Melik Azaryants House Apartment Building

The revenue house of merchant Alexander Melik-Azaryants on Shota Rustaveli Avenue is a historical landmark, deeply entwined with Tbilisi’s architectural and cultural identity. A symbol of the city’s central artery and a vivid embodiment of early 20th-century design, this building stands not only as a feat of engineering but as a monument of personal tragedy and civic generosity.

Constructed at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, the building was a marvel of innovation in its time. It was the first in Tbilisi to be equipped with independent electricity and a private water supply—an embodiment of the technological progress sweeping across Europe. Its location, on the edge of a ravine, necessitated an advanced foundation. The entire structure was supported by a lead-reinforced framework, a pioneering technique in Georgia that would later be adopted for construction in high-risk zones. This foresight proved vital: in the 1970s, when Shota Rustaveli Avenue underwent expansion, the building’s sturdy construction saved it from demolition.

Today, the House of Melik-Azaryants hosts the A. Shalikashvili Pantomime Theatre—one of the most visited cultural venues in the Georgian capital—alongside several cafés, a clothing boutique, a bank, and leased office spaces. Yet beneath its vibrant present lies a story marked by generosity, sorrow, and quiet resilience.

Alexander Melik-Azaryants was not merely a wealthy merchant and oil magnate; he was a philanthropist and civic leader. As a member of the Armenian Charitable Society, he invested deeply in Tiflis (as Tbilisi was then known), funding hospitals, orphanages, and schools. Though Armenian by heritage, he regarded Tiflis as his second homeland and poured his resources into its development.

In 1882, Melik-Azaryants was blessed with a daughter, Takui, his only child and the light of his life. Left to raise her alone, he spared no effort in ensuring her childhood was filled with joy, care, and security. The name “Takui” means “queen” in Armenian, a fitting title for the girl who was the very center of her father’s universe. Her life, however, was tragically brief. At the age of 22, Takui fell gravely ill and soon passed away, leaving her father heartbroken and directionless.

The house, now an architectural destination for visitors from around the world, was originally meant to be Takui’s dowry—a grand home for a future that never came to pass. Stricken with grief, Melik-Azaryants chose to donate the building to charity, but not before modifying its façade with deeply symbolic features: plaster wreaths reminiscent of funeral garlands, and teardrop-shaped windows, subtle tributes to a lost daughter.

His heartbreak did not quell his spirit of giving. On the contrary, Melik-Azaryants intensified his philanthropic efforts, financing the construction of a large municipal hospital that still operates today. Yet, with the rise of Soviet power, his fortune was seized. His home, like all his properties, was nationalized. He was granted a single modest room where he would live out his remaining days in obscurity and poverty, far from the splendor he once knew.

The house was designed by St. Petersburg architect N. Obolonsky in the Art Nouveau style, and it remains a faithful example of this aesthetic. Following Takui’s death, however, the building underwent slight alterations to reflect the merchant’s mourning.

Like many elite residences of the era, the building’s design was meticulous. Its location—perched on the edge of a ravine—necessitated innovative engineering. The foundation was anchored with a lead frame, and high-fired bricks were used throughout the structure to ensure durability. The result was a massive edifice spanning nearly an entire block of Old Tbilisi. Rising four to five stories above ground, it also extends several levels underground. Its exceptionally high ceilings lend the structure a sense of solemn grandeur.

Legend tells of wealthy friends of Melik-Azaryants tossing handfuls of gold coins into the foundation pit as a gesture of good fortune. Ironically, the house brought no such happiness to its creator.

Although intended as a home for his daughter, the building ultimately became a living memorial. The plaster wreaths adorning the upper floors mirror the solemnity of funerary garlands. The windows—particularly those shaped like teardrops—are a striking and poetic detail. Some claim they resemble butterfly wings, fluttering in silent sorrow. Whether tears or wings, they evoke a shared sense of loss.

The House of A. Melik-Azaryants was long the only building in Tbilisi to offer its tenants running water and electricity. It housed a pharmacy, barbershop, photography studio, shops, and even featured a private courtyard and garden. A special parking area was reserved for horse-drawn carriages. Designed as a luxury income property, it catered to wealthy tenants, with four subterranean levels reserved for storage and cellars.

Over more than a century, the building has accumulated countless legends. Locals often avoid it, whispering of a dark aura and haunted halls. Some claim to have seen the ghost of Melik-Azaryants himself, wandering the rooms in search of his daughter. Others swear Takui’s spirit still peers out from the teardrop windows. Known colloquially as the “Tiflis Passage,” the house has become a magnet for tourists drawn not just to its architectural beauty, but to the poignant narrative it embodies.

Located at 37 Rustaveli Avenue, one of Tbilisi’s main thoroughfares, the House of A. Melik-Azaryants is easy to reach via public transportation. The most convenient option is the metro. The closest station, Rustaveli (on the red line), is just a few minutes’ walk from the building.

Once a gift of love, transformed by grief, and preserved through vision and innovation, the House of A. Melik-Azaryants continues to echo with memory. It stands as a solemn yet vibrant reminder of a father’s devotion, a city’s evolving history, and the enduring power of architecture to tell stories words cannot.