Architect Raya Shankhwalker doesn’t design from behind a desk. Based in Goa, his work grows out of the slow, instinctive rhythms of travel and music. His practice is rooted in emotion, memory, and a deep sense of place. Over the years, Raya has quietly shaped the way design is experienced in Goa, through spaces that invite people in, encourage conversation, and make room for the unexpected. Along the way, he has also become a key figure in the quiet revival of the state’s jazz culture, creating environments that feel more like gatherings than events.
Most architects travel with a plan. Raya does the opposite. He moves without a fixed route, led by curiosity and the urge to notice what others miss. It might be a forgotten brass heirloom in Thanjavur or a dusty chair in a Karaikudi storeroom. These aren’t souvenirs. They’re fragments that slowly weave their way into his memory. Years later, they might return as a texture, a mood, or a detail in a building. One rare case where travel directly shaped design was Soro, the bar in Assagao. Its relaxed yet layered atmosphere was inspired by the colonial barracks of Dempsey Hills in Singapore, now home to cafes and shops that retain a sense of lived-in elegance.
For Raya, travel is no longer something he does to gather ideas. It’s something he does because it helps him feel grounded. He doesn’t go out searching for objects to use in a project. Instead, he absorbs what each place has to offer. Over time, this slow accumulation of impressions forms a kind of internal archive. When the time is right, he draws on it, sometimes without even realising.
His approach to music follows a similar logic. He doesn’t play, but he listens. He’s drawn to jazz in particular and often seeks out performances while travelling. He describes his relationship with music as still taking shape, but there’s a clear link between how he experiences it and how he designs. Both are open-ended, driven by instinct, and always looking for new rhythms. "I design the way I travel, without structure, always chasing new directions," he says.
Goa is central to all of this. His studio is based there, and his family has lived in Panjim for more than 250 years. That history gives him a strong sense of belonging, which has shaped his decision to live and work in the state. Starting a practice in Goa wasn’t the easiest or most obvious move at the time, but for Raya, it was never really a question. That deep connection to place now informs his efforts to contribute to Goa’s cultural life, not just through design, but through music, community, and memory.
The spaces he creates are not just venues. They are places that respond to the mood of a gathering, to the sound of a saxophone or the hush of an evening set. Soft materials, open layouts, and considered acoustics allow for performances to feel casual yet intimate. His favourite instruments—the Indian classical flute and the jazz saxophone—echo this. Their appeal lies in their freedom. They are less about precision and more about expression.
Raya’s work is shaped by this same instinct. He listens more than he imposes. His architecture is quiet, not loud. In Goa, it finds its rhythm in the in-between moments, where music drifts, heritage lingers, and something unplanned begins to take shape.
(Story by Esha Aphale)
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