The story of the kothis of Awadh is inseparable from the story of Lucknow itself, for these palatial houses capture the city’s spirit of elegance, cosmopolitanism, and political intrigue. When the Nawabs of Awadh shifted their capital from Faizabad to Lucknow in 1775, they carried with them not only wealth and courtly culture but also a vision of urban transformation. Under their patronage, Lucknow became a dazzling stage of cultural refinement where poetry, music, dance, and cuisine flourished, and where architecture spoke of ambition and confluence. Alongside the great mosques and imambaras rose the kothis—mansions and pleasure retreats that redefined the very idea of elite living in northern India.
Unlike the older havelis of Mughal tradition, which were enclosed, inward-looking, and designed around courtyards, the kothis embraced openness and borrowed extensively from European architectural idioms. Their symmetrical facades, high ceilings, grand staircases, pillared verandahs, and large windows reflected Enlightenment influences while still carrying Indo-Islamic ornamentation. Many were located along the Gomti River or amid lush gardens, their setting emphasizing both beauty and power. These were not just residences but also political stages where the Nawabs entertained European envoys, received traders, and asserted their grandeur to an increasingly watchful colonial world.
The making of the kothis was a collaborative endeavor between Awadhi patrons and European adventurers who had made Lucknow their home. Figures like Claude Martin, Antoine Polier, and Major Gore Ouseley introduced the Nawabs to European design and engineering, and the rulers enthusiastically commissioned buildings that broke from Indian palace conventions. In their spacious halls and salons, one could sense a desire to keep pace with cosmopolitan currents while remaining grounded in Indo-Islamic traditions. The kothis were therefore not just architectural experiments but also cultural symbols of dialogue and hybridity.
Yet, they were not merely pleasure palaces. These structures bore witness to the turbulence of Awadh’s political destiny. Many of them, such as the Chhattar Manzil and the Farhat Baksh Kothi, became crucial strongholds during the uprising of 1857, when Lucknow turned into a battlefield between British troops and local rebels. The very halls that once hosted music and poetry resounded with gunfire and the clash of bayonets. As such, the kothis embody both the splendour of Awadhi culture and the tragedies of its decline.
Today, though many of these once-elegant structures lie in ruins or have been repurposed into institutions, their silhouettes still evoke the grandeur of a vanished world. To walk through the remnants of a kothi is to step into an age when Indo-Islamic traditions conversed with European modernity, when diplomacy and leisure were conducted under painted ceilings, and when Lucknow was celebrated as the city of tehzeeb—refinement, grace, and cosmopolitan imagination. The kothis of Awadh, even in decay, remind us that architecture can be more than stone and mortar; it can be the living memory of a culture that strove to blend elegance with power and to find beauty even at the edge of political extinction.
Chhattar Manzil: The Umbrella Palace of Dreams
Chhattar Manzil, often regarded as one of the most iconic palaces of Lucknow, was originally built for the Nawabs and later adapted by successive rulers as a symbol of power and luxury. Construction was initiated by Nawab Saadat Ali Khan (1798–1814) in memory of his mother, Chhatar Kunwar, and completed by his successor Ghazi-ud-Din Haider around 1810. Its most recognizable feature was the gilded dome surmounted by a chhattri, from which the structure drew its name. Unlike the private havelis of Mughal nobility, Chhattar Manzil was expansive, with river-facing balconies, underground rooms, and sprawling halls that spoke of European neoclassical influences while retaining indigenous flourishes. It became an emblem of royal authority but also a site of rebellion during 1857, when it was occupied by insurgents and later bombarded by British forces. After annexation, it was repurposed as a club and later as a government office, its grandeur diminished but never erased. Even in its altered state, Chhattar Manzil continues to dominate the imagination of Lucknow as the palace most visibly linked with the glamour and turbulence of the Nawabi past.
