Roshan vs. Mashrabiya: A Dialogue of Shade, Craft, and Identity in Islamic Architecture

In the intricate language of traditional Islamic architecture, two lattice window systems stand out for their elegance, pragmatism, and profound cultural symbolism: the Roshan and the Mashrabiya. Both were born out of environmental necessity and social decorum — designed to provide privacy, ventilation, and protection from the sun. Yet, when seen side by side, they tell two distinctly regional stories. One rooted in the sea-facing Hejazi towns of western Arabia, the other shaped by the poetic courtyards of Cairo and the shaded alleys of Baghdad.

The image provided starkly illustrates this duality. On the left, the Roshan, with its layered construction, deep projection, and ornate wooden balustrades, rises like an architectural proclamation — bold, extroverted, tactile. On the right, the Mashrabiya appears more restrained: elegant arches, recessed frames, and geometric wooden filigree woven with near mathematical precision. Both consist of a head, a middle body, and a decorative base, but their presence on the façade reveals radically different attitudes toward public space, privacy, and domestic life.

1. The Roshan: A Hejazi Declaration of Air and Status

The Roshan is one of the most iconic architectural elements of Hijazi cities such as Jeddah, Mecca, and Medina, emerging prominently during the 17th to 19th centuries. Its hallmark is its projection outward from the building’s face, often spanning the entire façade width. Supported by heavy timber brackets, the Roshan functions as both a viewing platform and an environmental mediator. It is built primarily from imported teak or sagwan wood, brought from India via the Red Sea trade networks.

Unlike other lattice systems, the Roshan also includes glass elements and enclosed panels, offering filtered light and a controlled view to the street. The intricate joinery and ornamentation often include floral motifs, colored glass insets, and carved arabesques — a reflection of both economic affluence and craftsmanship excellence. Depending on complexity, the production of a single Roshan could take anywhere from 20 to 60 working days, involving teams of joiners, carvers, and finishers.

Functionally, it allows women to observe life outside without being seen — a practical application of privacy in public-facing homes. But socially, it served as a symbol of prestige: the larger and more detailed the Roshan, the higher the family’s perceived standing.

2. The Mashrabiya: A Recessed Whisper of Geometry and Grace

The Mashrabiya, by contrast, has a longer historical lineage, first appearing during the Abbasid period in the 9th century in Baghdad, and later refined in Cairo, Damascus, and Jerusalem. Unlike the Roshan, the Mashrabiya is recessed into the façade, forming part of the wall’s rhythm rather than breaking from it. It’s made using local cottonwood or sycamore, crafted into delicate wood turnings (known as khart in Arabic) and assembled into tight grids or flowing patterns.

Beyond ventilation and sun control, the Mashrabiya was also designed to cool spaces through passive evaporation: a water jug (zir) was often placed behind the screen, allowing moisture to cool the airflow entering the room. It’s a work of both environmental engineering and aesthetic delicacy — offering light and air, but also maintaining modesty and contemplation.

Unlike the showy Roshan, the Mashrabiya speaks in restraint and internal focus, often associated with urban modesty and spiritual architecture.

3. Functional Contrast and Climatic Intelligence

Functionally, both elements act as passive climate regulators, yet they are responses to different regional demands:

• In Jeddah’s coastal humidity and sun exposure, the Roshan extends to capture sea breezes and create deep shade.
• In Cairo’s dry heat, the Mashrabiya softens light and facilitates evaporative cooling.

Both operate on the same principle — controlled permeability — but the execution differs: Roshan is outward and generous, while Mashrabiya is inward and precise.

4. Cultural Symbolism and Urban Identity

In Jeddah, the Roshan has become an emblem of the city’s urban memory. Its presence in old neighborhoods like Al-Balad has been so central that UNESCO listed it as part of world heritage, and modern heritage campaigns have restored hundreds of them to revive a distinct Hejazi identity.

In contrast, the Mashrabiya in Cairo is tied to literature and gendered space — appearing frequently in the novels of Naguib Mahfouz, where it symbolizes the hidden, the forbidden, the internal drama of domestic life. In Orientalist paintings, it became an object of fascination — both aesthetic and exoticized.

5. Visual and Structural Comparison Based on the Illustration

In the provided architectural drawing:

• The Roshan is constructed in three major tiers:
  • Head: crowned with a combed wooden parapet.
  • Body: richly paneled wood with decorative motifs and enclosed compartments.
  • Base: diagonally braced supports, projecting out of the masonry.
  • The front includes a full-scale balustraded viewing panel, which can be opened or shaded.
• The Mashrabiya is cleaner in form, with:
  • A flat head cornice, recessed.
  • Triple arch windows with finely patterned lattice screens.
  • A narrow base, incorporated into the vertical rhythm of the wall.

In architectural language, the Roshan says: “I am here, and I see you.”
The Mashrabiya says: “I exist, but you will not see me.”

6. Pragmatic Analysis and Summary Table

From a pragmatic point of view, both elements offer timeless design intelligence. If reinterpreted today using CNC joinery or laser-cut steel, they could offer a new typology for climate-responsive façades — merging vernacular wisdom with contemporary sustainability.

Here is a comparative table to summarize key aspects:

Conclusion: Two Windows, One Philosophy

Though different in scale, material, and expression, both the Roshan and Mashrabiya are unified by a shared architectural ethic: to create shelter that breathes, hides, and reveals — in harmony with the human condition and climate. They are more than historic artifacts; they are blueprints for vernacular modernity, waiting to be revived in glass towers and desert homes alike.