A community hall is not a building. It is a wedding, a funeral, an exam centre, a cyclone shelter, a tuition class for class-ten students, and a reason for the village to gather without an excuse. We did not understand this when we built the first one. We understand it deeply now.

Our first hall came up in a village that had not had a public space in living memory. Weddings were squeezed into courtyards. Last rites were performed in the open. School functions were held under tarpaulin. The day we handed over the keys, the sarpanch wept and promised that the doors would never be locked. They never have been.

Twelve halls later, we have learned to build with the village, not just for it. The land is donated. The masons are local. The naming is decided in a community meeting. We provide the design, the materials, and a portion of the funding — but the project belongs to the village, on paper and in spirit.

Each hall has a small library corner, a first-aid cupboard, and a chalkboard for community notices. Some have computer rooms now. One has even become a small skill-training centre for women.

If you ever pass through Bheemadevarpalle, sit on the steps of the community hall for an hour. Watch the day pass through it — children doing homework, an aunty drying chillies, a youth meeting in the corner planning a kabaddi match. That is what we built. Walls were the easy part.