Kothi Farhat Baksh: A House Named for Joy
Close to the grand Chhattar Manzil stood the equally distinguished Farhat Baksh Kothi, a residence that epitomized the entwining of leisure and politics in the heart of Lucknow. Originally constructed in 1781 by Claude Martin, the French adventurer, soldier, and architect who stamped his unmistakable legacy on Awadhi architecture, the kothi was later purchased by Nawab Saadat Ali Khan, who fittingly renamed it “Farhat Baksh,” or “bestower of happiness.” Perched on the banks of the Gomti River, its location made it both a serene riverside retreat and a vantage point of strategic importance. The building’s design, often described as resembling a “wedding cake” for its layered, tiered appearance, reflected Martin’s penchant for fusing European country-house aesthetics with local motifs, a style that fascinated the Nawabi elite. With its airy halls and broad terraces that commanded sweeping views of the city and river, the kothi embodied the Nawabs’ vision of cosmopolitan refinement. Yet, it was not merely a pleasure house; it became the stage for significant political exchanges, including delicate negotiations between the Nawabs of Awadh and the British East India Company. Its fate mirrored that of Lucknow itself—during colonial rule, the British appropriated the kothi as the residence of the British Resident, thus turning a Nawabi jewel into a symbol of imperial control. Adding to its layered legacy, Farhat Baksh Kothi also became the final resting place of Claude Martin himself, who breathed his last within its walls, making the structure not only a monument of cultural fusion but also the personal testament of one of Lucknow’s most remarkable figures.
The “wedding cake” design of Kothi Farhat Baksh
Dilkusha Kothi: A Palace of Delight Amid Gardens
If Farhat Baksh was built on riverbanks, Dilkusha Kothi was nested in gardens—and that too in conspicuous English style. Modeled after Seaton Delaval Hall in England, this early 19th-century structure was designed by the British resident Major Gore Ouseley , in baroque style, complete with corner towers, straight lines, and high ceilings. Unlike Indian palaces, it lacked courtyards and instead featured towers, high ceilings, and landscaped gardens in the English Baroque style. It quickly became a favored retreat of the Nawabs, offering an escape from the city into manicured landscapes where leisure and hunting were combined.
The Nawabs used Dilkusha as a country retreat and hunting lodge, while later the British made it a military base during the Revolt of 1857. Though its interiors were bombarded during the uprising, its ruined walls still stand, ivy creeping through their cracks. Today, Dilkusha evokes both nostalgia and melancholy—it reminds us of a leisure-loving aristocracy unable to withstand the storm of empire, leaving behind architectural fragments that resemble a European ruin in the heart of India.
Dilkusha Kothi as clicked in 1858 by Francis Beato.
Gardens of Dilkusha Kothi
Dilkusha Kothi as it stands today
Kothi Roshan-ud-Daula: The Minister’s Mansion
Kothi Roshan-ud-Daula, named after its patron Roshan-ud-Daula, the influential prime minister under Nawab Ghazi-ud-Din Haider, was constructed between 1827 and 1834 and soon emerged as one of Lucknow’s notable power centers. Unlike residences designed solely as retreats of pleasure, this kothi was as much a symbol of political authority as it was of aristocratic prestige. Within its walls, crucial negotiations, patronage networks, and social gatherings unfolded, making it a stage where the dynamics of Awadhi politics and culture intersected. Architecturally, the building displayed the distinctive Awadhi-European blend that had come to define the kothis of the era—stucco relief work, semi-classical facades, and a careful arrangement of spaces that balanced the requirements of private living with the grandeur expected of public receptions. Its ornate niches and elegant proportions testified to the refinement of its patron while its layout underscored its role as a residence where both statecraft and hospitality could flourish. Though scarred during the upheavals of 1857 and altered under colonial occupation, the surviving wings of Kothi Roshan-ud-Daula still carry faint echoes of its aristocratic past, a reminder of a time when architecture was inseparable from the exercise of power and cultural expression in Awadh.
The facade of Kothi Roshan-ud-daula
Kothi Gulistan-i-Iram: Paradise Imagined in Stone
Kothi Darshan Vilas: The Mansion of Views
Begum Kothi
Kothi Bibiyapur
Kothi Bibiyapur holds a special place in the architectural and political history of Awadh. Constructed during the reign of Nawab Asaf-ud-Daula in the late 18th century, the kothi was located outside the immediate confines of the city, offering the Nawab a retreat from the bustle of Lucknow. It is said that the Bibiyapur Kothi was used not just as a leisure residence but also as a strategic site for political discussions with the British. The design reflected European classical influences, with imposing arches, symmetrical layouts, and an openness to surrounding landscapes. At the same time, its halls and chambers were adorned in ways that retained the Nawabi aesthetic of comfort and cultural display. During the early 19th century, the kothi became the setting for important treaties and negotiations, symbolizing how architectural spaces were woven into the political history of Awadh. In later years, Bibiyapur was absorbed into colonial use, its Nawabi identity gradually eroded under administrative functions. Yet the kothi survives in memory and fragments, representing the transitional moment when Lucknow’s elite embraced European models of architecture even as they sought to assert their own cultural distinctiveness.
