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Casa joy
Casa joy
Morjim, India
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Casa joy
Morjim, India
Firm
Type
STATUS
Built
YEAR
2026
SIZE
3000 sqft - 5000 sqft
Casa Joy
A Goan home built around memory, ritual and belonging
PROJECT PROFILE / FACT FILE
Project
Casa Joy — a private residence
Location
Morjim, Goa
Client
The Wadhwa Family
Typology
Residential architecture & interiors
Status
Completed
Year completed
2026
Design leads
Vinit Nikumbh & Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, Bricolage Bombay
Key ideas
Courtyards, indoor–outdoor continuity, a connecting bridge, reuse of cherished objects
Palette
Goan yellow façade, terracotta tile roofs, timber, stone, patterned tile floors
SHORT PROJECT DESCRIPTION (≈500 WORDS)
Not a Holiday Home — a Place to Belong
When a Delhi family decided to make Goa their permanent home, they were not looking for a holiday house by the sea. They were looking for a place to belong. That distinction shaped everything we did at Casa Joy.
As the founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, we have never believed a house begins with a plan. It begins with a conversation — about daily rituals, family histories, favourite objects, and the small, specific ways each person imagines living. A short walk from the coastline, on a long and linear site, Casa Joy was drawn out of those conversations rather than imposed upon them.
From the street, the house wears a bright yellow that belongs unmistakably to Goa — an immediate gesture of familiarity within its neighbourhood. Beyond that recognisable skin, terracotta-tiled roofs, carved timber eaves and wrought-iron balconies continue the vernacular conversation. But the real life of the house turns inward, around a series of courtyards that pull light, landscape and weather into the centre of everyday life. These are not decorative voids; they are active rooms without ceilings, where the family pauses, gathers and watches the day change.
We designed the house around its inhabitants’ routines. For one family member, a winding path that loops through the site became essential — a place for solitary morning walks. For another, a quiet study was carved out for reading and writing. Upstairs, a bridge links the private rooms, turning the simple act of moving between bedrooms into a small daily journey, and making the idea of connection literal.
Memory is built into the fabric. Cherished objects and materials carrying emotional weight were reinterpreted and folded into the architecture, so the interiors read as a continuation of the family’s story rather than a break from it. Materially, the house is warm and restrained — timber, stone, soft colour, handcrafted joinery, patterned tile underfoot — an atmosphere that feels lived-in rather than staged.
The vernacular is worn lightly but consistently. Pitched roofs in terracotta tile sit on carved timber rafters; deep eaves are trimmed with the scalloped white fascia of the old Goan-Portuguese house; wrought-iron balconies and reeded-glass shutters filter the coastal light. Underfoot, patterned tiles in ochre and soft blue draw geometry across the floor, and at dusk the yellow walls glow against the green of the garden. The house is recognisably of its place, yet unmistakably the family’s own.
Casa Joy is, finally, a house about transition: a move from one city to another, one chapter to the next. It responds not merely to a site, but to a life.
FEATURE ESSAY (≈1000 WORDS)
A House That Remembers
There is a particular kind of brief that does not announce itself as architecture at all. The Wadhwa family did not come to us asking for a villa in Goa. They came having decided to leave Delhi for good, and what they wanted — though it took many conversations to say it plainly — was somewhere to belong. As the founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, we took that as the actual commission. Casa Joy, in Morjim, a short walk from the sea, is our answer to it.
Can a new house carry an old life inside it?
Drawing from rituals, not styles
We began not with a plan but with habits. How does each person in this family take their morning? Where do they read, where do they retreat, what do they keep, what can they not bear to leave behind? On a long, linear site the house unfolds slowly, room after room, because the lives inside it unfold slowly too. For one member, a winding path looping through the garden became indispensable — a route for solitary walks and quiet observation. For another, a small study was made for reading and writing, private but never isolated. Architecture, drawn this way, becomes a transcript of routine rather than a catalogue of forms.
