O único poema de Adeodato Barreto, em concani
Bekaryanc
Ganthá dongrá patlean
Súryá uttún yetá,
Aplyá bangrá-kensán
Dogdogtá.
Sabar bangrá-zori
Tujim kirnam distái:
Ekuch durboryanchi
Guirestái.
Zaityá fudlyá tempá
Amché agé-ponngé
Taca “Suryá-Devá”
Munntalé:
Doryá-laguim vossún
Fantyá-pará vellar
Kori tokli moddun,
Nomoscar:
“Zoxim pilám daktim
Combiê-pakám-khalá
Zoxém avoi laguim
Daktém balloc nidta,
“Toxém amim”, ballocám,
tugê cuxic tencun
guetão adar amcám
Ani gunn.
Côro
Goenché tsakór, uttái!
Sorgar uzvadd zaló!
Súryá uttún ailó!
Báir sorái!
Tumchêo cuddolyô gheún
Bollán dornir honddyái
Tanchê torçadi korún
Handar maryái.
Amchyá bekaryanchá
razvotech’vell ailó:
Bekari, ubé ráum-yá
Sounsar amchó!
Aos desempregados
Por trás da cordilheira
Nasce o sol, e derrama
A sua barba soalheira
Em flama.
Fios e fios d’ouro
Formam a tua radiação:
Dos pobres, o tesouro
Da salvação.
Em tempos que já lá vão,
Os nossos antepassados
Ao “Deus-Sol” então
Vinculados:
Indo ao pé do mar,
Ao raiar o dia,
Diziam, ao dobrar
Em cortesia:
“Tal como o pintinho
Sob as asas da galinha,
Dorme o menininho
nos braços da mãezinha,
“Também nós,” filhotes,
A ti aconchegados
Fruímos dos teus dotes
E demais predicados.
Côro
Erga-se, ó braçal goês!
Já se fez luz no céu!
O sol rompeu o véu!
P’ra frente, sem revés!
Com as suas enxadas
Furem o solo com ardor;
Façam delas espadas,
Ombreiem-nas com vigor.
Dos nossos pés-rapados
Chegou a hora prima:
De pé, ó desempregados,
O mundo nos arrima!
(Tradução de Óscar de Noronha, Setembro de 2021)
O único poema de Adeodato Barreto, em concani
Numa casual leitura da história da literatura concani[1] fui surpreendido pelo poema ‘Bekaryanc’, de Adeodato Barreto (1905-1937),[2] porventura o único escrito em concani por essa figura ímpar da literatura luso-goesa e o qual consta d’O Livro da Vida.[3]
Porquê em concani – aos 30 anos de idade – e em Portugal?
Não consta que Adeodato Barreto tenha tido actividade literária nos primeiros 18 anos da sua vida que passou em Goa, então Índia Portuguesa. No entanto, com redobrada coragem e consciência, conjuntamente com alguns colegas goeses em Coimbra, não só criou o Partido Nacionalista Indiano e o Instituto Indiano anexo à Faculdade de Letras, mas também fundou o periódico Índia Nova[4] e as edições Swatwa. A sua actividade visava a propaganda do humanismo e civilização oriental, cujos elementos o grupo aprendera com intelectuais europeus, mormente Romain Rolland e Sylvain Lévi.
Adeodato Barreto exerceu, sucessivamente, as funções de professor e de escrivão de Direito em Aljustrel. Teve iniciativas no ramo de instrução (inclusive um curso de Esperanto); fundou e dirigiu o semanário Círculo, a que se associaram vários escritores do País; e foi assíduo colaborador dos jornais Seara Nova e Diabo. Reuniu a sua prosa jornalística em Civilização Hindu. Autodomínio, tolerância, humanismo, síntese (Lisboa: Ed. de Seara Nova, 1935); e, postumamente, foi publicado O Livro da Vida. Cânticos Indianos (Nova Goa: Tip. Sadananda, 1940)[5].
Sendo esse o ideário do grupo luso-goês, era natural que quisessem salientar a língua e cultura vernácula de Goa. É o que se deduz do seguinte apelo publicado no referido periódico: “Aos nossos leitores que tenham a rara felicidade de saber escrever em concani, pedimos especialmente o favor de colaborarem nesta página que será consagrada exclusivamente à defesa e utilização culta dessa língua.”[6]
Ora, esse plano não vingou, pois o periódico parecia ter mais promotores, aliás bem-intencionados, do que colaboradores proficientes na língua concani! É que os goeses, já desde o período pré-português, haviam sobremaneira usado o concani como veículo de comunicação oral, sendo o marata a língua cultural dos hindus de Goa, tal como o foi, mais tarde, o idioma luso, em relação à elite católica.[7] E se foi somente por gosto de escrever na sua língua materna que Adeodato Barreto se lançou em concani, fê-lo seis anos depois de fechar o Índia Nova, e não constando que tenha tido intenções de continuar a fazê-lo.
