Two kilometres beyond the last motorable road in the Garhwal Himalayas, a story unfolds that feels plucked from a half-remembered fairytale. Here, hidden deep within oak and pine, a house rises from the earth—its walls swell and bend as though shaped by wind, its roof catches sunlight like a glaze. To the locals, it’s known simply as the ‘mud house’. But on Instagram, it’s a wizard’s retreat, a set from a fantasy film, a portal to somewhere slower, quieter, softer. For Delhi-based architect brothers Ansh and Raghav Kumar, it is none of these and all of these. Built over three years, it’s more than just a home. “It was never just about the house,” says Ansh, co-founder, Tiny Farm Lab. “It was about changing the way we live.”
That change began with discontent. City life—with its synthetic food and soulless architecture—had worn thin. “We realised our built environment was not very creative, almost ugly,” says Raghav. “We wanted to move to the mountains, and the house was a by-product of that shift.” The brothers found their medium in cob—an ancient, humble material made of clay, sand, straw, and water. Mixed by foot, “preferably danced upon,” as Ansh grins, cob is shaped like a sculpture but stands like a fortress. “It’s like sculpting clay,” Ansh explains, “but instead of a pot, you’re shaping a home.”
The result is a 600 sq ft haven—now run as a homestay—stays cool in summer, warm in winter. More than 100 people from 18 countries came to build it—friends, strangers, volunteers who found the project on Workaway or Instagram. Alongside 15 locals, they shaped the walls with their hands. Some came for a week, others for months. “It’s the most democratic material,” Ansh says. “A five-year-old can pat it into place, an 80-year-old can shape it.”
In a region of stone homes, mud carried a stigma—poverty, impermanence, fragility. “Even the villagers thought it would melt in the rain,” Ansh recalls. But with a wide roof and solid foundation—what cob builders call a “good hat and good boots”—the material can outlast centuries. England still houses 500-year-old cob cottages. In the Middle East, mud homes have stood for over a thousand years. Even parts of the Great Wall of China are earthen.
Getting to the house demands a small pilgrimage: a trek across a footbridge that must be rebuilt each October after monsoon floods. “People come here to write, to think,” says Raghav. Its cob walls and floors act as thermal batteries, storing heat by day and releasing it at night.
Many assume mud homes must be “dirt cheap.” But natural building shifts the cost from materials to labour. In India, cob construction ranges from Rs 1,500 to Rs 4,500 per sq ft, depending on design, size, and complexity. The brothers kept material costs low, but invested in a strong roof, proper windows, and utilities.
Now, they consult on cob projects from Chattarpur to Hampi, and lead workshops for those curious to learn. The original house remains a sacred beginning—and like all good stories, it asks only to be stepped into.