I never met Zico after that day during the monsoons. Yesterday, my morning stroll took me to the same place where I had met Zico, a young boy, who plays the drums. Probably his window overlooks the Mandovi river and the Aguada bay. Probably he can see the water turn golden as he sees the sunset from his window. But yesterday, I didn’t meet Zico. Instead I saw this shrine, which perhaps had always been there. Fresh paint and festive hangings of white and blue seemed to have added life to this chapel, which had been lost in the moss and covered with overgrowing branches. The branches now being cut, I admired it in its pristine beauty… overlooking the bay, from the edge on the hill.