622 - Part 2
After a week of setting and re-setting the bungalow to make it feel like home and most importantly worth living, I try to explore around the neighbourhood. In this age of social media, I admit to recluse to the good ol' ways of communication- Telephone/ mobile calls , handwritten letters , Yellow pages and telephone diaries. I have suffered through data loss , mobile thefts, virus attacks hence the logic to be an old school is backed up quite well! So, while looking up some names , checking some profiles , interacting with few neighbours - here's what I come across- The Defence Minister's elder son and his nuclear family are my next door's on one side and the business big wig's Hiranand Paliwal's big joint family on the other. Then there's old Mrs. Brown some bungalows away and apparently she was Grandma's only friend in Palm road.
After some condolences and "we're there if you need any help" , I return back home and finally settle down to make entries in my telephone diary and my personal diary as well. "This week passed away really quick or there was too much of work to realize the passage of time....". With the onset of a new sunrise, I officially step in to the Goa life or rather I should say recognize myself with the D'Costa life. After a breakfast of honey pancakes and milk , I sail out to the beautiful February Sun in the context of re-constructing the garden. Grandma loved pansies and Grandpa had a soft corner for frangipani , at least that's what my memories dictate me. As I flick out my cellphone to dial a nursery nearby, I am reminded of the telephone. I make a mental note to re-activate its connection back. Well, settling back into the ruins will take lot more time than I actually calculated it to be.
Setting up the garden took the major part of the day, so the telephone needs to wait to listen its rings back! With the evening left for further exploration, I venture into the study on the first floor. Grandpa as an architect, had almost put his heart and soul in reconstructing this part of the bungalow on his own. It speaks volumes of the British influence and seems straight out of a book at a glance. A big ceiling to floor window with the two sides lined with bookshelf. Though the bookshelf is almost empty in comparison to its size and number of books ratio, yet there are still few which managed to escape the downfall. The setting sun had cast a beautiful shade of rustic rays through the window on them. As my eyes skim through them, I find classics, some books on architecture authored by Grandpa and a black book with golden letters lock my eyes within those letters- 622. And my brain goes to flashback- these very 3 digits were there on the telephone too! Is this book and the telephone related to something? Intriguing indeed...
After some condolences and "we're there if you need any help" , I return back home and finally settle down to make entries in my telephone diary and my personal diary as well. "This week passed away really quick or there was too much of work to realize the passage of time....". With the onset of a new sunrise, I officially step in to the Goa life or rather I should say recognize myself with the D'Costa life. After a breakfast of honey pancakes and milk , I sail out to the beautiful February Sun in the context of re-constructing the garden. Grandma loved pansies and Grandpa had a soft corner for frangipani , at least that's what my memories dictate me. As I flick out my cellphone to dial a nursery nearby, I am reminded of the telephone. I make a mental note to re-activate its connection back. Well, settling back into the ruins will take lot more time than I actually calculated it to be.
Setting up the garden took the major part of the day, so the telephone needs to wait to listen its rings back! With the evening left for further exploration, I venture into the study on the first floor. Grandpa as an architect, had almost put his heart and soul in reconstructing this part of the bungalow on his own. It speaks volumes of the British influence and seems straight out of a book at a glance. A big ceiling to floor window with the two sides lined with bookshelf. Though the bookshelf is almost empty in comparison to its size and number of books ratio, yet there are still few which managed to escape the downfall. The setting sun had cast a beautiful shade of rustic rays through the window on them. As my eyes skim through them, I find classics, some books on architecture authored by Grandpa and a black book with golden letters lock my eyes within those letters- 622. And my brain goes to flashback- these very 3 digits were there on the telephone too! Is this book and the telephone related to something? Intriguing indeed...
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