#MayRants – 170505


Houses of Goa on papers today.

2 years back, during my trip from college to Goa, I remember standing here in front of this peculiar structure made of laterite in the middle of a crossroad, heart heavy, when we realised we couldn’t go in. Then we fooled around the area clicking external pictures of the structure and trying to snap some internal pictures of the Nisha Play school which is as interesting a structure as this, through its openings. That day, we had decided we would come back here again. For a case study which happened in Pondicherry instead.

But here I am, today, taking in the sheer beauty of one man’s illustrated tribute to the Indo-Portugese Architecture of Goa. Houses of Goa, is a unique museum which documents and showcases the houses in Goa which are a prime expression of the Goan identity. Built as a traffic island, resembling a ship, with the Nisha Play school to one side and the Architect, Gerard De Cunha’s office which looks like it has come straight out of a Mario Miranda postcard on other side, contributing to its wholeness.

Another day, I shall swim in this museum’s internal depths. In sha allah! Because this opens only at 10, and I have to get to the office now. Time and time, I have to remind myself how I have come to Goa as an intern and not a traveller.


#NotATraveller #StillAnIntern



#MayRants – 170504

So today, I don’t have any sketch.
But I have a smile on my face.
I woke up today, irritated with myself for wasting away today morning and yesterday morning, missing my morning walks. I had promised myself I would make the best use of the last month and I myself had broken it. And that irritation stayed with me for most of the day, even at office, until my Sir said the golden words, ‘Let’s go to the beach, chalo! ‘

I jumped away from my laptop, packed all of my stuff and off we went to the beach. Candolim. Nothing could douse my mood today, not even a guy in a scooter ramming into me when we were taking a turn on our scooter. It was about 5 and the sky was beautifully heavy with clouds, hiding away the sun.

Single sight at the crashing waves, I stilled. The water had a little green tint to it to my left side, and on the right, it was glittering in gold basking in the sun’s rays.

Beaches in Goa are something else, I tell you. And these are the North ones. I have heard the south ones are so much more prettier and I have only been to Colva beach down South.

The evening flew, playing with the waves, feeling the ground slip away from under my feet, watching the colours of the beach, the people playing cricket, building sandhouses, the dolphins jumping about in the depths of the waves (I dunno if I saw one, I am never sure of these things, but my colleagues did) and having a good enough conversation after so long. What more did I want? Nothing. Nothing at all.
The day concluded with snacking at the Saligao Circle listening to my architects talk about pioneers in the field in the most casual of settings. And that’s when I realised how blessed I am to be here.

Allah has different ways of blessing you. Think about it. The very situation you are in, which you might think is bad, might not actually be in the long run. Or it could be, but eventually everything is a learning experience. This is what makes life so beautiful. All sorrows and joys. All regrets and satisfactions. All loneness and companies. All smiles and tears. All successes and mistakes.

Life is beautiful.

#MayRants – 170502


It’s a shame that 4 months have passed since I have landed in Goa. So in order to save myself from swimming in the depths of regret of not seeing Goa enough once I go back, I had decided I would put my last month, to good use, see places that I had wanted to see. Maybe lock away a piece of them for me in my little sketchbook.

So as decided, today I battled with my bed, got up and started with a little morning walk around my area. Beautiful Sucoor. Birds chirping, dogs barking (which did give me a little trouble), I walked towards the beautiful Jain temple near our place for a perfect start.  Clad in white marble, I remember going into the temple with Neeru, a few months back, when I was still new in Goa. The play of light, on the Petra dura floors, the intricacy of designs was just mind blowing, quite typical of Jain temples. The place smelled of the incense sticks and I watched people going in and out from the temple, for a long time. I listened to them sing hymns. I just watched, listened and sketched.

And it was beautiful.




It’s been 2 years.

2 years ago, I remember walking down this way, taking in the beauty of the Mandovi, the simplicity of the lighthouse and the greens, complimenting the cultural hub of Goa, Kala Academy, one of the masterpieces of the architect Charles Correa.

We were then, 2 years into being students of the vastness called Architecture, laughing our hearts away, clicking endlessly fake candids exploiting the beauty around us.

Who knew, 2 years later, I would stand at this very spot, in the very clothes, looking away into the Mandovi, miles away from those people, reminiscing about these moments?

This time, is a funny thing.
It takes you to places, puts you in situations, make you experience things that you never even dreamt of.

Maybe another two years down the lane, I may have something more interesting and intriguing to share. Well, who knows?

May I have the good fortune to do so. In Sha Allah.

The Bambolim Anganwadi


The innocent smiles, the curious eyes, the instant friendliness and the connection. The Bambolim Anganwadi, sits in the shade of a tree, alone, transforming the whole space, with its red walls, and solid form. The air is thick with laughter and happiness, warming your heart to no extent. The children running and playing around, reading out from the walls full of charts, tending to their little backyard garden, or just looking at you with those curious eyes, and then the lips blossom into a sweet smile, accepting you.

The warmth of their smile, I felt like I had already achieved enough for the day.

It’s beautiful how they accept everything so easily, without any apprehension, with all its innocence.

I felt so welcome.

In a land, foreign to me.