Casa Eva, the 300-year-old Indo-Portuguese eponym of Avó Eva, sits in the heart of South Goa, on the edge of the Arabian Sea, beneath the groves of coconut and mango.
At a time when extractive tourism and unchecked development pose an existential threat to the region, Casa Eva is slowly being readapted as an artist residency and community space by the Olio team.
Below is my love letter to her (re)becoming, followed by a photo diary of my transformative time spent under her Mangalore tile roof!
HER DOUBLE DOORS SWING OPEN TO REVEAL BUTTERFLIES
DRUNK IN BOUGANVILLEA BUSHES
WHILE THE HORNBILL CACKLES FROM THE TAMARIND TREE
AND SMOKE CURLS FROM THE CHARCOAL OVEN
WHERE AVÓ EVA BAKES BEBINKA
LAYER BY LAYER
LAYER BY LAYER
LAYER BY LAYER
LAYER
HER ARMS WRAP AROUND THE GRANDFATHER
WHO READS THE O’HERALDO
IN THE SUNNY SPOT
ON THE BALCAÕ
THE ELDEST OF SIX
THE BEARER OF RESPONSIBILITY
THE NAME ON THE MAILBOX
HE WATCHES AS MEN SCALE HER SCARRED TREES
WITH HARNESSED FEET AND GRIPPED MACHETES
THEY HANG BENEATH THE PALMS
AND IN ONE SWIFT MOTION
MOTHER’S MILK DROPS
LIKE RAIN FROM THE SKY
HER TENDER JUICES
SIPPED AND SHARED
RAFTERS OF THE SAME BARK
SUPPORT OUR SANCTUARY FROM WITHIN
WHILE RAYS BEAM THROUGH THE COWL TILES
CASTING SHADOWS ON SUN-BAKED COBWEBS
AS GOLDEN LIGHT FLOODS THE COURTYARD
AND ORGANIC HUES RADIATE FROM HER EPICENTER
HER HEART
HER SOUL
HER BONES COMPOSED OF MANY ELEMENTS
INDIGENOUS TO THIS EARTH:
LATERITE LIME TEAK TERRACOTTA
THE SAME TILES THAT SHELTER US
FROM HEAVY RAINS THAT HIT RED CLAY
AND REPLENISH THE SOURCE OF LIFE
HARVESTED FROM HER BOSOM
SHE WAS LOOTED OF HER HEIRLOOMS
ROBBED OF HER RATTAN
DURING THE DECADE OF ABANDONMENT
HER HOLLOW SIGH WAS CAST TO THE JUNGLE
CARRIED BY THE SEASIDE WINDS
CAPTURED BY THE DIASPORA
THROUGH THE BOWELS OF BUREAUCRACY THEY GO
TO RESIST THE STATUS QUO
WE ENABLE HER EMERGENCE AND SHE ENABLES OURS
SO LONG AS WE RESPECT THE GRANDMOTHER
WHO LIVED WITH SAUDADE
TO RETURN
TO THE RED CLAY
WHERE HER HUSBAND LIES
BENEATH THE CHIKOO TREE
DOWN THE LONG DRIVEWAY
IN THE FIRST WARD
WHERE GRAVEL CRACKS BENEATH TIRES
AS HANDHELD HORNS HONK:
PAÕ WITH DINNER TONIGHT, CHILDREN
WE LIVE WITH THE SPIRITS
WHO INHABIT
WHO PROTECT
WHO REMEMBER
WHEN HER FLOORS WERE MADE OF DUNG
WHEN BABIES WERE BAPTIZED BENEATH HER ALTER
WHEN THE EMPIRE WAS AT HER FRONT STEPS
WE STARE AT THE SAME ROOF
COUNT THE SAME SHEEP
TIL SLUMBER ENFOLDS US
IN HER WOMB
IN HER ECOSYSTEM
IN HER SYMPHONY
THAT SEEPS THROUGH THE CRACKS
NO NEED FOR AN ALARM!
AVE MARIA ENTERS THE MOSQUITO NET
MASS IS UNFOLDING
ANOTHER FEST DAY, IS IT?
MAY WE ALL MELT INTO HER MARBLE FLOORS
MAY WE ALL CHERISH WHAT IS BEING BUILT
MAY WE ALL HONOR THE NEXT SEVEN GENERATIONS
TO COME
TO PLAY
TO PRESERVE
ALL ARE WELCOME IN THIS SPACE
TO EXPLORE
TO UNFOLD
TO INTEGRATE
ALL ARE WELCOME IN THIS SPACE
Avó Eva & Avô Chico on the verandah (don’t be mistaken - this is Chico’s look of joy)
PHOTO GALLERY (JULY - DECEMBER 2025)