The courtyard as a room without a ceiling
At the heart of Casa Joy are courtyards. They are not ornamental gaps in the plan; they are the plan. Each one brings light, planting and changing weather deep into the house, so that the interiors stay tethered to the sky throughout the day. The yellow façade — drawn from the vibrant palette of Goan homes — gives the house its instant belonging on the street, while terracotta roofs and carved timber eaves continue the regional sentence. But cross the threshold and the building turns inward, organising daily life around these open-air pauses where the family gathers, argues, rests and watches the season turn.
What if connection — between people, rooms, and the landscape — were something you could actually walk across?
A bridge, and the idea of connection
Upstairs, a bridge links the private spaces of the home. It would have been simpler to run a corridor. We chose a bridge because it makes movement into a moment — a small crossing that reminds you the house is a set of relationships, not a stack of rooms. That single device carries the whole argument of the project: connection between family members, between indoor and outdoor, between the house and its garden. It is a circulation element that quietly refuses to be merely functional.
Memory made tangible
The most personal architecture is often the least visible. Throughout Casa Joy, existing possessions and materials carrying emotional significance were reinterpreted and built back into the fabric of the home, so that memory became a tactile part of the walls and not just a feeling in the air. The material language is deliberately warm and unspectacular — timber, stone, soft colour, patterned tile underfoot, joinery detailed by hand. We were not interested in a house that photographs as a statement. We wanted one that holds a morning well: light entering a courtyard, a walk along the garden path, a conversation across the bridge.
A vernacular worn lightly
How does a house belong to its street and to one family at the same time?
Goa has a strong architectural grammar, and we wanted Casa Joy to speak it without merely quoting it. The bright yellow façade is the most immediate gesture — the colour of the Portuguese-Goan house, instantly legible to every neighbour — but the conversation continues in the details: pitched roofs in terracotta tile carried on carved timber rafters, deep eaves trimmed with a scalloped white fascia, wrought-iron balconies, reeded-glass shutters that soften the coastal glare. Underfoot, patterned tiles in ochre and soft blue lay a quiet geometry through the rooms. These are not costume; they are the regional language spoken in the family’s own accent.
Restraint, here, was the discipline. It would have been easy to make a house that performs its Goan-ness, that photographs as a postcard. We were after something quieter and more durable — natural textures, timber surfaces, stone, soft colour and joinery detailed by hand, an atmosphere that feels lived-in from the first day rather than staged for the last. The architecture withdraws so that ordinary experience can come forward: morning light crossing a courtyard, the cool of a tiled floor underfoot, a book carried up the stair to the study, a conversation held halfway across the bridge. We trust those moments more than we trust any single dramatic gesture.
Casa Joy is, in the end, a house about transition — the passage from one city to another, one phase of a life to the next. It does not simply respond to a site. It responds to a family, and turns architecture into a vessel for memory, belonging and, exactly as its name promises, joy.
DEEP DIVE (≈300 WORDS)
The Bridge in the Yellow House
We could have drawn a corridor. Instead, at Casa Joy in Morjim, we drew a bridge — a short crossing on the upper floor that links the private rooms of the home. For us, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, that choice holds the entire project.
A corridor moves you. A bridge makes you aware that you are moving — that you are leaving one place and arriving at another. In a house built for a family relocating their whole life from Delhi to Goa, that small daily journey is not incidental. It is the architecture quietly rehearsing the larger transition the family themselves were making.
The bridge also makes a recurring idea literal. Casa Joy is organised around connection: courtyards that connect the interior to the sky, a yellow façade that connects the house to its Goan street, a winding garden path that connects one member of the family to their own solitude. The bridge connects the people to each other. You cannot walk through this house without crossing something.
Around it, the house stays warm and restrained — timber, stone, soft colour, patterned tile, and a collection of cherished objects reinterpreted and built back into the walls so that memory becomes something you can touch. Nothing here is staged for a photograph.
Even the courtyards play the same game. Each is a room without a ceiling, pulling the Goan sky, the rain and the changing light into the middle of the plan, so that the house stays tethered to the weather all day long.
