A young couple finds their place in a 140-year-old Goan home

The house came with memories of its own. Of nuns, writers, schoolchildren and families whose names had been forgotten but whose presence persisted in things left behind: old chairs and mirrors, teak and rosewood furniture that had travelled far. The couple kept much of what the previous owners had discarded. Even a pair of strange, beautiful hands salvaged from a broken sculpture, its hands still reaching, still wanting. It matched their philosophy of a community held together by small exchanges. Meera didn’t want a neatly fenced Goa compound where no one ever knocked on your door. She wanted christenings and birthday-party invites, tables where neighbours, stories, and food came together.

Beautiful Homes: This house has so much history. How do you bring something new into it? How did it start to feel like yours?

Meera Ganapathi: Many houses in Goa now have the same cupboards, cane furniture, and sage green or soft blue colours. It’s lovely, but it’s starting to look like one version of a Goan house. We liked parts of that minimal look, but I didn’t want this house to lose its character.

Then on a trip to Mexico, we saw old houses that didn’t mute their colour schemes. They embraced colour and culture and made it look cool. It inspired us to add more pops of colour, temple-style striped floors, vibrant paintings, a mix of chairs, and new lamps. The house remained itself, but we added a bit of us. Almost like the house is growing with us. 

BH: What lives on your desk right now?

MG: A cat sculpture of my pet Flea, who passed away two years ago. I feel like he is a shadow, always with me. Then there’s a picture of my son and me, which I’ve stolen from Ayyapa’s desk. A little vase I picked up from Denmark which looks like a river frozen mid-flow. Inside it are handmade bookmarks from my friend Piyal that look like little flowers. There are books I’m reading, hope to read, or have abandoned. Some art materials. And a lamp Ayyapa placed there for me, which is perfect. The light is warm, smooth, flattering and it gives a softness to the garden.

BH: What about your shelf? Do you see your shelf as telling a story? 

MG: When we moved into this house, we were clear that we wanted to add some of ourselves while keeping what belonged to the people who lived here before. So, the shelf feels more like an album of the house, and of us.

BH: Is there something here on the shelf that only makes sense if someone knows the two of you together?

MG: There’s a sad little cow that was in the house we lived in before this. It belonged to another piece of art that broke into pieces. I was pregnant then and probably a bit emotional, so I insisted we couldn’t get rid of it. We had to keep him. It’s something only the two of us know.