“On the field of dharma, at Kurukshetra.” — Bhagavad Gita
Where the Gita was first spoken, we are raising a chariot in stone.

Some sites you design. Others ask you to bow first.

This is Kurukshetra — the dharmabhumi of Haryana, where Krishna, as Arjuna’s sarathi, turned despair into the eternal song of the Gita.

It is our deepest honour to share an ongoing project we hold closest — a new ISKCON temple complex, conceived as the divine rath of Krishna.

The whole composition is built to move. White marble horses rise mid-gallop at the threshold, faceted in a contemporary, almost parametric geometry — ancient power, new hands. Behind them, the great chariot wheels are carved into the plinth itself, so the temple does not sit on the ground so much as ride it. Above, a triple shikhara crests into the gold of dawn.

At the centre of all that motion, a single marble lotus opens from a still reflecting pool — the breath before the word.

We designed it for sunrise — when mist hangs in the trees, the wet plaza mirrors the sky, and the true scale reveals itself only through the devotees standing small beneath the horses.

Not merely a temple. A chariot remembered in marble — and the song that still moves through it.