Jarnail Kothi: The General’s Residence
Noor Bakhsh Kothi – From Royal Residence to District Seat of Power
Noor Bakhsh Kothi, today the official residence and camp office of the District Magistrate on Mahatma Gandhi Marg, has lived many lives. Built either by Saadat Ali Khan or his successor Ghazi-ud-Din Haider, it has been described at different times as a maktab for royal heirs, a residence for princes, and even as a haunted house—its tomb once said to be the abode of restless spirits. Through the 19th century, Noor Bakhsh passed into the possession of royal family members, including Rafi-ush-Shaan, and later became a site of contestation during the upheavals of 1857. British officials repurposed it as the Deputy Commissioner’s residence, and though its ghostly legends faded, its role as a seat of authority continued into the present.
Tāre Wali Kothi – The House of Stars
Tare Wali Kothi captures the Nawabs’ fascination with science and modernity. Commissioned by Nasir-ud-Din Haidar Shah in 1831, it was built as an observatory, fitted with telescopes, barometers, and even a rotating dome for stargazing—an ahead-of-its-time innovation in India. Over the decades, however, its purpose shifted, and in the 20th century it became the headquarters of the Imperial Bank of India, later the State Bank of India, where it continues to function as the SBI head office.
Hayat Bakhsh Kothi – From Nawabi Mansion to Raj Bhavan
Hayat Bakhsh, meaning “life-giving house,” stands as a testimony to Lucknow’s regal elegance and colonial adaptation. Commissioned by Nawab Saadat Ali Khan and designed with input from the Frenchman Claude Martin, it showcased a two-storey European-style structure with plain facades, sprawling lawns, and subtle hints of Gothic influence. Unlike the ornate Mughal-inspired imambaras, Hayat Bakhsh leaned heavily into neoclassical aesthetics, reflecting the Nawabs’ fascination with European designs. Over time, this kothi underwent one of the most profound transformations of all. It was chosen as the official residence of the Governors of the United Provinces during the colonial period, renamed Raj Bhavan, and carefully expanded and beautified. Statues of Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati adorned its entrance; a marble umbrella and ornamental gardens enhanced its lawns; and the entire estate came to embody power in its most official sense. After Independence, Hayat Bakhsh retained its role as the Governor’s residence, and to this day, Raj Bhavan remains a seat of state authority in Lucknow. Its lawns host receptions, its halls welcome dignitaries, and its architecture continues to remind visitors of a time when Lucknow was a meeting ground of East and West, of Nawabi vision and British consolidation.
Kankar Wali Kothi
Besides the above mentioned kothis, the city boasts of few other grand Kothis that also deserve a mention here eg The Tehri Kothi that now houses the Head Quarters of Uttar Pradesh State Transport Corporation and the Ainon wali Kothi which housed the Hindi Sansthaan etc.
Together, these kothis offer a vivid window into the world of Awadh at its cultural and political zenith. They reveal how architecture served not merely as shelter but as a language—through which Nawabs and courtiers articulated ambition, embraced global influences, and fashioned environments for leisure, governance, and display. Each mansion carried a distinct identity: some as palaces of pleasure and poetry, others as hunting retreats, scientific observatories, or nerve-centers of administration.
Yet, threaded through their beauty runs a shared story of fragility. The Revolt of 1857 and the expansion of British power transformed these houses of elegance into military outposts, commissioner residences, banks, and bureaucratic offices. What was once luminous and ornamental often became scarred or stripped of ornament, reflecting the vulnerability of cultural memory in the face of political upheaval.
Even so, their outlines remain, shaping the character of modern Lucknow. The domes and chhattris of Nawabi imagination coexist with the Doric columns and porticos of European influence, while Persian garden ideals mingle with English landscape planning. Through this fusion, the kothis remind us that Lucknow was not only a site of artistic connoisseurship but also a crucible of hybridity—where East and West did not merely collide but intertwined.
The story of these kothis is not only architectural; it is profoundly human. It is a chronicle of aspiration, encounter, resilience, and transformation, written in stucco and stone, gardens and courtyards. To walk among their ruins or their still-living halls is to hear whispers of poetry and politics, music and maneuver, echoing across centuries. And in those echoes, the legacy of Awadh endures—fragile yet unforgettable.
