Thirupurasundari Sevvel is an architect, planner, author, historian, and conservationist on a mission to revive stories and age-old techniques. Through her extensive and varied initiatives, she reiterates that heritage is not just about preserving monuments. It’s about reviving sustainable, community-rooted practices that have shaped everyday life. Snippets from an interview:
How did your journey into heritage conservation begin?
My training is in architecture and urban planning, but my interest naturally gravitated towards heritage because I’ve always been drawn to the stories embedded in buildings, public spaces, and communities. When I was in the UK for an exchange program, I visited Stratford-upon-Avon. Seeing how a small town could preserve its cultural identity while welcoming people from around the world deeply inspired me to explore heritage conservation. Later, working with pioneering conservation architect Kalpana moulded my understanding of how cities could be read not just through their skylines, but through their layered histories and lived experiences. Over time, I realised that conservation is not only about monuments but also about neighbourhood narratives, cultural practices, and everyday spaces that together shape identity.
Can you tell us about Nam Veedu Nam Oor Nam Kadhai and how it began?
Nam Veedu Nam Oor Nam Kadhai was founded in 2014 as a storytelling and documentation initiative. The idea came from my observation that while we often celebrate monuments, we rarely pause to listen to the stories embedded in the houses, streets, and neighbourhoods around us. Every family, every street corner has memories that shape the identity of a place - and these micro-histories together form the collective memory of a city. Through this initiative, we work with schools, colleges, and neighbourhood groups to nurture pride in local heritage in ways that are accessible and creative. Over the years, we’ve experimented with formats ranging from heritage walks and exhibitions to oral history documentation, storytelling sessions, and hands-on workshops. What excites me most is when participants, especially young people, see their own street or ancestral house in a new light, recognising it as part of the larger cultural fabric.
It’s also very collaborative. We’ve partnered with NGOs, community associations, and cultural bodies, so that the initiative is not just about documentation, but also about empowering people to become custodians of their own heritage. The goal is simple: to make heritage less intimidating, more participatory, and above all, rooted in lived experience.
Where do you see the major lapses in heritage conservation in India?
The lapses are both structural and attitudinal. Structurally, we lack robust policies, effective enforcement, and integration of heritage into broader urban planning. Heritage is often treated as an afterthought, rather than something that should be woven into the city’s growth and governance. Financial support is another gap. Conservation projects rarely receive the kind of sustained investment they require.
On an attitudinal level, conservation is frequently perceived as elitist or limited to iconic monuments. The everyday heritage of crafts, neighbourhoods, and ordinary buildings tends to be overlooked. This is worrying because these are often the spaces and practices most closely tied to people’s identities and cultural memory.
To bridge these gaps, we need stronger policy frameworks, inclusive planning, and, crucially, public awareness campaigns that make heritage feel relevant and accessible. When people see that heritage is not just about the past but about their own lived environment, it becomes everyone’s business. That shift in mindset is as important as any law or funding mechanism.
You have been closely associated with the Madras Literary Society. What has that experience been like?
The Madras Literary Society (MLS) has been a very special part of my journey in heritage. It is not just an architectural landmark with its 200-year-old library building and vast collection, but also a living cultural space that continues to adapt and stay relevant. My association with MLS has taken different forms - helping with documentation, curating programs, and advocating for its conservation.
What drew me in was the layered character of the place. On one hand, you have rare books, palm-leaf manuscripts, and colonial-era architecture. On the other, you see students, researchers, and neighbourhood residents who continue to use the space. That continuity of use makes MLS more than a static monument. It’s a dynamic cultural institution.
Working with MLS also taught me how heritage institutions can bridge the past and present. We experimented with exhibitions, walks, and cultural programming that opened the library up to new audiences, particularly young people who might otherwise have thought of it as inaccessible or ‘old-fashioned’.
The experience reaffirmed that conservation isn’t just about protecting bricks and mortar. It’s about enabling heritage spaces to breathe in contemporary contexts. MLS showed me how a historic institution, with the right care and community engagement, can remain both rooted in legacy and open to the future.
What are the challenges of heritage conservation, especially as a woman?
Heritage conservation is a rewarding yet demanding field. One of the biggest challenges is funding. Sustained financial support for projects is often limited, and many initiatives depend on a combination of grants, donations, or institutional backing. Another challenge is public awareness. Many people don’t always recognise the value of conserving heritage, or they see it as someone else’s responsibility. This makes community engagement essential, as we need to build a sense of shared ownership and pride without making participation feel intimidating.
