Tamilmozhi Poonga - Eyyil

Some ideas begin as plans.

This one began with our mom.

She loved community parks and believed strongly in the importance of public spaces—especially for women and children. To her, parks were places where people could step outside their routines, feel comfortable, and spend time together without needing to buy anything or belong to anything.

After she passed away, we wanted to do something that would keep her values alive in a real, everyday way. Building a community park felt right. Not something grand or symbolic—but something useful, welcoming, and lasting.

This is the story of how that idea slowly became a shared space.

This park started with a simple belief: public spaces matter.

Over time, we noticed how few safe, open spaces existed for families to simply be together. Most daily life happens indoors or around busy streets. There are limited places where children can play freely, where women feel comfortable lingering, and where neighbors can pause without an agenda.

Our mom often spoke about how important such spaces were. She saw parks not as extras, but as essentials—places that quietly support everyday life.

This park is our way of carrying that belief forward.

It is a tribute to her, but it is also for everyone who uses it: children running around after school, parents watching from a bench, elders enjoying a quiet moment, and neighbors meeting each other for the first time.

Before thinking about slides, benches, or pathways, we spent time thinking about how this place should feel.

We asked ourselves:

• Would this space feel safe and welcoming?
• Would people want to stay, not just pass through?
• Would it work for different ages at the same time?

We wanted the park to be calm, open, and easy to use. Nothing overwhelming. Nothing excessive. Just a space that invites people in naturally.

Those early questions shaped every decision that followed.

Designing the park took more thought than we expected—and that turned out to be a good thing.

We paid attention to:

• How people would enter and move through the space?
• Where children might naturally gather?
• Where seating would feel comfortable and visible?
• How open areas and play areas could coexist?

Just as important were the things we chose not to include. We avoided clutter. We avoided over-designing. We chose simplicity over features that might look impressive but age poorly.

Every choice was guided by one question:

Will this make the space more welcoming and easier to use?

We didn't want the park to feel loud or overly themed.

Instead, we leaned into:

• Natural colors and materials
• Clean lines and open sightlines

Even small details—signage, lettering, and layout—were treated with care. These details don't draw attention to themselves, but they quietly shape how people experience the space.

This park was built for the community, but it was also shaped by observing everyday life.

Some of the most important design choices were subtle:

• Seating placed where caregivers can easily watch children
• Clear visibility across the park

These details don't stand out—but they make the difference between a park that's visited and one that's truly used.

This project taught us a lot.

• Simple designs require more thought, not less
• Things almost always take longer than expected
• Small decisions have a big impact
• Listening matters more than perfect planning

Most importantly, we learned that a park is not finished when construction ends. It becomes complete only when people begin to use it in their own ways.

Today, the park feels alive.

Children play in ways we never planned for.

Parents linger longer than they expected.

Neighbors greet each other more often.

Some of the best moments are the quiet ones—an evening walk, a shared bench, a child laughing without being rushed.

Seeing the park used this way reminds us why we started.

This is our first park, but it won't be the last.

This space has become our blueprint—not a fixed design, but a shared philosophy. Every future park we build will reflect its own neighborhood, but the core idea will remain the same:

Create spaces that welcome people in and give them reasons to stay.

If this park makes daily life a little easier, a little lighter, or a little more connected, then it is doing exactly what our mom believed public spaces should do.

This post is part of our Community Park Stories series, where we document the ideas, decisions, and lessons behind each park we build.