The Fading Legacy of the Medi
The Fading Legacy of the Medi
In 2021, a journey home changed the way I looked at the land I come from.
I belong to Nalia, a town in Abdasa Taluka, Kutch. Like many who’ve left, I returned every now and then quick visits, short stays. But that year was different. Something shifted. With each trip, I began to notice a quiet disappearance. One by one, the Medis those grand, historic bungalows were vanishing.
Some were being sold. Others demolished. I learned that after the walls were brought down, the carved wooden windows, the age-old doors, the elegant furniture many over 150 years old were being sold off to antique dealers. What once stood as a proud reminder of a luxurious lifestyle and a prosperous past was being dismantled, bit by bit.
These weren’t just homes. These were testaments of legacy of a time when Kutch was alive with trade, agriculture, and shipping. The Medis spoke of families that had built their lives in this arid land, and succeeded. Ornate columns, Italian tiles, Belgian mirrors, intricate jaali work each element in these homes told a story of ambition, craftsmanship, and global connection.
But time hasn’t been kind. Many structures were damaged during the 2001 earthquake. Others have simply been abandoned left to decay under harsh sun and silence. And as families migrated for better livelihoods, these architectural gems were left without caretakers, their relevance fading with each passing year.
Still, some Medis survive. A few have been cared for, preserved by families who understand their worth not just in material value, but as pieces of a shared past. In villages across Abdasa, these bungalows still stand, whispering tales of how rich and vibrant life once was. And it’s not just Abdasa villages across the Kutch region hide similar forgotten gems, many just as grand, and just as fragile.
What happens when the last of them fall?
What will we show the next generation?
How will we explain the richness of Kutch without these spaces that once gave it form?
It is easy to dismiss these structures as old or inconvenient. But we must remember they are the last physical chapters of a remarkable story. To lose them is to lose a living heritage.
Preserving the Medis is not just about architecture.
It is about identity. About pride.
About remembering who we are, and where we come from.
Now is the time to act.
Before the last doors are shut.
Before the stories are sold piece by piece.
