#MayRants – 170505

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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

#LifeOfAnArchitectureStudent

#GoanGaana

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#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.

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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.

Breathe.
Life is beautiful.
Alhamdulillah.

Conspiracy

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It’s been 9 months since I have been interning. First in Kochi, now in Goa. 9 months of exploration. New places, new people, new experiences.

But you know what has been reoccurring all these 9 months? Art. In the weirdest of ways.

I used to be a pretty good one at art when I was little. I still have memories of my dad, teaching me how to draw an elephant and a lotus, telling me his stories about art. He would never have imagined his eldest daughter to pick art (read architecture), for a profession out of all the trades of which she was master of none.

Then college happened. 3 years where everything was undermined. The heart was told that you weren’t good enough. It fought in the beginning, but then gradually fell away into despairs of self doubt.

With the commencement of 4th year, I moved to Kochi. Away from everything. And guess what? Life kept throwing me into art. I met a girl who told me she was an artist. in the mornings, when I was about to go to office I would see her, with a bandana on her head, playing with colors. I stared at it from a distance. I listened to my heart beat. That weekend, I went home and brought back a sketchbook which was about an year old, but the pages pristine. I started with sticking the little things that I collected – train tickets, roses and abstractions. One day I went to Fort Kochi, walked it’s paths for the first time, experienced it’s charms, just took it all in. But it was too much for my little heart, that night I sketched away the beautiful memories, and slept in peace knowing that I had locked them away. Knowing that they would now, never fade away. That was the beginning of Kochi Kadhakal. The beginning of so many beautiful stories.

6 months later, Goa happened. And I still find myself experiencing art in ways that at times take my breath away.

For the first time, I find myself believing the words of Paulo Coelho,

And when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it. 

 

I do not know what I want, but now I very well know that the universe is conspiring for something beautiful.

 

Time

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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.