An enclosure designed to shelter a 9th-century stupa in Ensa, Ladakh. Built using stone, earth, and timber, the structure employs passive lighting and intuitive geometry.
It creates a natural microclimate while maintaining visual and spatial reverence—supporting ritual use without compromising the integrity of the historic monument or its landscape.
In the remote village of Ensa, a millennia-old stupa stands quietly beside the monastery. Exposed to the elements and time, it marks a spiritual centre that has long shaped the rhythm of the place.
The enclosure aspires to protect the stupa from the harsh climate while reframing its presence. It offers a space that supports prayer, gathering, and contemplation—a structure that does not compete with the monument but draws attention to its quiet power.
Stepping inside, the enclosure invites an experience of introspection—an echo of the stupa itself. A quiet path encircles its base, and in this intimate space, movement slows. Light becomes scarce, entering only through a narrow opening above and the threshold behind. Shadows gather along the walls, softening the edges of the structure and deepening the sense of enclosure. The experience shifts from observation to immersion, as if the structure has gathered centuries of devotion and distilled them into a single, heightened sense of presence.
The form is shaped by the principles of Ladakhi vernacular architecture, where stone, earth, and timber are brought together with a respect for the inherent logic of materials. Timber elements are arranged not to dominate, but to hold space. The structure draws on intuitive geometry, with forms that are simply stacked and balanced, reflecting an understanding of mass and gravity honed over generations.
A frame that allows light, wind, and footsteps to pass through.
The enclosure becomes a vessel for stillness. It extends the sanctity of the stupa beyond its stone body, creating a spatial threshold between the everyday and the sacred. A place for those who pass by to bow, sit, or simply look.
In the landscape of Ladakh, where built forms emerge from necessity and tradition, this small addition hopes to continue that lineage. It is not a monument, but a gesture—simple, deliberate, and rooted in the ways Ladakh has always built with what it has, and what it believes.