As a woman in this field, there have been moments when my expertise was underestimated. Over time, I’ve learned to navigate these situations by demonstrating skill, persistence, and by cultivating collaborative networks. Despite these hurdles, the work is deeply fulfilling. Each project is an opportunity to educate, innovate, and create conservation practices that are inclusive, socially meaningful, and rooted in the lived experiences of communities.
Are there any lesser-known stories or traditional techniques in heritage that you find particularly fascinating?
Absolutely! There are countless stories and techniques that are often overlooked but hold immense value. For instance, traditional lime plastering methods, which are sometimes dismissed, are actually incredibly sustainable and durable. Similarly, community-led maintenance of temples, water tanks, and other civic structures reveals ingenious approaches to urban management that modern systems could learn from.
In my own work, I’ve documented traditional techniques such as the use of red oxides for flooring and surface finishes. These techniques are not only aesthetically striking but also highly functional, reflecting local knowledge and centuries-old craftsmanship. By recording these practices, we aim to preserve technical knowledge that is at risk of being lost and highlight its relevance for contemporary conservation.
Community engagement seems central to your work. How do you approach it?
Community engagement is at the heart of everything I do. For me, heritage is not something to be preserved ‘for’ people, but ‘with’ them. Through initiatives like Nam Veedu Nam Oor Nam Kadhai and projects under Studio Conclave, I work to make heritage accessible, participatory, and inclusive. A key part of this approach is democratising heritage, ensuring that conservation and cultural documentation are not limited to experts or elite institutions. For example, in one project with a local school, we conducted heritage walks where students mapped the history of their neighbourhood, documenting stories of old houses, markets, and temples. The students then created illustrated maps and short narratives, which were displayed in a public exhibition. This gave them a sense of ownership over the stories of their own streets and empowered them to value local memory.
In another project with a community association, we documented the use of traditional red oxide flooring and other vernacular techniques in residential homes. Residents were trained to observe and record these methods, effectively becoming co-conservators. This not only preserved technical knowledge but also fostered pride and intergenerational dialogue about local craftsmanship.
Through such initiatives, people begin to see their everyday surroundings—homes, streets, and community spaces—as part of the city’s heritage. By creating shared experiences around heritage, we foster collective responsibility, ensuring that preservation is rooted in lived realities rather than abstract ideals.
How do younger generations engage with heritage today?
I see a noticeable shift in how young people connect with heritage. Many are curious, eager, and inventive, whether through design, social media storytelling, or activism. The challenge is that attention spans are shorter, trends shift quickly, and not all sources of information are reliable. It’s essential to guide them toward verified, accurate narratives, helping them distinguish between authentic heritage knowledge and unverified or popularised versions.
In my experience, connecting meaningfully with youth requires hands-on, interactive experiences. For example, college students were invited to create a visual narrative of their neighbourhoods using photography and sketches. This allowed them to explore architecture and cultural practices creatively, while also learning documentation methods and how to verify sources. In another initiative, school children helped map community water tanks and temple maintenance practices, linking everyday civic spaces to local history. In both cases, mentoring them on accurate research and responsible storytelling was key.
These experiences show that when young people are given agency, the right guidance, and the tools to engage responsibly, they carry heritage forward in innovative and rooted ways. They become storytellers, documentarians, and advocates, bridging the past with contemporary perspectives.
What message would you give to women interested in heritage conservation?
From my observations on sites, whether in restoration projects or ongoing construction, women workers often face practical barriers: limited access to proper restrooms, uniforms that are not designed for comfort or safety, and social expectations that restrict their mobility. Many wear shirts over their traditional attire for practicality, but it also reflects the compromises women make to participate safely and effectively in a male-dominated environment.
These realities highlight the need for inclusive and supportive practices in the field—not just in leadership but at every level of engagement. My advice to women entering heritage conservation is to build interdisciplinary skills, cultivate patience, and focus on collaboration. Equally important is centring community voices and listening deeply to lived experiences, whether it’s the residents of a neighbourhood or the craftsmen and workers on a site.
Don’t be deterred by the niche perception of the field. Your perspective as a woman is valuable and necessary in shaping more inclusive narratives of heritage. By observing, questioning, and documenting both material and social aspects of heritage, women can drive practices that are more equitable, sustainable, and rooted in real-world conditions. Most importantly, trust in your expertise, persist through challenges, and recognise that your contribution helps broaden what heritage conservation truly means, beyond monuments, to the people, spaces, and communities that give it life.