Built-Up and the Nostalgic attachment to off-route places

Newly built places shimmer with hope and the promise of tomorrow, while those untouched by recent change seem frozen in time, echoing a sense of stillness. These stagnant spaces stir a deep nostalgia, serving as living relics of a vanished era and a fading culture that now survives in quieter, more resourceful ways. This photo essay journeys along the old Mandi-Bilaspur highway (National Highway 205), seeking to capture the wistful memories that linger along its path through an artistic lens. Once alive with movement and noise, this stretch has grown silent and neglected since the opening of the Kiratpur-Manali Four-Lane Highway Project (NH-21/new NH-3). Through an artistic lens, the essay documents how certain places along this route awaken a longing for the region’s past and the traditions that once thrived here.

In recent years, this stretch of highway has faded from its former glory, its significance quietly slipping away as traffic found new paths. Where travellers and tourists once bustled, a hush now lingers. Vendors recall days filled with laughter and sales, now replaced by long hours and empty stalls. Tourists speed along the four-lane, bypassing the old route. Buses no longer pause, and private cars glide past without a second glance. Ghagas, Barmana, Harabag, and Kangoo, once lively stops, now face steep commercial decline. The scene is one of gentle retreat, life ebbing away. Shopkeepers lament dwindling crowds and vanishing customers. The town has slipped off the map, no longer a natural stop for anyone. Residents describe a sense of isolation, as if the world has moved on without them. The real issue is not the road, but the lack of effort to keep Bilaspur connected after the traffic shifted. With fewer people around, the old route feels exposed, its vulnerability growing. Thefts and vandalism have crept in. What was once a vibrant social hub now stands deserted and bare.

Such places offer little promise for the future, nor do they spark much excitement. They linger mostly in memory, cherished for their nostalgia but left behind by the rush of speed, mobility, and constant connectivity. The old road now sits in silence, its emptiness echoing the passage of time. In modern India, rapid development has swept through communities faster than people can truly absorb. The scale of these changes is immense, reshaping lives in both visible and hidden ways. For every place drawn into the current of progress, another is left adrift. Some towns are plugged into the networks of modernity, while others are quietly erased from the map.

Once, the old highway from Swarghat to Ghaghas bustled with hundreds of dhabas and roadside hotels, each a lively stop for travelers. Now, their absence tells the story of a community upended by the new bypass. The old family-run food joint, once fragrant with simmering dal, now sells just a fraction of what it did before the four-lane road. Where they once sold 20 to 22 kilograms daily, today only 4 to 5 kilograms find buyers, mostly from the few local buses that still pass by. Dhaba owners sum up their distress by stating: “Hotels ka kaam zero ho gaya hai… koi rukta hi nahi.” (The hotel business has become zero… nobody stops now.)

When the traffic disappeared, so did countless jobs. According to the residents, nearly a thousand hotels once lined the stretch between Swarghat and Bilaspur, each bustling with workers. Now, the abandoned dhabas stand as silent witnesses to a bygone era, stirring a deep sense of nostalgia. What was once a cherished hub for locals now feels distant, not because of miles, but because new infrastructure has created a gulf between the past and present. Such places are now only etched in the memories of the travellers who have travelled through this route. People sometimes mention these places in conversation, yet few actually go there now that traffic has shifted elsewhere. This change has split the area into two worlds: one bustling and alive, the other left behind, silent and forgotten. The old dhabas and roadside eateries stand as reminders of days filled with laughter and life, their stories lingering only in memory. Encounters that once happened there now exist only in recollection, along with the sense of long journeys once made to reach these destinations.

This photo essay traces the region’s transformation through its architecture and structures. Built forms subtly shape how we experience our surroundings, influence our travel routes, and colour the memories we collect along the way. They engage our senses, helping us form connections to places, people, and the wider world. When buildings rise or landscapes shift, our sense of self and our relationship to these places can change as well. Structures can block familiar views or reveal new horizons, altering what we see and how we feel. In this light, places left untouched, like the road described earlier, become steeped in nostalgia. Built environments offer a window into how residents, planners, and builders imagine the future and remember the past. Understanding these perceptions is especially vital in today’s South Asia.

**All images were created using Procreate.

Suwaena is originally from Tripura and currently an Intern at ISF working as a Designer and Development Practitioner. She graduated in Textile Design from NIFT, where her work focussed on the revival of tribal motifs and explored how indigenous design traditions can engage with contemporary market demands. She has worked with organisations such as GoSwadeshi as a Marketing Associate, where she contributed to understanding how social media shapes the visibility and market of handloom products. Currently, she is pursuing an MA in Developmental Studies at IIT Mandi, where she has worked on projects examining immigration policies, and social and economic impacts of infrastructure development on local communities. She is passionate about using her creative background to engage with the social sector and contribute to meaningful change.