That, finally, is what the bridge teaches. A home is not a stack of rooms. It is a set of relationships you move across, every day, without quite noticing — until an architect builds you a place to feel the crossing.
A Goan home built around memory, ritual and belonging
PROJECT PROFILE / FACT FILE
Project
Casa Joy — a private residence
Location
Morjim, Goa
Client
The Wadhwa Family
Typology
Residential architecture & interiors
Status
Completed
Year completed
2026
Design leads
Vinit Nikumbh & Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, Bricolage Bombay
Key ideas
Courtyards, indoor–outdoor continuity, a connecting bridge, reuse of cherished objects
Palette
Goan yellow façade, terracotta tile roofs, timber, stone, patterned tile floors
SHORT PROJECT DESCRIPTION (≈500 WORDS)
Not a Holiday Home — a Place to Belong
When a Delhi family decided to make Goa their permanent home, they were not looking for a holiday house by the sea. They were looking for a place to belong. That distinction shaped everything we did at Casa Joy.
As the founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, we have never believed a house begins with a plan. It begins with a conversation — about daily rituals, family histories, favourite objects, and the small, specific ways each person imagines living. A short walk from the coastline, on a long and linear site, Casa Joy was drawn out of those conversations rather than imposed upon them.
From the street, the house wears a bright yellow that belongs unmistakably to Goa — an immediate gesture of familiarity within its neighbourhood. Beyond that recognisable skin, terracotta-tiled roofs, carved timber eaves and wrought-iron balconies continue the vernacular conversation. But the real life of the house turns inward, around a series of courtyards that pull light, landscape and weather into the centre of everyday life. These are not decorative voids; they are active rooms without ceilings, where the family pauses, gathers and watches the day change.
We designed the house around its inhabitants’ routines. For one family member, a winding path that loops through the site became essential — a place for solitary morning walks. For another, a quiet study was carved out for reading and writing. Upstairs, a bridge links the private rooms, turning the simple act of moving between bedrooms into a small daily journey, and making the idea of connection literal.
Memory is built into the fabric. Cherished objects and materials carrying emotional weight were reinterpreted and folded into the architecture, so the interiors read as a continuation of the family’s story rather than a break from it. Materially, the house is warm and restrained — timber, stone, soft colour, handcrafted joinery, patterned tile underfoot — an atmosphere that feels lived-in rather than staged.
The vernacular is worn lightly but consistently. Pitched roofs in terracotta tile sit on carved timber rafters; deep eaves are trimmed with the scalloped white fascia of the old Goan-Portuguese house; wrought-iron balconies and reeded-glass shutters filter the coastal light. Underfoot, patterned tiles in ochre and soft blue draw geometry across the floor, and at dusk the yellow walls glow against the green of the garden. The house is recognisably of its place, yet unmistakably the family’s own.
Casa Joy is, finally, a house about transition: a move from one city to another, one chapter to the next. It responds not merely to a site, but to a life.
FEATURE ESSAY (≈1000 WORDS)
A House That Remembers
There is a particular kind of brief that does not announce itself as architecture at all. The Wadhwa family did not come to us asking for a villa in Goa. They came having decided to leave Delhi for good, and what they wanted — though it took many conversations to say it plainly — was somewhere to belong. As the founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, we took that as the actual commission. Casa Joy, in Morjim, a short walk from the sea, is our answer to it.
Can a new house carry an old life inside it?
Drawing from rituals, not styles
We began not with a plan but with habits. How does each person in this family take their morning? Where do they read, where do they retreat, what do they keep, what can they not bear to leave behind? On a long, linear site the house unfolds slowly, room after room, because the lives inside it unfold slowly too. For one member, a winding path looping through the garden became indispensable — a route for solitary walks and quiet observation. For another, a small study was made for reading and writing, private but never isolated. Architecture, drawn this way, becomes a transcript of routine rather than a catalogue of forms.
