Whenever I think of ancient structures, I am reminded of an enduring truth: civilisations are built not merely to inhabit a place, but to leave behind a memory. The structures are never just elements of construction, but expressions of identity and belonging through which societies carved their existence into time.

Across South Asia, the same architectural language once connected cities and towns. Carved wooden balconies, cast-iron railings, frescoes, khatamband ceilings, terracotta motifs, courtyards and graceful arches reflected centuries of shared craftsmanship shaped by Mughal, Rajput, Sikh, Dogra, European and British influences. This shared heritage is now disappearing quietly under concrete, neglect and changing urban landscapes.

A walk through the fading corridors of the Mubarak Mandi complex and the old neighbourhoods of Jammu only reinforce this feeling of loss.

For over three decades, heritage enthusiast and journalist Sunny Dua has documented nearly 500 heritage sites across Jammu, Kashmir and Ladakh and reported about it. Though Dua has managed to revive public interest in these neglected historic buildings, he feels the larger battle has already been lost.

“Every monsoon takes away another wall or fresco.” As we walk beneath the arches and courtyards of Mubarak Mandi, which served as the political and cultural heart of the Dogra kingdom and where decisions affecting territories from Jammu to Gilgit were once taken, decades of neglect is on display.

Today, restoration work is going on in the 12.5-acre complex, but only some fragments survive.

Walking through the remnants of Nawa Mahal, Gol Ghar, Rani Charaki Mahal, and various courtyards, one can spot Roman arches beside Rajputana facades; Mughal ornamentation blended with European Baroque and Victorian influences; Greek-inspired columns and intricate jharokhas.

Basohli artistic traditions and traditional Nanakshahi brickwork also coexisted within the same architectural landscape.

A surprising element was that many of the building materials used for decorative motifs, including pebbles and sand, were sourced from River Tawi.

“This architecture reflected ideas that travelled across regions and were adapted here over centuries,” says Dua. The shared archtecture represented not only remarkable engineering, but also a way of life rooted in local materials, skilled artisans and community living. Old Jammu still carries traces of that world.

As we approached Gol Ghar, one of the complex’s most distinctive structures, the scale of the loss was painfully clear. Rising above the banks of the Tawi, the five-storeyed circular building once displayed an extraordinary fusion of Roman symmetry, coliseums and Islamic architectural forms, held together by traditional Nanakshahi bricks and massive timber beams. Fires and the 2005 earthquake left it structurally fragile. Today, large parts remain inaccessible, and conservation experts fear that much of its original character can never truly be recovered.

The old Jammu city grew around Mubarak Mandi, its narrow lanes lined with deodi homes once occupied by courtiers, wazirs and officials of the Dogra court. Many of these buildings are barely standing. Their carved wooden doors, cast-iron balconies, jharokhas and terracotta detailing reveal an architectural language shaped by Persian, Mughal, Sikh, Rajput and European influences. They remind us that Jammu was once a place where artistic traditions met and evolved.

Yet, unlike the palace complex, these historic neighbourhoods have received little attention. Many homes have already been demolished or altered beyond recognition with concrete renovations. Others stand abandoned, collapsing with every passing monsoon. There is no comprehensive policy in place to conserve these, even though they form the living urban landscape that once gave Mubarak Mandi its context.

The ongoing restoration of the palace reflects this contradiction. While some façades are being repaired, some spaces are being adapted for new uses. Much of the complex remains inaccessible or too fragile to be fully restored. Gol Ghar, with its remarkable Roman-inspired arches and European influences, continues to stand as a poignant reminder of what has already been lost. Restoration can preserve surviving structures, but it cannot recreate the craftsmanship and materials that have already disappeared.

The palace also holds lesser-known stories that connect it to the wider architectural history of the subcontinent. Bhai Ram Singh Ramgarhia, the celebrated architect behind landmarks such as the Lahore Museum and parts of Khalsa College in Amritsar, designed one of the roofs of the Grey Halls within the Mubarak Mandi complex.

Dua has a practical suggestion: “Adopt 20 or 30 of these heritage homes and restore them.” His suggestion speaks to a larger South Asian inheritance that belongs to everyone. Across India, historic structures have found new life through adaptive reuse.

— The writer is a researcher

and columnist