Minimal lines, a form so still,
A cuboid rests upon the hill.
Yet every edge and softened bend
Speaks of function that transcends.

In Raipur’s hush, a weekend stays,
Where trees and time reclaim their ways.
A neem tree stands—the heart, the guide,
Its branches stretch, the rooms abide.

Laterite walls, both warm and wise,
Meet open glass that frames the skies.
A curved wall greets the western sun,
A cooling arc when day is done.

From plinth to roof, a spiral flight
Leads you to stars and whispered night.
Inside, the light does dance and play
Through skylit beams and shadowed clay.

A home of stillness, breath, and grace—
Where earth and sky embrace the space.