More Than Windows:
The Jharokhas That Watched Over Kutch
More Than Windows:
The Jharokhas That Watched Over Kutch
There’s something quietly magical about looking at the world through a jharokha. It’s not just a window. It’s a frame of life, of royalty, of time itself.
On one of my early journeys through Kutch, what began as casual exploration soon became a fascination. It started with one a lone jharokha clinging to the weathered facade of Rani Vaas in Bhuj Darbargadh, dating back to the 16th century. Delicate wooden jalis still filter the light like lace, reminding us how even the practical act of looking out could once be turned into poetry.
But Rani Vaas was only the beginning.
As the months unfolded, the jharokhas kept appearing like echoes from another time. At Roha Fort, bold stone frames crowned the structure, gazing silently over the ruins. At Tera Fort, where walls still carry stories in fading murals, these ornate windows seemed to watch over the landscape like old sentinels.
But what exactly is a jharokha?
In simple terms, it’s a projected window typically semi-enclosed found in Indian architecture. But in reality, it’s so much more. A jharokha is where light and breeze enter. Where queens once observed life without being seen. Where artisans carved beauty into the bones of buildings.
These weren’t just architectural details. They were expressions of craftsmanship, of status, of how deeply art was woven into daily life.
And jharokhas weren’t limited to royal forts.
As we wandered through old towns and lesser-known villages, we began noticing them on merchant havelis, or what are locally called medis large mansions built during Kutch’s trading peak. Here too, jharokhas adorned upper floors, their lattices casting patterned shadows across once-grand rooms.
One of the most memorable examples was at Devpur Darbargadh.
The moment you enter, a row of exquisite jharokhas greets you each one unique, each one telling its own story. Today, the Devpur Darbargadh still stands with dignity, its royal family opening its doors to travellers. Staying there is like stepping into living history one where jharokhas still filter the same Kutch light they did a hundred years ago.
Another unexpected discovery came at Than Jagir, a site not often mentioned in guidebooks, but rich in architectural layers. There too, amidst cracked walls and faded grandeur, the jharokhas survived weathered, but standing.
And then there is Fateh Mohammad no Khordo in Bhuj one of the most exquisite private homes where heritage still breathes. The jharokhas here aren’t just structural; they are statements of elegance, thoughtfully carved and framed by the rich architectural vocabulary of Kutch. Walking through its spaces feels like entering a memory, one that’s still very much alive.
As we often say at H/O Kutch there’s far more to Kutch than the white Rann and embroidery.
These jharokhas are a quiet testament to that.
They remind us that beauty was not just reserved for palaces. It lived in carved windows, in homes, in silence and shadow. They reflect the artistic sensibility of a region that valued detail not for display, but as a way of life. And yet, many of these jharokhas are disappearing lost to time, neglect, or demolition. That’s why we believe it’s not just about seeing them it’s about saving them.
They are the eyes of Kutch’s past.
Let’s not shut them forever.
