station also required conservation around trains and commuters. People using the station encouraged her, saying the work was being done for them.

This model makes restoration a shared responsibility rather than a government-only task. It can unlock money, expertise and public support. Yet it also reveals a weakness in the system: important buildings may depend on voluntary partnerships because formal protection and reliable funding remain limited. Expanding conservation education and stronger institutions could make that support more consistent.

When historic landmarks are restored and reused, a city keeps both its physical memory and a place for present-day life. Restoration can prevent demolition, slow decay and make heritage visible to people who live, work or travel nearby. Reuse also helps buildings remain connected to the public rather than becoming empty relics.

Mumbai’s Royal Opera House is a clear example. It once faced demolition, but its ornate gilt interiors and grand auditorium are now intact. Lambah says its life has been extended and it has become a cultural space actively used by people. At Bandra railway station, conservation happened while trains and commuters continued using the site.

These projects show how conservation can join history with daily urban life. They can strengthen public attachment and encourage people to support further work. The wider challenge remains serious, however. Development, neglect and environmental exposure continue to threaten Mumbai’s architectural fabric, so reuse must be matched by lasting care.

A cultural palimpsest is a place understood as a stack of historical layers. Each period leaves traces, meanings and structures that later generations inherit and reinterpret. Conservation therefore looks beyond one preferred era. It asks how different histories coexist in the same building, street or city.

The Gateway of India illustrates this idea. It is a colonial-era landmark, but Indian architectural traditions shaped it, Indian workers built it, and generations embraced it after independence. Removing it because it represents British rule would preserve one political judgment while erasing other parts of its history and public meaning.

Lambah says she must consider the entire palimpsest of 6,000 years of India’s built heritage. Her point is that inconvenient history cannot simply be left out. A layered approach encourages more honest preservation. It also helps cities understand that conservation is not praise for every past power, but care for the evidence and meanings inherited from the past.