India’s Historic Haveli Homes Caught Between Revival and Ruin

 This photograph taken on February 2, 2026 shows a hospitality staff arranging tableware at the Dharampura Haveli, an 18th-century haveli-turned-heritage hotel in the old quarters of Delhi. (AFP)
This photograph taken on February 2, 2026 shows a hospitality staff arranging tableware at the Dharampura Haveli, an 18th-century haveli-turned-heritage hotel in the old quarters of Delhi. (AFP)
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India’s Historic Haveli Homes Caught Between Revival and Ruin

 This photograph taken on February 2, 2026 shows a hospitality staff arranging tableware at the Dharampura Haveli, an 18th-century haveli-turned-heritage hotel in the old quarters of Delhi. (AFP)
This photograph taken on February 2, 2026 shows a hospitality staff arranging tableware at the Dharampura Haveli, an 18th-century haveli-turned-heritage hotel in the old quarters of Delhi. (AFP)

Once the grand residences of Mughal-era nobility, the Indian capital's haveli homes now stand at a fragile crossroads -- a handful lovingly restored but many more sliding quietly into ruin.

Across Old Delhi -- the 17th century walled city founded as the Mughal capital Shahjahanabad -- cracked facades, shuttered gateways and sagging balconies tell the story of a heritage under siege from neglect, inheritance battles and relentless urban pressure.

Only a few restored pockets provide a glimpse of what once was -- airy courtyards, carved sandstone pillars and homes built around a deeply social way of life.

Inside one restored mansion that now houses a cultural center, sunlight filters through stained glass onto carved sandstone arches, the air infused with freshly polished wood and rosewater.

Musicians tune their instruments in a frescoed courtyard, where nobles may once have entertained guests, offering a rare peek into Old Delhi's rich architectural past.

But outside in the narrow lanes of Old Delhi's Chandni Chowk district, the contrast is stark.

Many havelis are abandoned or on the verge of collapsing, their carved facades fading beneath peeling paint.

The contrast reflects two futures -- one of careful restoration and the other of gradual decay.

- 'Who will pay?' -

The Kathika Cultural Centre's founder Atul Khanna said his initiative hoped to create an immersive cultural space inside a restored structure.

But he admitted that conservation in Old Delhi remains a huge challenge.

Many havelis are split among multiple heirs, with no single stakeholder willing or able to invest in costly upkeep.

"When there are multiple ownerships, that becomes a challenge," he said.

"If the haveli is decaying, who is going to spend the money?"

Khanna also blamed bureaucratic hurdles for discouraging restoration.

"There should be some kind of a single window for anyone who is working with heritage," he said, arguing that easing red tape would be more effective than offering subsidies for restoration.

Another prominent restoration is the 18th century Haveli Dharampura, now converted into a heritage hotel.

"Restoration in Old Delhi is still isolated unless there is sustained support and awareness," said Vidyun Goel, whose family owns the property.

Residents say family disputes and the push to convert properties into shops or apartments have led to rapid decline.

In nearby Roshanpura, only a scattering of old homes still stand. Among them, the century-old Mathur ki Haveli is a rare example of a lived-in heritage home.

- Showpiece projects -

"We are in love with this house," said Ashok Mathur, a fourth-generation resident who continues to live in the ancestral property despite mounting challenges.

Wooden ceilings are deteriorating, floors are wearing thin and doors require constant repair, he said, walking through rooms that bear only traces of intricate craftsmanship.

Still, he said he has never considered leaving -- although he can only imagine the social world that once defined haveli life.

"There is no community left," Mathur, 56, said. "We are living in a cocoon."

Conservationist K. T. Ravindran said that while Old Delhi is economically vibrant, its havelis suffer from unclear titles and multiple claimants.

"Often buildings that look intact from outside conceal deeper damage," he said, noting that the condition was worse in the inner lanes hidden from public view.

Ravindran said revival was still possible, but only through neighborhood-level regeneration rather than isolated showpiece projects.

