What We Lost When We Lost the Veranda
How modern design quietly changed community life.
Posted May 21, 2026 | Reviewed by Margaret Foley
This post is written by Sarah Rezaei, Sr. Research Assistant, Department of Psychology, Monk Prayogshala, Mumbai, India, and Ar. Komal Chokshi, Design Consultant specialized in Neuro-architecture, Founder of Kolab Studios, Ahmedabad, India.
There is a particular quality of afternoon light that belongs only to a baramda (veranda). It catches the steam from a cup of chai, lands on a worn charpoy, and finds someone's grandmother watching the street from above, not for any reason, just to be present. A neighbour passes and slows. A few words are exchanged. These are not the kinds of moments that seem important, but over time, they become familiar. Someone notices when the chair is empty. Someone wonders where you were yesterday. And yet, something quietly essential is happening.
Such spaces regulate the nervous system in ways modern environments rarely do. Human beings are not designed for either total isolation or relentless stimulation; we function best within gentle gradients of social and sensory exposure. A baramda (veranda) creates precisely this condition. It allows someone to remain partially connected to the world without demanding full participation in it. From there, the mind absorbs passing sounds, shifting light, fragments of conversation, footsteps on the street, and the movement of ordinary life. Sociologists sometimes describe this as a form of low-intensity social belonging: the quiet reassurance that one exists within a living social fabric, even in moments of solitude. The veranda did not merely connect the house to the street architecturally; it connected the individual to the surrounding rhythm of community life emotionally and psychologically.
In dense traditional neighbourhoods, the veranda functioned almost like an external nervous system for the home. It extended awareness outward while pulling community inward. There, children learned familiarity before friendship . Elders maintained relevance simply by being visible. Even silence became communal. Contemporary urban environments, by contrast, often eliminate these intermediary conditions. We move abruptly from sealed private interiors to overstimulating public streets, with very little spatial gradation in between. And the brain experiences this as friction. Architects and urban designers have a term for these spaces: semi-public , or threshold spaces . These spaces perform subtle psychological work. A living room requires commitment. A street requires exposure. But a veranda occupies an in-between state. You are visible without being vulnerable.
What's remarkable is that cultures separated by oceans and centuries all arrived at this same design wisdom independently. As Paul Oliver's Encyclopedia of Vernacular Architecture of the World documents across hundreds of traditions, the in-between space is less a cultural quirk than a near-universal human instinct. In Japan, traditional homes often included the engawa , a wooden transitional edge between the house and the outdoors where people could sit, observe nature, or casually interact with passersby. In the Netherlands, the stoep functioned as a semi-public front step, a social stage where being visible meant being available. In the Arab world, the riad courtyard turned away from the street but opened inward toward shared domestic life. In India itself, pol houses in Ahmedabad and wada-style homes in Maharashtra incorporated otlas — raised platforms at the entrance where neighbours paused, vendors interacted, and residents participated in street life without fully stepping into it. In older North American neighbourhoods, front porches once served the same role; people sat outside in the evenings, greeting neighbours and existing visibly within the life of the street. These were not aesthetic accidents. They were social technologies, long intuited across cultures before they were theorised. Different societies independently discovered something modern urban life often forgets: Human beings need spaces that allow for gradual, low-pressure connection.
What Modern Design Did Instead
Modern design prioritized efficiency, privacy, and speed over shared social space. Streets became corridors for cars rather than places to linger, apartment buildings replaced front porches with sealed interiors, and daily life was reorganized around isolated, destination-based routines. In removing friction and unpredictability, modern design also removed many of the small, repeated interactions that once made community feel effortless.
Every design choice that removes the accidental encounter quietly impoverishes our social lives in ways we don't notice until the deficit has already accumulated. The US Surgeon General declared loneliness a public health crisis in 2023. These are not just purely the consequences of some abstract cultural shift. The design of our built environment is a contributing factor, one that has received far less attention than it deserves. The irony of modern urban life is that people can be surrounded by others and still feel profoundly alone. Research on loneliness increasingly suggests that well-being is shaped not only by close relationships, but also by what sociologist Mark Granovetter called weak ties : casual social connections with neighbours, shopkeepers, familiar strangers, and acquaintances. These relationships may seem trivial, but they create a sense of embeddedness in the social world. They reassure us, often unconsciously, that we are seen, recognized, and part of a shared environment. Every design choice that removes the accidental encounter impoverishes our social lives in ways we don't notice until the deficit has already accumulated.
What Would We Build if We Built for Belonging?
What would architecture look like if the goal were not merely maximizing square footage, traffic flow, or real-estate value, but human connection? The good news: Some of us are already asking this question. We are designing neighbourhoods with shared courtyards instead of isolated units, walkable streets instead of car-dominated grids, and public spaces that invite lingering rather than simply moving people through as efficiently as possible. These projects recognize that social interaction is not a by-product of good design, but something design itself can actively cultivate. Small choices matter: a bench positioned to encourage conversation, a front porch facing the street, a balcony that is not just for planters but to stand or sit and have an actual contact with the outside world. Such mixed-use spaces are where daily errands naturally overlap with community life. None of these elements force connection, but they create the conditions in which connection becomes more likely. In this sense, architecture is never socially neutral. The spaces we inhabit quietly shape how often we encounter one another, how comfortable we feel engaging, and whether community emerges organically or slowly disappears behind walls, doors, and screens.
Perhaps what disappeared with the veranda was also a different relationship with time itself. Verandas invited slowness. They legitimized pauses that did not need to be productive, social interactions that had no agenda, and moments of observation without distraction. In many ways, they resisted the modern pressure to optimize every corner of life. And these spaces need not be open-air to do this work. A well-designed interior threshold, like a wide corridor with seating, a communal kitchen, or a window alcove, can create the same gradient of presence without demand. Today, our environments increasingly push us toward efficiency, privacy, and constant movement, leaving little room for the unstructured stillness where reflection, familiarity, and spontaneous connection once quietly grew. Reimagining such spaces may therefore not only help rebuild the community but also restore a healthier rhythm of living.
Marchant, G., Guillet-Descas, E., & Heutte, N. (2025). Sense of belonging and its positive association with physical activity levels and negative association with sedentary behaviors in residential aged care facilities in COVID-19 pandemic: a longitudinal study. Frontiers in Psychology , 16 , 1529463. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2025.1529463
Miami Ironside. (2025, December 17). From Stress to Stillness: How environments regulate the nervous system. Iron Side . https://www.miamiironside.com/blogmis/2025/10/4/why-build-new-when-the-…
Syed Faizan Raza Rizvi [@telephonepyar]. (2026, January 27). Buffer Baramda [Reel]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/DT-i3D4DGrm/
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