Maps from South Asia —
Maps from South Asia —
A galery of maps celebrating the geography and beauty of the Subcontinent
I had the chance of visiting Gujarat in february 2026, a region I was longing to see after reading and hearing so much about its marvellous textile heritage, still going strong today.
Visiting textile workshops and shops around Ahmedabad and Bhuj, seeing all these patterns, texture, visual elements elegantly blended together on a single frame by skilled craftpeople really triggered something in me and I wanted to make a map of it, somehow.
I ended doing crafting something too, to channel that obsession of making a map as maximalist and intricate as indian craft can be. A map that celebrates traditional weaving, stitching and block printing patterns found across the state, such as Bandhani, Patola, Ajrakh block print, Toran, kutchi, rebari and nomad embroidery, in this map, all standing for a type of land use.
Here’s my attempt at making a hydrologically and etymologically accurate map of Punjab, the land of five rivers.
Beas, Ravi, Sutlej, Chenab and Jhelum - and a sixth one, the Indus as an extra guest - form a beautiful and ancient geography that has been evolving through the centuries, with rivers that used to flow, like the Saraswati, and countless canals and human-made waterways created by the british during the Raj.
This tree or rather hand-like water system coming from the mountain is fed by glacial and snow melt, but also monsoon rains and its doab, the tract of land between rivers, is South Asia's breadbasket, thanks to a perfect combination of fertile and irrigated lands blessed with warm climate and hard working farmers.
Tall, towering peaks, arid mountains and plateaus and a desert surround Punjab on three of its side, further enriching its geography and one map is barely enough to unpack all there’s to say and understand about the region.
The map features a Phulkari pattern, a flower embroidery, from Punjab, around the key. Phulkari is a very intricate embroidery work traditionally made by Punjabi women, representing a quintessential punjabi staple, wheat, but stylised in the form of a flower.
Have you ever wondered what a map of today’s Delhi - the indian capital city, a megacity of 35 million - superimposed with the city, or rather the cluster of cities and villages, that used to exist there in 1807 would exist? Well, here’s your answer.
I blended an old map made by a british military surveyor of Delhi (then Shahjahanabad) and its environ in 1807 with today’s data, water bodies and metro lines to give the reader a sense of scale.
Blending the two not only achieves to show the incredible urban spread that took over the 1807 Delhi region. Indeed, today, most of the map is urban fabric, except for the hills you see in the centre: they’re the 2 billion year old Aravalli mountains.
The map also helps realise that anyone walking in Chanakpuri, Sainik farm, Rohini or taking the metro in Kashmere gate or Delhi Gate is actually stepping on and surrounded by what used to be a mediaeval walled city filled by sufi shrines, abandoned forts, caravanserais and villages spread across the Yamuna plains…
In april and may 2024, I set for a peculiar adventure in Delhi, one the greenest capitals of Asia: I went after the most iconic, interesting, marvelous, but also hidden, crowded and ordinary parks and green spaces of the city.
My goal was simple. I wanted to document them, what goes in their premises, what people do we find there, what they do, how they do it and how.
Answering all these questions help to understand different things like history, urban planning, social geography, unequality patterns, class divide and the urban heat island phenomenon.
The result of this quest for Delhi’s greenery is a 15 minute read with original maps and photographs you can find here.
An invisible line runs across South Asia.
From Shimla to Kanyakumari, it divides this vast region into two parts. One side looks toward the Arabian Sea, the other toward the Bay of Bengal.
I am, of course, talking about river catchments, these invisible giants that discreetly take shape, along ridgelines, peaks, and plateaus, giants whose backs we walk on every day, without even noticing it.
And what about the raindrops then? Picture this: a raindrop falling in Leh, Kabul, Shimla, or Jabalpur will eventually end its journey in the warm waters of the Arabian Sea, carried by the legendary Indus, the enigmatic Narmada, and the mountain torrents of the Western Ghats.
Another raindrop, falling in Lhasa, Shimla, Delhi, Pune, or Bangalore, will reach the Bay of Bengal after a journey through glacial valleys, wild meanders, vast lowland rivers, and sprawling deltas. Yes, Shimla shows up twice, no, this is not a mistake. This indian city in the Himalaya enjoys the rare distinction of lying exactly on the boundary between these two immense systems.
So, next time you see a raindrop hitting the ground, just think of the crazy adventure it’s about to begin.
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