Oral historian Sohail Hashmi said each haveli once formed part of "a larger social ecosystem of neighborhoods, crafts and traditions", with architecture and community deeply intertwined.

As Khanna put it, the loss goes beyond architecture.

"When you lose a haveli, you are not only losing the structure," he said.

"Every element in it is a piece of art."



Istanbul Cymbals: From Ottoman Weapon of War to Pulse of Global Music

A worker hammers a cymbal at a workshop in Istanbul on July 30, 2026. (AFP)
A worker hammers a cymbal at a workshop in Istanbul on July 30, 2026. (AFP)
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Istanbul Cymbals: From Ottoman Weapon of War to Pulse of Global Music

A worker hammers a cymbal at a workshop in Istanbul on July 30, 2026. (AFP)
A worker hammers a cymbal at a workshop in Istanbul on July 30, 2026. (AFP)

The rhythmic clanging of hammers on bronze echoes through the Istanbul workshop where three craftsmen are landing blows with astonishing precision to transform featureless metal discs into highly prized handcrafted cymbals.

First used by Ottoman military "mehter" bands to frighten and demoralize the enemy, cymbals were a useful tool for an empire on the warpath.

But it would take the skill of a 17th-century Armenian alchemist called Avedis Zildjian to transform them into a percussion instrument whose exotic sound would first captivate Europe's classical composers and then shape the world of jazz.

Although cymbals existed long before Zildjian, he developed a unique alloy and special process for treating the metals that made them less fragile, winning plaudits in 1623 from the Ottoman sultan who let him set up a workshop.

"It's really hard to make good cymbals because they're consistently being crashed, so to make something that wasn't brittle which could withstand continuous use is quite an achievement," said ethnomusicologist Audrey Wozniak, who specializes in Turkish musical traditions.

The secret was passed down through the generations and although the original Zildjian operation left Istanbul for America in the dying days of the Ottoman Empire, others who learned from the Zildjian masters have continued the tradition.

Today, Istanbul remains the center of excellence for cymbals, where a handful of brands still produce hand-hammered bronze using techniques developed more than 400 years ago.

- 'A cymbal's soul' -

"We are producing 100-percent handmade cymbals with traditional methods, without using electricity or gas, only coal and wood," said Mehmet Ozturk, sales rep at Bosphorus Cymbals on Istanbul's northern outskirts, who said casting a cymbal takes up to a week.

First is the casting stage. Most cymbals are made of a copper and tin alloy that is melted into molten bronze which is poured into molds and cooled into disc-shaped blanks.

Moving swiftly, a worker using a long-handled peel places the blanks into the glowing furnace then removes others that are put through a rolling mill in a cycle repeated up to 15 times to compress and spread the metal which is then water tempered.

"Every stage is crucial," said master cymbalsmith Hasan Seker, a burly 56-year-old who co-founded Bosphorus Cymbals in 1996 and was sweating after hauling glowing blanks into and out of the furnace.

"We use copper and tin and one more ingredient which is secret. Even though it's in very small quantities, it gives the cymbal a different character in terms of consistency and sound," he told AFP.

After punching out the raised bell and cutting it to size, what looks like the now recognizable cymbal must undergo the all-important hammering process.

"Not a single blow is random," he said as a trio of craftsmen and their expert struck the cymbals to create the darker, more complex tones so prized by jazz drummers.

This is where a man's emotional state is poured into his work, said Seker, who began working in the trade aged 12 as a summer job.

"When someone is hammering, he might hit softly, then something comes to mind, he gets angry and hits harder. Those variations in the metal's surface, the reservations, the tension patterns diversify the sound. In a way, he gives the cymbal its soul."

Over the years, Seker has met countless grateful musicians, some of whom come on "a pilgrimage" to the workshop whose grubby walls are lined with ageing posters of jazz drummers like Jeff Hamilton, Stanton Moore and Ari Hoenig.

