The general characteristics of these “chang” houses may be gathered from the above [sketch]. In the cottages of the peasantry the “chang,” or platform, is rarely raised more than 4 or 5 feet above the ground, but 10, or even 15 feet is no uncommon height in the case of the houses of people of means and position. Even in the case of houses occupied by planters and officials, the walls are largely composed of bamboo matting, while in those of the populace, the floor itself is formed of a stouter variety of the same material; and on account of the growing cost of timber of a class that will resist white ants, I have little doubt that ere long steel girders will replace the wooden framework and corrugated iron will take the place of the picturesque thatched roof, at any rate in the coast towns. A chang of concrete carried on stout corrugated iron, 8-inch walls of the “Elizabethan” pattern, and a double corrugated iron roof, with a large intervening air space, would form a most comfortable, if not very beautiful, residence, for the combination of heat and moisture with the evils of which the chang house is intended to cope; but walls of such flimsy materials would be of little avail to withstand the furnace-heated air of hot dry climates, such as are met with in the Punjab and the deserts of Rajputana.
One of the great sanitary advantages of the chang house is the circulation of air beneath the floors, and the comparative immunity from vermin secured by its isolation on the top of high posts, and though there is no objection to the storing beneath it of carriages and other articles frequently moved, because in daily request, the covered space beneath the house should on no account be allowed to degenerate into a lumber room, as not only will lumber attract dangerous vermin, but with the inevitable numerous native dependants, the lumber room will soon develop into a refuse heap, or worse. Although there is no need to construct a regular plinth, the ground below the chang should always be slightly raised by laying down a layer of gravel, as any collection of water would be obviously unhealthy; besides which, if kept in proper order, the large shady space forms an excellent playground for children, where such charming encumbrances form part of the household.
In actually desert climates, a plinth is less essential, but there are comparatively few countries in which heavy rain does not occur at some time of the year, and any dampness of the soil immediately underlying a house is always unhealthy.
Fig. 3.—Ground plan of an existing “up-country” Indian Bungalow, in which the doors and windows are well placed. (The dotted lines represent wire gauze screens.) Scale, 18′ = 1″
The second great desideratum of a tropical house is free ventilation, to secure which at least one, and preferably two, sides of each room should be in free communication with the outer air by means of doors or windows, and some at least of these should extend to the floor level or near it. Many Indian houses are spoilt by want of attention to this point, especially those of long standing; for though the original plan may have been fairly sound, the desire for additional accommodation generally, in course of time, leads to additions, and especially to the enclosure of verandahs, whereby rooms, originally light and airy, are quite cut off from all exterior ventilation. Many of these enclosed rooms have small dormer or clerestory windows, close up to the roof; but openings of this sort are no real substitute for proper windows and doors in the usual position, and where choice can be exercised, a house with inner rooms should be rejected in favour of one affording freer ventilation.
The [subjoined plan] is a good example of an existing, well-planned bungalow of one floor, in which every room has external doors and windows, and several have them on two sides. It should be added that every room has one or more clerestory windows to give exit to the heated air that always finds its way to the top of any enclosed space.
In the best class of houses in Persia this principle of free external ventilation is often carried to the extent of all four sides of the rooms being provided with several openings—the different rooms being separated from each other by open passages, running right across the building from verandah to verandah.
As there are often several doors on each side, one easily realises that Aladdin’s hundred-doored palace may have been no mere creation of the fancy, but was probably based on some actual palace—indeed, as a matter of fact, the Subsabad Residency at Bushire has, I believe, a good deal over the allowance of doors assigned to Aladdin’s palace, and I know that the room I occupied there had no less than nine doors, though two of them gave access respectively to a dressing-room and bath-room.
The outline ([fig. 4]) will give some idea of the way in which the rooms are arranged; but it is needless to say that the plan is a very expensive one. It will be noticed that the southern verandahs are double. Practically speaking, indeed, a Persian house is little else than a series of colonnades, with the spaces between certain of the pillars filled in with door frames, so that it would be an expensive business to fortify one against the invasion of mosquitoes.