Casa de Carvalho

Chapter 1

Head buzzing with a dull headache, I opened the cab door and plopped on the back seat, dumped the files and my bag alongside and returned the smile and greeting of the Uber driver.

He said "Ma'am, we shall reach our destination in half an hours' time, provided there is no traffic jam on our route."

Can we fly somehow--- "it's ok, but please mind the potholes."

I rested my head against the head rest.

I contemplated how easily my boss had sanctioned a week long leave with so many issues pending –he must have noticed the change in me and thought I really needed a break. Gosh I was starving for one internally.

The moment I closed my eyes the events of the past few weeks flashed before my eyes.

It was 8th May 2013,  a Wednesday, a weekday, the day I'm home by 7 pm. As usual, unlocked the apartment door and called out to mama.

It was strange not to find her fussing around as soon as I was back from work like any other day.

"Zelia, get fresh, I have baked your favourite banana cake." That was just yesterday isn't it?

I saw her sleeping peacefully on her bed—how strange--this is time for her novenas—I walked up to her and gently touched her forehead to check if she was down with fever . I shuddered—I felt as if I've touched ice.

I called up Dr Mathews immediately.

He told me she passed away in the afternoon due to a silent heart attack.

He removed his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief.

"She must have been in a deep slumber during the fatal episode Zelia, looks like she never felt the pain. Mrs Nancy Menezes was an old and dear patient of mine; I have seen her struggle through her youth to raise a vivacious, intelligent and beautiful—Miss Zelia Menezes. She never remarried after her husband's death; maybe the thought of you getting neglected somewhere down the line." He sighed "May Lord Jesus grant her eternal peace."

Dr Mathews gave me a warm hug and left.

Mama was my world, my pillar of strength——she was my only family after Dad—and now I'm all alone.

After the funeral rites and endless condolences from friends I resumed my duty of a journalist, delving myself in whatever assignments coming my way.

This numb headache has lingered on for days. Evon; my closest friend, my soul sister tried convincing me to pop some pills, but somehow I have forever hated the feeling of pills passing down my throat. Urgh.

Sudden jerk of the cab halting brought me back to senses. There I was in front of the entrance of my apartment on Carter Road, Bandra (West)—the queen of suburbs of Mumbai.

"Ma'am, we're home." He said with a smile. I grabbed all my stuff strewn on the backseat, paid the bill and thanked the grinning driver and got out of the cab.

A cool breeze swept against my cheeks as I entered into my apartment.

After a quick shower, I strolled in the living room with a hot cup of ginger tea, my eyes sweeping over Mama's photo frame stirring that empty feeling deep down—which was strangely too deep to grasp the intensity.

I eased myself on the sofa and saw an envelope lying on the teapoy.

Last evening while having a walk on the Carter Road promenade, Evon had dunked it in my sling bag.

It reminded me of the flight I had to catch tomorrow early morning to the place where my Mama had met my Dad—to the place I had never ever been before and somehow believing there laid the cure of this deep set emptiness---Goa, a pint sized kaleidoscopic state with a blend of Indian and Portuguese cultures, sweetened with sea, sand, seafood and spirituality.