Samrat Sarode Interview
Q. You're an architect, but your work today sits at the intersection of history, science, and storytelling. At what point did architecture stop being just about buildings for you and start becoming a way to decode civilization?
It happened when I realized that buildings are the only true 'time machines' we have. In architectural school, we are taught form and function, but standing inside a centuries-old temple or fort, you realize you are looking at a frozen philosophy. It stopped being just about 'shelter' when I saw that a single pillar could reveal a civilization’s grasp of mathematics, their astronomical alignment, and their relationship with nature.
Architecture isn't just construction; it is the physical manifestation of a society's highest thoughts. Once you see that, you can’t just look at a building as 'walls and a roof' anymore.
Q. Your content often challenges the idea that ancient structures were primitive. What is the most misunderstood assumption modern society makes about ancient engineering?
The biggest misconception is equating 'low-tech' with 'low-intelligence.' We assume that because they didn’t have cranes, electricity, or CAD software, they were fumbling in the dark. The reality is the opposite. Because they lacked powered machinery, their understanding of physics, leverage, and material properties had to be better than ours.
We solve problems with horsepower; they solved them with brainpower. The precision of their interlocking stones and their water management systems isn't primitive, it’s sustainable engineering that has outlasted our modern concrete
Q. You frequently speak about lost science. Do you think this knowledge was truly lost or was it systematically ignored because it didn’t fit modern narratives of progress?
It’s a mix of both. History is often written with a linear bias, the idea that today must be better than yesterday. Admitting that an engineer in 1000 AD knew something about acoustics or seismic resistance that we don’t quite grasp disrupts that narrative. I think much of it was 'lost' in translation, literally and culturally.
Knowledge was often oral or encrypted in verses (Shlokas) that modern education doesn't teach us to decode. We aren't just missing the textbooks; we are missing the cultural lens required to read them
Q. Many of your reels simplify complex ideas like geometry, water systems, and material science for a digital audience. How do you balance accuracy vs virality without diluting the science?
It’s a tightrope walk. The 'virality' comes from the visual hook, showing the grandeur or the mystery. The 'accuracy' comes in the script. My rule is: Simplify the language, not the logic. I avoid heavy jargon, but I never dumb down the engineering principle.
If I’m talking about interlocking joints, I might not use the academic term, but I will show exactly how the friction works. People are smarter than algorithms give them credit for; if you respect their intelligence, they stay for the science, not just the spectacle
Q. As an architect, what has ancient Indian engineering taught you that modern architectural education often overlooks?
Symbiosis with nature. Modern education focuses heavily on dominating the environment—HVAC systems to cool us, concrete to separate us from the earth. Ancient Indian engineering was about harnessing the environment. Stepwells cooled the air naturally; temples were oriented to capture specific light.
They didn't build on the land; they built with the land. That holistic integration is something modern curriculums are frantically trying to relearn under the guise of 'sustainability,' but it was the default setting back then
Q. In one of your posts, you highlight how perfect mathematics doesn’t require modern technology. Does this suggest that innovation today is overly dependent on tools rather than thinking?
Absolutely. Today, if the software says it works, we believe it. We have become operators of tools rather than masters of principles. Ancient architects had to derive their geometry from first principles—using shadows, ropes, and the stars.
When you build that way, you have an intimate understanding of the 'Why,' not just the 'How.' Innovation happens in the mind, not in the CPU. Tools speed up execution, but they can sometimes slow down deep thinking.
Q. Social media usually rewards speed and spectacle, yet your content demands patience and curiosity. Do you feel platforms are ready for deeper knowledge or are creators like you pushing against the algorithm?
I think the audience is starving for depth. The algorithm loves speed, but human beings love wonder. We are tired of the 15-second dopamine hit that leaves us empty. When I post a deep-dive into a temple’s geometry, the engagement shows me that people want to learn.
Creators are definitely pushing against the 'fast food' nature of content, but we are finding that people are willing to sit for a 'slow-cooked meal' if the story is compelling enough
Q. You travel extensively to document sites. Has physically being present at these structures ever changed your interpretation compared to what books or texts suggested?
Every single time. Books give you dimensions; being there gives you the 'vibe'—the acoustics, the way the wind hits the corridor, the temperature drop inside a stone chamber. For example, seeing the Kailasa Temple in photos is one thing, but standing in its shadow and realizing this was carved top-down from a single rock changes your perception of human capability. You feel the scale of the intent. You can't read 'atmosphere' in a textbook
Q. For young architects or students consuming your content, what is one habit of observation or thinking they should develop immediately?
Stop looking at buildings at eye level. Look up at the ceilings, look down at the plinths, and look behind the facades. And ask 'Why?' more than 'How?' Don't just ask how the pillar stands; ask why the architect chose that specific motif on it. Architecture is a language. If you don't learn the vocabulary of details, you’re just looking at a pile of rocks
Q. When you say “Let’s reign the world of knowledge together,” who do you imagine as your ideal learner experts, students, or the simply curious?
The simply curious. Experts often have their cups full, and students are often worried about grades. But the curious—the accountant, the doctor, the artist who scrolls through Instagram at night wondering about the past, they are the ones who keep history alive. They ask the most genuine questions. If I can spark a fire in them, the knowledge spreads.
Q. If an ancient Indian engineer was alive today and scrolling through Instagram, what do you think they’d critique most about modern architecture?
They would likely critique our 'Planned Obsolescence.' They built for eternity; we build for a 50-year lease. They would be baffled by our glass boxes in tropical climates and our reliance on electricity to make buildings habitable. They’d probably ask, 'Where is the soul? Where is the geometry that connects this box to the cosmos?' They would find our structures impressive in height, but perhaps lacking in spirit
Bio:
Ar. Samrat Sarode, is a Pune-based architect and independent heritage researcher obsessed with decoding the lost science of ancient Indian civilization. Through his studio, Studio Aayaadi, he works at the intersection of architecture, astronomy, and historical research. His focus is on breaking down complex ideas like sacred geometry, ancient engineering, and temple science into clear, engaging narratives through digital content and documentaries. Currently, he is documenting the unwritten engineering principles behind Maharashtra’s rock-cut cave temples, knowledge that never made it into textbooks.
Interviewed by: Nidhi
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