Como língua nativa da estreita faixa costeira do Concão, o concani tem diversos dialectos e a fortuna de ser expresso em caracteres romanos, devanagáricos, canareses, malaialeses e perso-árabes. Ora, ‘Bekaryanc’ aparece num dialecto misto de salcetano e bardezano e em caracteres romanos; não emprega a ortografia padronizada, pois, pelo menos no romano, ela não existia na altura; e, sem se perder em preciosismo vocabular, apresenta versificação mais ou menos regular.[8] O Poeta, na sua tentativa de remediar uma carência histórica e melhor realçar a identidade luso-goesa, demonstra um entranhado amor à terra e ao povo.
Não é portanto sem razão que dele diz Ruy Sant’Elmo, no prefácio a O Livro da Vida: “Longe da Índia, onde nasceu, em contacto com um meio europeu, jamais perdeu as características, sentimentais e mentais, que constituíam o seu ethos originário. Adeodato Barreto permaneceu sempre, no fundo, um oriental. A ausência do torrão, embora num país onde era estimado, onde triunfou, e onde constituíu família, tinha para ele o ressaibo amargo de um exílio forçado.”[9]
Será que foi só a partir desse “exílio forçado” que Adeodato Barreto se apercebeu da profunda subalternidade da língua concani e da classe operária na sua terra natal? Embora a sua família em Goa gozasse de privilégios de casta e classe, Adeodato Barreto, no poema ‘Bekaryanc’, ecoa o célebre grito marxiano dirigido ao proletariado. Tê-lo-ia escrito nessa língua para que o povo goês o pudesse ler e entender sem intermediários? Pelos vistos, dois anos antes de a morte o silenciar, Adeodato Barreto sonhou em dar voz aos oprimidos da Índia, como, aliás, de certa maneira o fizera também em relação aos habitantes da sua terra de adopção.
Evidentemente, ‘Bekaryanc’ não pretende ser uma “obra de arte”, mas um simples “desabafo de alma”,[10] como, aliás, diz Adeodato Barreto falando de toda a sua obra poética reunida n’O Livro da Vida. Volvendo, pois, os olhos saudosos a Goa, deu um último grito, em concani, antes do seu último suspiro, em Portugal.
---------------
[1] Pereira, José. Literary Konkani: a Brief History. Panaji: Goa Konkani Akademi, 1992, p. 36; Sardesai, ManoharRai. A History of Konkani Literature. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 2000, p. 139.
[2] De nome completo Júlio Francisco António Adeodato Barreto.
[3] Agradeço à Doutora Sandra de Ataíde Lobo o ter-me facultado este importante pormenor.
[4] Tinha como colaboradores principais José Paulo Teles e Telo de Mascarenhas, ambos estudantes de Direito.
[5] Veja-se também Civilização Hindu: seguido de O Livro da Vida (Cânticos Indianos). Lisboa: Hugin Editores, 2000.
[6] Índia Nova, n.º 1, p. 4
[7] Pelo menos no século XVI, o grande período das conversões religiosas, os portugueses reabilitaram a língua, estudando-a cientificamente, ou seja, confeccionando gramáticas e dicionários, obras que nenhuma outra língua indiana possuía na altura.
[8] O que nem sempre sucede com os seus poemas em português.
[9] Cf. O Livro da Vida. Nova Goa: Edições Swatva, 1940, [p. 8]
[10] In “Proémio”, [p. 13], escrito sob o pseudónimo Forçu Deodat, respectivamente, corruptelas de Francisco e do nome hindu Devdatt.
(In Revista da Casa de Goa, II Série – No. 12 Sep-Oct 2021, pp. 46-48)
Early days of Mining in Goa
Mining activity changed the face of Goa, says Manuel (Manecas) Costa, one of Goa’s senior-most mining concessionnaires, in a chat with Óscar de Noronha, on the monthly Renascença Goa show.
O.N. – Mr Manuel da Costa, to start with, please tell us how you got into the mining business.
M.C.: I was studying in Belgaum and I returned to Goa in the year 1952. Here, many people were talking about mining and the extraction of iron ore. I was quite interested in those conversations. I started a business of transportation of ore as there was a shortage of trucks. In fact, there was a shortage of all machinery for mining. I started with five lorries to transport mineral. In the first year I transported iron ore from M. S. Talaulikar Mines, from Sacordem to Collem railway station. Then I received another proposal to transport iron ore from Pissurlem. For the payment, Mr Vasudev Salgãocar came with his employee named Parkot who carried a small brief case full of money. In those days everything was limited because of a lack of finance. He came in a small car, Baby Austin. He was also in the beginning of business. And that year, I was informed that he extracted only 60,000 to 80,000 tonnes.
O.N. – Which year are you talking about?
M.C.: 1953 or 1954. Thus I launched into the mining business. When I went with my lorries to the mines, I used to observe the manner in which the material was extracted. I saw them separating the ore according to percentage. They extracted manually, everything by hand, with manual labour, as there was no machinery. Later on, I bought a compressor with a drilling attachment. And that is how everyone else also went on improving their mining extraction.