- 'Every one is different' -

Inside Nardis Jazz Club, a dimly lit venue with an intimate feel in the shadow of Istanbul's Galata Tower, a jazz trio is rehearsing ahead of an evening show with a singer.

For drummer Derin Bayhan, he would only ever use Istanbul-made cymbals because they're "100 percent handmade" and each one has a unique sound.

"Even if you bought two from the same series, the same weight and structure, the two cymbals wouldn't perfectly match. Because it's handmade, it's basically an adventure," the 42-year-old told AFP.

"So you search for one and when you find it, no one else will have it: that sound is yours."

As to why the Istanbul tradition remains so popular among jazz musicians despite the Zildjian family's move to America where they set up a factory, jazz historian Berk Ozler said it was the search for uniqueness.

"Mass production started when Zildjian went to the USA whereas the ones that stayed in Istanbul were handcrafted and still are. Jazz musicians chase after that uniqueness so that's why they are very valuable."


Saudi Heritage Commission Expands National Urban Heritage Register with 9,586 New Sites

The Saudi Heritage Commission logo
The Saudi Heritage Commission logo
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Saudi Heritage Commission Expands National Urban Heritage Register with 9,586 New Sites

The Saudi Heritage Commission logo
The Saudi Heritage Commission logo

The Heritage Commission announced the registration of 9,586 urban heritage sites in the National Urban Heritage Register in two consecutive phases.

 

The first phase included 3,000 sites, followed by an additional 6,586, bringing the total number of registered sites across Saudi Arabia’s regions to 59,586, SPA reported.

The registered sites in the two phases were distributed across several Saudi regions, including 169 sites in Riyadh Region, 1,755 in Makkah Region, 23 in Madinah Region, 13 in Qassim Region, 19 in Eastern Region, 4,363 in Aseer Region, two in Tabuk Region, 21 in Hail Region, one in Northern Borders Region, 673 in Najran Region, and 2,547 in Al-Baha Region.

The Heritage Commission urged citizens and residents to report unregistered urban heritage sites or any practices that may compromise their integrity through the archaeological report service, the commission’s official social media channels, by visiting one of its branches or offices across the Kingdom, or by contacting the Unified Security Operations Center at 911.


Red Sea Museum Transforms Learning into Experiences of Discovery and Creativity

The program’s educational dimension extends to archaeology, the environment, and the protection of underwater cultural heritage - SPA
The program’s educational dimension extends to archaeology, the environment, and the protection of underwater cultural heritage - SPA
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Red Sea Museum Transforms Learning into Experiences of Discovery and Creativity

The program’s educational dimension extends to archaeology, the environment, and the protection of underwater cultural heritage - SPA
The program’s educational dimension extends to archaeology, the environment, and the protection of underwater cultural heritage - SPA

The Red Sea Museum in Historic Jeddah takes visitors on a journey this August that goes beyond viewing its collections to engaging with the Red Sea as a space for discovery and learning.

The program offers a range of activities that take visitors from the screen to the depths of the sea. As part of the Sea Cinema program, the museum hosted a screening of Finding Nemo on August 7, offering a cinematic experience that evoked the wonder of the ocean and its adventures, SPA reported.

The program’s educational dimension extends to archaeology, the environment, and the protection of underwater cultural heritage through a panel discussion on August 15, addressing the relationship between preserving archaeological evidence and protecting the marine environment.

Moreover, the museum offers children a dedicated space for creativity through the “From Waste to Wonder” workshop, which encourages them to transform used items into new ideas and experiences.

The Red Sea Lab stands out as one of the key experiences in the August program, turning the museum into an interactive laboratory for children aged 10 to 14 from August 25 to 29.

The program brings together science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM), allowing participants to explore the Red Sea from a scientific perspective, from its geological formation and biodiversity to coral reefs, ocean chemistry, and water quality, as well as exploration, mapping, and environmental conservation technologies.

The August program coincides with the final days of the “Sunken Treasures: The Maritime Heritage of the Red Sea” exhibition, which runs through August 15.