The courtyard as a room without a ceiling
At the heart of Casa Joy are courtyards. They are not ornamental gaps in the plan; they are the plan. Each one brings light, planting and changing weather deep into the house, so that the interiors stay tethered to the sky throughout the day. The yellow façade — drawn from the vibrant palette of Goan homes — gives the house its instant belonging on the street, while terracotta roofs and carved timber eaves continue the regional sentence. But cross the threshold and the building turns inward, organising daily life around these open-air pauses where the family gathers, argues, rests and watches the season turn.
What if connection — between people, rooms, and the landscape — were something you could actually walk across?
A bridge, and the idea of connection
Upstairs, a bridge links the private spaces of the home. It would have been simpler to run a corridor. We chose a bridge because it makes movement into a moment — a small crossing that reminds you the house is a set of relationships, not a stack of rooms. That single device carries the whole argument of the project: connection between family members, between indoor and outdoor, between the house and its garden. It is a circulation element that quietly refuses to be merely functional.
Memory made tangible
The most personal architecture is often the least visible. Throughout Casa Joy, existing possessions and materials carrying emotional significance were reinterpreted and built back into the fabric of the home, so that memory became a tactile part of the walls and not just a feeling in the air. The material language is deliberately warm and unspectacular — timber, stone, soft colour, patterned tile underfoot, joinery detailed by hand. We were not interested in a house that photographs as a statement. We wanted one that holds a morning well: light entering a courtyard, a walk along the garden path, a conversation across the bridge.
A vernacular worn lightly
How does a house belong to its street and to one family at the same time?
Goa has a strong architectural grammar, and we wanted Casa Joy to speak it without merely quoting it. The bright yellow façade is the most immediate gesture — the colour of the Portuguese-Goan house, instantly legible to every neighbour — but the conversation continues in the details: pitched roofs in terracotta tile carried on carved timber rafters, deep eaves trimmed with a scalloped white fascia, wrought-iron balconies, reeded-glass shutters that soften the coastal glare. Underfoot, patterned tiles in ochre and soft blue lay a quiet geometry through the rooms. These are not costume; they are the regional language spoken in the family’s own accent.
Restraint, here, was the discipline. It would have been easy to make a house that performs its Goan-ness, that photographs as a postcard. We were after something quieter and more durable — natural textures, timber surfaces, stone, soft colour and joinery detailed by hand, an atmosphere that feels lived-in from the first day rather than staged for the last. The architecture withdraws so that ordinary experience can come forward: morning light crossing a courtyard, the cool of a tiled floor underfoot, a book carried up the stair to the study, a conversation held halfway across the bridge. We trust those moments more than we trust any single dramatic gesture.
Casa Joy is, in the end, a house about transition — the passage from one city to another, one phase of a life to the next. It does not simply respond to a site. It responds to a family, and turns architecture into a vessel for memory, belonging and, exactly as its name promises, joy.
DEEP DIVE (≈300 WORDS)
The Bridge in the Yellow House
We could have drawn a corridor. Instead, at Casa Joy in Morjim, we drew a bridge — a short crossing on the upper floor that links the private rooms of the home. For us, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, that choice holds the entire project.
A corridor moves you. A bridge makes you aware that you are moving — that you are leaving one place and arriving at another. In a house built for a family relocating their whole life from Delhi to Goa, that small daily journey is not incidental. It is the architecture quietly rehearsing the larger transition the family themselves were making.
The bridge also makes a recurring idea literal. Casa Joy is organised around connection: courtyards that connect the interior to the sky, a yellow façade that connects the house to its Goan street, a winding garden path that connects one member of the family to their own solitude. The bridge connects the people to each other. You cannot walk through this house without crossing something.
Around it, the house stays warm and restrained — timber, stone, soft colour, patterned tile, and a collection of cherished objects reinterpreted and built back into the walls so that memory becomes something you can touch. Nothing here is staged for a photograph.
Even the courtyards play the same game. Each is a room without a ceiling, pulling the Goan sky, the rain and the changing light into the middle of the plan, so that the house stays tethered to the weather all day long.
That, finally, is what the bridge teaches. A home is not a stack of rooms. It is a set of relationships you move across, every day, without quite noticing — until an architect builds you a place to feel the crossing.
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