Golpo Griho: A prose written in memories and concrete

When you walk through the winding lanes of Maijdee, you might not immediately notice Golpo Griho. It does not rise above its surroundings or demand attention through form or scale. Instead, it seems to breathe with the land — a home that listens more than it speaks. 

You hear the rustle of old trees, the sound of fish splashing in the ponds, and the laughter of neighbours gathering on a quiet Friday afternoon.

This is Golpo Griho — literally 'The Story House' — a residence that tells a tale of inheritance, memory and generosity. Designed by Induscon Architects, led by Architect Syed Mahmud Hossain, it is a project that began not from ambition but from longing — the longing of one man to rebuild a connection with his past before time could take it away.

A legacy carried on

The story begins with Dr Abdul Hai, a physician whose life has been as much about giving as it has been about healing. The land on which Golpo Griho stands came to him through paternal inheritance — one fragment of a vast ancestral estate that he gradually donated to public causes, including the Noakhali Medical Hospital. What remained was this 20-bigha site, dotted with two generous ponds and trees older than memory.

Inside, the double-height living room embodies the homeowners’ lifelong desire for a warm, memory-laden space with no barriers between inside and out.

Once, an all-wooden house stood here — built by Dr Hai's father, and home to his childhood. When the structure eventually decayed beyond repair, he was reluctant to replace it. 

For years, he lived in a temporary shed on the site's edge, quietly holding onto the past. "Since he had torn down the building his father built," recalls Architect Syed Mahmud Hossain, "he felt something meaningful must rise in its place."

That sense of loss and continuity would become the foundation of Golpo Griho. The architect remembers, "He was clear that this should not be just a house. It had to hold memory, emotion and the generosity that defined his family."

From that emotion emerged a radical idea — a home without boundaries. The client insisted the new building must never turn its back to the community. There would be no walls, no fences, and no private ponds. The ponds, in fact, were to remain open to the neighbourhood. Every Friday and Saturday, locals are invited to fish there — "free of cost," says the architect. "Some sell their catch; others take it home. It's part of the land's story.

Floor-to-ceiling windows in the dining area frame the surrounding greenery, turning daily meals into a quiet communion with nature.

"Our challenge," Hossain explains, "was to create a home that didn't separate itself from its surroundings. Within such a large area, the building should not act as a barrier. The land itself was the architecture."

When Induscon Architects began work, nearly 70–80% of the site's greenery was intact. The design process became an act of careful preservation. Every mature tree was mapped and kept. "Some of those trees were older than me," Hossain laughs, "so we designed around them — not over them." The result is a landscape that feels both cultivated and untamed, "a negotiation between man-made garden and uncontrolled nature."

The materiality of memory

Golpo Griho was designed with an almost meditative simplicity. Its traditional column-beam frame, exposed brick walls, and matt grey tile floors were chosen not to impress but to disappear — to let nature and life take centre stage.

Visitors are encouraged to begin with a slow walk through the gardens and ponds before reaching the outdoor foyer — built directly over the foundations of the old wooden house.

For Dr Hai, whose childhood home was made of wood and bamboo, the architects introduced timber floors and decks as gentle echoes of the past. "He wanted to feel that ambience again," Hossain says. "So the wood isn't just a material; it's a memory."

Even small, intimate details tell stories: the armchair once belonging to his father, reimagined from the client's own sketches; the clay crane sculpture he made himself; the coconut tree shelter built to safely catch falling coconuts without harming passersby. "Every single thing," the architect notes, "was done to reflect what he used to do in his childhood."

'No front, no back — only a continuous journey'  

There is no front door to Golpo Griho — no prescribed way to enter or leave. "There is no clear way to experience it," reads the project note. "There's no front, no back — only a continuous journey."

Visitors are encouraged to begin with a slow walk through the gardens and ponds, taking in the timber kiosk and duck pond, before reaching the outdoor foyer — built directly over the foundations of the old wooden house. 

This space, shaded and open, serves as both Kachari Ghor and memory anchor — "a singular point of connectivity" that visually links the home to the ancestral neighbourhood beyond.

Inside, light moves through double-height living spaces, bridges, and corridors that dissolve the edge between indoors and out. The outdoor dining deck by the west pond is a place of gathering — where families come to fish, children play, and neighbours still meet, just as they did in the old days.

Golpo Griho is not a typical residence; it is a living framework that binds landscape, memory, and community into a single spatial experience. Every frame opens outward, every threshold invites the sky in. The interiors are not decorated but experienced — continuing the rhythms of the land rather than competing with them.

"The material palette doesn't try to impress," the project notes say. "It serves as a backdrop, highlighting the rituals, gatherings, and memories that unfold within the home."

In the end, Golpo Griho is not simply a building, but a home that gives form to gratitude. It honours a father's memory, a doctor's generosity, and a community's shared life.

As Syed Mahmud Hossain reflects, "This project is not just architecture; it's a living memory woven into the land."

This open foyer functions as:

• a Kachari Ghor (informal meeting space),
• a memory anchor,
• and a spatial hinge that ties together past and present.

From here, the house unfolds.

Double-height living spaces- Natural light pours in from clerestory windows. Cross-ventilation reduces heat buildup. Views frame the landscape like living paintings.

Bridged corridors- Floating walkways link private and public spaces, maintaining a sense of openness.

Outdoor dining deck- Extending over the west pond, it serves as a gathering place where families come to fish, neighbours drop by, and children play.

Blurred thresholds- Sliding glass panels, verandas, and overhangs dissolve the boundary between inside and outside, making the house feel expansive but not imposing.

Climate responsiveness

The building's design is naturally suited to Bangladesh's climatic conditions. Features include:

• Deep verandas and overhangs for shading
   
• Cross-ventilated rooms that reduce reliance on mechanical cooling
   
• Pond-side decks and breezeways that leverage evaporative cooling
   
• Large openings that allow light but limit heat through orientation
   
• Vegetation buffers that filter dust and sound