Nisha Mary Poulous is an architect and bioregional planner with a passion for socio-ecological transformation and regenerative systems. She is the founder of Woven Design Collaborative—a firm that designs, strategises and weaves at the confluence of human habitat, planning, and the environment.

In this piece, Nisha highlights humanity’s role in co-evolution with the Earth rather than mere conservation, and stresses the importance of validating ancestral wisdom and rebalancing aspirations with environmental realities. Nisha envisions a regenerative future with local abundance, collective well-being, and thriving ecosystems—where both nature and people coexist in freedom, embracing their interdependent roles within the planet’s cycles.

Question: How do you define or explain the term regeneration? And in your view, what distinguishes regenerative practices from sustainability efforts?

I like to talk about regeneration as a process as old as the Earth itself—something intrinsic to the way life unfolds. The simplest way to understand it is by looking at how an organism, or even part of one, regains or re-evolves its ability to function fully. What I find fascinating is that when something regenerates, it doesn’t always look the same as it did before. It may have changed, adapted, or taken on a new form, yet it’s still whole, still fully itself.

When we talk about regeneration in today’s world, I see it as a way of rediscovering our deep, intrinsic connection with the Earth. It’s about moving back into a state of co-evolution—where we actively support the planet’s ability to regenerate. The Earth already regenerates at an ecosystemic level, with countless interconnected subsystems co-regenerating in a natural, continuous cycle. For us as humans, that connection has been severely disrupted, largely due to colonial processes that interrupted this co-evolution in much of the world.

Somewhere along the way, we lost the sense that we are one among millions of species living on this planet—participants in a larger regenerative process. The sustainability movement emerged as a response to this, and while it was important, I’ve always felt that it had a certain limitation. It was framed in a very scientific, structured way, focusing on how we manage resources to ensure survival beyond our time. But at its core, it still treated the Earth as just a set of resources—asking, "How much can we take while ensuring the supply continues?" It remains human-centric and rooted in extraction, but now with limits in place.

Regeneration, on the other hand, asks a different question: "How do we collaborate with the Earth?" As a species, we have a function within this planetary system, just like any other organism. So how do we rediscover what that function is, rebalance our role, and reintegrate into the natural cycles of continuous regeneration?

That said, I don’t see regeneration and sustainability as separate movements. Sustainability emerged as a response to the processes of global colonisation, environmental destruction, and mass extinction. It was a necessary response to an urgent crisis. But for me, sustainability is just one part of a larger regenerative process. We still need resources, and the Earth is both a provider and a living organism that we are a part of. Regeneration encompasses sustainability, but it goes beyond it—towards a deeper, more reciprocal relationship with the planet.

I read that you've been working on human ecology rebalancing and have initiated and worked on specific projects or initiatives in this space. Could you talk us through the key strategies you used and share more about what you've done in this area?

My background is in architecture, followed by a Master’s in International Cooperation in Urban Development, and a second one in Urbanism and Habitat. This path led me to regional planning, which, in most countries, falls under public administration. I spent a couple of years working as a planner with the Karnataka government, but even before my Master’s, I was involved in planning projects as an architect.

Through that experience, one thing became clear: Our governance systems are currently highly technocratic. They are largely dominated by engineers and bureaucrats who treat urban development as a problem to be solved through infrastructure—bridges, roads, and technology-driven solutions. But we’re not machines. We’re living organisms, and our cities should reflect that.

This realisation shaped my practice and led to the creation of The Woven Design Collaborative. We approach urban spaces not as ‘settlements’—which implies dominance over land—but as ‘habitats’, acknowledging interdependence with the environment. A habitat isn’t just for humans; it includes multiple species and natural systems that sustain life. When any element is out of balance, the whole system suffers. Our work focuses on shifting urban spaces from static settlements to dynamic, living ecosystems.

Take, for instance, the Hampi project. Hampi is an ancient site, dating back a few thousand years and holds deep historical, cultural, and mythological significance. It's also home to a living community whose relationship with the region can be traced back through the generations. Despite the area's rich natural and cultural legacy, these communities exist in severe poverty, a reality shaped by centuries of systemic oppression.

The mainstream development approach in Hampi has revolved around tourism and, more recently, pilgrimage infrastructure. While tourism is an economic driver, it cannot be the sole focus of development. The challenge was to reactivate Hampi as a living, thriving community rather than just a spectacle for visitors.

Our strategy aimed to integrate conservation, cultural heritage, and community well-being into a holistic development framework. Rather than imposing large-scale external interventions—like five-star hotels and generic infrastructure—we looked at how to create a regenerative economy led by the local community. For instance, instead of generic tour guides, why not have locals share their lived knowledge? Why not use indigenous materials and craftsmanship rather than importing mass-produced structures? Development should enhance a place, not erase it.

People on the ground—whether local communities or government employees—often already know the best solutions. Yet, top-down decision-making and a one-size-fits-all approach keep them from being implemented effectively. Development needs to move beyond rigid bureaucratic templates and listen to those who truly understand the land.

This brings me to wonder: who are we to tell them what they should or should not aspire to?

You're absolutely right. That’s a very powerful question. I mean, who has the right to decide the future, right? Who has the right to say, "this should be"? Of course, there’s a power dynamic at play because we’re all a very privileged, educated layer of society deciding this for others. But the only thing I’d say about that is, what is true aspiration versus what is built or created aspiration? What is someone saying you should be, versus what do you genuinely want?

For me, one important thing is to place awareness on this disconnect. We have two disruptive layers. One is the colonial layer that came and said, "We are savage, everything we do is wrong." We’re still trying to figure out what part of history was altered; we don’t even know. Even people who spend so much time understanding coloniality—people who research, read and contemplate —find it difficult to unravel. So, for those without access to education, it’s even harder, right? Especially in the pluralistic context of India, where the British reinforced this narrative, and the upper classes and castes perpetuated it even further. That layer needs to be peeled away.

I think it’s important to provide a platform where there is validation for this wisdom. When people feel valued in their root contexts, that’s often all that’s needed to tip the scales.

How do you envision the future of regenerative practices or regenerative future? What's your vision for it?

The future I imagine is one where we truly embrace our local systems. A future where everyone experiences abundance and joy from their own surroundings—where life is about living, not about earning, proving a point, or anything beyond simply existing. I believe that, wherever you are in the world, there is an indigenous way of life that allows you to live abundantly within the available resources.

The future I envision is one where people find joy and abundance at a bioregional scale. This is a scale I'm deeply engaged with, both conceptually and practically, and I find it incredibly meaningful. It’s about doing enough to thrive, not striving for excess. It’s about building a community where collective aspirations matter, where we recognise that we rise together. When we think about gain or resources, it should be for the benefit of all.

In the future, I imagine, nature is free. This is the essence of a regenerative future—where rivers flow freely, forests flourish undisturbed, and biodiversity thrives. It is a future in which nature’s authentic and wild systems are no longer colonised, excessively controlled, unduly altered or exploited—free from dams, overfishing, overgrazing, mindless infrastructure, and other human-imposed oppressions.