Translating the Modern: A Walk Around Santiniketan

Tagore’s core architectural principle was a radical communion with the environment which appealed to both his Indian and global artist-collaborators. Alongside his son, designer and landscape artist Rathindranath, the poet’s Visva Bharati as a ‘tangible poem’ was given shape by figures like Nandalal Bose and Ramkinkar Baij, while the self-taught architect Surendranath Kar translated his philosophy into built form. They were joined by international contributors like Japanese wood sculptor Kintaro Kasahara, along with lesser-known artists and artisans like Pratima Devi, Gouri Bhanja, Vamana Rao, Narasinghlal, and Vinayak Masoji, among others.

The team’s vision began with conceiving small-scale structures that resonated with the expansive horizons and laterite terrains of Rarh Bengal, integrating diverse architectural forms seamlessly into their natural surroundings. The minimalist approach towards built classrooms was not merely an aesthetic decision but a radical rethinking of the colonial and authoritarian models of education.

In rejecting the monolithic and alien vocabulary of imperial design, Tagore articulated a critique of hegemonic Western modernity through the plural aesthetics of Santiniketan. The outcome was a syncretic architectural language—an innovative, modern yet Pan-Asian idiom grounded in the material and visual cultures of the East.

The quiet profundity of these modest spaces lies in their intentional design and lived purpose. Among the imaginatively conceived sitting arcades, arched wells, and intimate Sukho-poth (pleasure paths) for community residents stands a notable example: Dinantika, an octagonal, two-storied structure designed by Surendranath Kar. Adorned with frescoes by Nandalal Bose and his students, it was conceived as a space for evening gatherings over tea. Within this atmosphere, where conscious creative collaboration shaped the cadence of daily life, the building’s circular seating embodies an architectural expression of shared dialogue and egalitarian exchange.

Encircled by these smaller structures stands the imposing Singha Sadan (1928), flanked by the Purba and Paschim Toranas and later complemented with gazebos to accommodate an expanding number of students and classes. While its interior served as a sports room, the principal façade and arched gateways reflect the architectural idiom of the Atala Devi Mosque of Jaunpur, Uttar Pradesh. Opposite it, the old library building, with its open, south-facing veranda, is richly adorned with Jaipur-style frescoes depicting scenes of Ashrama life and the surrounding village. These murals, executed by Nandalal Bose and his students, represent some of the earliest examples of painted surfaces within the Santiniketan precincts.

To the West of Singha Sadan, the road takes one to the precincts of Kala Bhavana and Sangeet Bhavana. Standing as a sentinel at this creative crossroads is the Kalo-Bari – a quintessential example of Santiniketan's material experimentation. Its striking black exterior is coated with a mixture of tar, manganese, and albumen (egg white), and its walls are adorned with Bharhut, Mamallapuram, Harappan, Assyrian and Egyptian folk and archaeology-inspired bas-reliefs created by students under the guidance of Ramkinkar Baij and Prabhas Sen, among others.

The campus is a living open-air gallery, dotted with murals from different phases of its history by artists including Somnath Hore, Benode Behari Mukherjee, K.G. Subramanyan, Rudrappa Hanji, and Radhacharan Bagchi, while the great monumental sculptures of Ramkinkar root the entire experience in a powerful, three-dimensional presence. Architecturally, Kala Bhavana evolved by constructing newer spaces and studios, according to the needs of teachers and students.

Dinakar Kowshik recalls how the architecture of Nandan was designed to harness natural light through a large glass facade, eliminating the need for artificial illumination during the day. The building, which now houses the Kala Bhavana library, archives, galleries, and museum, draws inspiration from South Indian temple architecture. Its spatial rhythm is defined by a progression of verandas that facilitate cross-ventilation and lead into the horizontally aligned halls. More than a static museum, this is a living campus where the legacy of its founders is continually reinterpreted, and artistic practice unfolds each day within the very spaces that once nurtured their creativity.

Architectural historian Saptarshi Sanyal observes that Tagore’s evocative Bengali names for these spaces embody both his philosophical vision and the intrinsic nature of their design. The term Dehali combines deha (body) and ālɔy (shelter), aptly reflecting the school’s humble, formative years. Natun Bari (New House) served as the poet’s retreat during his most fertile creative phase. It was in the upper room of this dwelling, open to an infinite horizon, that Tagore composed and translated Gitanjali, the work that would bring him the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913.

Walking back towards Santiniketan Griha, one encounters the Uttarayan complex across the road—a demarcation that did not exist when these buildings were conceived. This cluster of five residences, designed primarily by Surendranath Kar in collaboration with Rathindranath Tagore, Nandalal Bose, and Kintaro Kasahara between 1919 and 1938, housed the poet, his peers, and guests, representing the pinnacle of Santiniketan's architectural eclecticism.

The first of these, the single-story Konarka (Slanting ray of sun, 1918), was designed to capture the early sun's slanting rays, has its main living space opens onto a long, east-facing veranda. This projected veranda functioned as the home's primary entrance, a deliberate departure from conventional architectural layouts.

The following residence, Udayan (‘The Dawning,’ 1928) was the most elaborate of the Uttarayan residences, taking nearly a decade to realise. Its architectural vision drew deeply from the austerity of Buddhist vihara colonnades, the intricate jharokha motifs of Gujarati havelis, the refined timber panelling characteristic of Japanese design, and subtle echoes of Angkor Wat’s wooden railings. What makes Udayan exceptional is its deft superimposition of these eclectic influences over several levels, maintaining both spatial coherence and aesthetic equilibrium. The resulting residence embodies a collaborative modernism that asserted an Indian architectural identity, distinct from and resistant to homogenous Western paradigms.