Chummery, not Chameli: The misread history of a Dhaka landmark
A rare Central European–inspired timber structure in Dhaka’s colonial core, Chummery House stands out not just for its architecture but for how its original design has been steadily reshaped—and often misunderstood—over time
If you have ever walked down Topkhana Road and felt something pull your eye sideways, it was probably this: a red-bricked building with timber-framed walls, a sloping tiled roof, and a wide open lawn that feels oddly out of place in the middle of a government corridor—a building that the locals call Chameli house.
But if you look up on Google Maps or other official signboards, the building is called Chummery House—not a faithful transliteration at all.
The buildings on one side look strikingly dissimilar, concrete, brutalist corporate government buildings that are meant to occupy as many people as possible, buildings that carry no identity of their own.
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On the other side, the Supreme Court, Curzon Halls, and other landmark architectures from the colonial era stand—signaling it's not entirely on its own.
Across British India and beyond — from Rangoon to Colombo to Dhaka — chummery houses were a rather mundane feature of British colonial rule. It was meant to occupy unmarried British officials living far away from their homes.
It is now the headquarters of Cirdap—the Centre for Integrated Rural Development for Asia and Pacific, an intergovernmental and autonomous regional organisation.
But how did it travel here? How does a structure conceived as bachelor quarters for an empire's functionaries become one of the most architecturally singular buildings in Dhaka—and then spend a century being quietly, steadily misunderstood?
The name and its history
Before getting to its architectural features and changing functions, the word itself is worth pausing over.
'Chummery' is an Anglo-Indian coinage — 'chum', meaning friend, with the suffix '-ery', referring to shared quarters for unmarried colonial officials. The term appears in colonial literature, from Kipling to Orwell.
In Bengali usage, however, it became "Chameli," losing both its linguistic root and its architectural meaning. The shift seems minor, but it effectively detached the building from its typology — turning a functional housing form into something ornamental in name.
"The timber framing, the roof—this construction system belongs to that tradition. The roof slopes inward in a distinctive way. There is nothing else quite like it in Dhaka."
A building out of place — and precisely placed
After the 1905 Partition of Bengal—the Bangabhanga—Dhaka became the capital of the newly created province of East Bengal and Assam, and the British set about redesigning its administrative core around Ramna Green. The layout they chose was the work of British architect Robert Louis Proudlock, who produced an ensemble that included Curzon Hall, the Governor's House (now the old High Court building), the Foreign Ministry office, and Chummery House itself.
As mentioned previously, it originally served as a residence for British officials; by 1938, it had been converted into a dormitory for women students of Dhaka University, according to historian Prof Muntasir Mamoon, who has extensively worked on Dhaka's history.
Chummery House was inserted into this plan not as a monumental structure but as a residential one, set back within an open lawn. That setback, still visible today, was part of a larger spatial logic: buildings were meant to breathe, to remain visually connected across green space rather than crowd the street edge.
What now reads as an anomaly — a low, open, almost suburban form in a dense government corridor — was once entirely consistent with its surroundings.
Architecture beyond the 'colonial' label
Across British India, chummery houses were built as shared residences for unmarried British officials. Typologically, they were modest, functional, and rarely architecturally distinctive.
Dhaka's Chummery House is the exception.
Often described simply as "colonial," the building is in fact more specific in its architectural lineage. "This is not a pure Victorian building," says architect Abu Sayeed M Ahmed. "It draws from a South European tradition—closer to the Bavarian region around Munich or the Swiss belt."
The most striking feature is its timber-frame construction, a system rooted in Central European vernacular architecture. The exposed structural rhythm, combined with infill panels, creates a façade texture that is almost absent in Dhaka.
The roof reinforces this identity. Steeply pitched and originally finished in red tiles, it slopes inward in a manner uncommon in the region. Deep overhangs provide climatic protection, while the overall massing remains low and horizontally spread.
Together, these elements—timber framing, sloped roof, and open siting — produce a building that is both imported and adapted. It is neither fully European nor conventionally colonial in the South Asian sense, but something in between.
Changing functions, stable form
Originally built to house unmarried British officials, the structure soon moved beyond its initial purpose. By 1938, it had been converted into a dormitory for female students of the University of Dhaka.
In the decades that followed, it passed through multiple uses — residential, institutional, administrative — before becoming the headquarters of CIRDAP in the mid-1970s.
While its function shifted repeatedly, its architectural core remained largely intact, allowing it to retain a distinct identity even as its role changed.
Alterations and the loss of context
The more significant changes have come not from within the building, but around it.
In 1995, a two-storey conference hall was added to the rear, extending the footprint beyond its original limits. In 2001, the see-through boundary that once connected the building visually to its surroundings was replaced with a solid wall, severing its relationship with the street and the wider Ramna landscape.
A 2006 roof renovation replaced original materials, subtly altering its most recognisable feature.
The most dramatic shift came with the construction of a six-storey building within the compound. Where Chummery House once stood within an open lawn, part of a carefully composed colonial ensemble, it now sits within a dense institutional complex. The lawn has narrowed, sightlines have tightened, and the building's spatial presence has diminished.
Still standing, not fully understood
Today, Chummery House survives as one of the few remaining traces of Dhaka's layered architectural past. Its programme has changed repeatedly, but its form — timber frame, sloped roof, and low-slung massing — still holds.
Yet it remains curiously misread. Reduced to a generic "colonial" label and misnamed in everyday language, its more specific architectural lineage is often overlooked.
In a city that is constantly building over itself, Chummery House persists — not just as a relic, but as a reminder of a different architectural logic: one of openness, material expression, and a quieter, more deliberate relationship between building and site.