O.N. – Did this extracted ore already have a commercial demand?
M.C.: In the year 1954 or 1955, the exporters, namely, S. Shantilal, Vasudev Salgãocar, Chowgule, and some others were invited to Europe for consultations on financing by barter system. Under the barter system, ore would be exported from Goa. The purchasers had other agencies that were financiers; they were the intermediaries to ascertain that the ore would be furnished from Goa. For example, V. M. Salgãocar had a contract with Ciba, who were into pharmaceuticals. They probably also had other activities. Ciba had a representative based in Goa to observe and ensure that Salgãocar would carry out the whole contract. With the barter system it was advantageous for them because they managed to purchase lorries and other necessary machinery. Salgãocar imported a shipload of Bedford trucks, and so did Shantilal and the other companies who also bought trucks and thereby improved their transportation system. Thus they improved their situation. However, business was limited and the prices were low, extremely low. As the work was manual, the sourcing and extraction of ore was limited and so exports were limited, too. The rates were low, so we had to organize our business in such a way as to manage to get some profits. The exchange rate was two rupees to the dollar. However, the other materials were cheap. For example, petrol was @ 10 paise per litre and diesel @ 8 paise per litre. Labour wages were standard but low as compared to today. And that’s how our business went on.
Mining Laws and Processes
O.N.: Mr. Costa, when was the first law of mines decreed?
M.C.: It was the Declaration of 1906.
O.N.: And when did mining activity begin?
M.C.: Surveys were being carried out. In 1908, a French company from Calcutta came to Goa to carry out a geological survey. As they didn’t have the machinery that we have nowadays, they opened a tunnel digging up to 4-5 metres.
O.N.: In which part of Goa was the tunnel?
M.C.: There dug two or three tunnels in Mulgao, Bicholim. Subsequently, six claims were put up by M. M. T. de Souza.
O.N.: Did the land belong to the Comunidades or to the State?
M.C.: This I don’t know; maybe partly private and partly State.
O.N.: When was the first concession given to Mr De Souza?
M.C.: In 1941.
O.N.: From 1908 to 1941... Well, that was quite a long interval!
M.C.: It was a long interval, but I had heard that one Mr Pereira from Vasco da Gama also had a concession in Sacordem or somewhere around there and had been extracting ore much before 1941.
O.N.: How were these concessions granted? What was the process?
M.C.: In those days, unfortunately, money was in short supply. If anyone had a hundred rupees, everyone around would say, ‘Oh! Here comes a capitalist’. To get a license for mines, four or five guys used to get together and contribute Rs 50, Rs 40 and Rs 20 and put together Rs 200. Then they could apply to the Government for a mining concession.
It was a simple process. All the local demarcation points had to be made. The person who applied had to fix a plaque in one or two places. Thus people could read the name of the person who had applied. These nameplates were fixed on trees or some visible spots. And the sign had to mention that so and so had applied for a ‘claim’… using this word, ‘claim’…
O.N. You mean the word ‘claim’ in English?
M.C.: Yes, claim for this plot for extraction of iron, manganese or something to that effect. The sign plate would remain there for some time. After the application was made, the government would publish in the official gazette that that particular area had been applied for by so and so person, giving 180 days for anyone to file any appeals. After this time had lapsed, the government would issue a certificate of manifest. The people holding these manifests could approach different individuals and offer to sell them for a better price. These were sold for a profit of two hundred or four hundred rupees. The person who bought the manifest would then continue the process of registration, which cost less than a thousand rupees. Thus they would manage to get a title of concession.
O.N.: Was this title of concession for life?
M.C.: This title of concession was a perpetual lease, as if it was your personal property. The person would be the owner of the concession.
O.N.: Were there any other conditions and charges? How did he pay the State?
M.C.: During those days, the Portuguese charged a pittance. Even during the exploration, the charges were not very high. Many people took this initiative because the process was more liberal.
O.N.: What about technical personnel?
M.C.: Well, in those days there were hardly any technicians. Even big companies did not have competent technicians or geologists. There were some companies who were assayers to analyze the ore and determine the percentage of iron and manganese content in the ore. But there were no proper machines to determine what was lying below the soil. It was difficult due to the lack of proper machinery; however, two or three companies brought geologists from Germany, etc. That was a novelty in those days.
O.N.: Where was this ore exported to in those days?
M.C.: Initially it was meant for Europe, but soon thereafter, the Japanese came and met some mine owners here, especially Chowgule that tied up for a long association with that Japanese company. In those days, Chowgule was in the initial stage of their business and so was the Japanese company, as their business had been badly destroyed by the Second World War.
O.N.: Was the mining industry well established and organized? I mean, was there any association of miners?
M.C.: No, almost none.
O.N.: Did they not have an association during the Portuguese regime?
M.C.: There wasn’t any, nor was it necessary.
O.N.: And when was the Goa Mineral Ore Exporters Association set up?
M.C.: The Exporters Association came up well after Liberation. The Goa Mining Association also came up later.
Benefits of Mining in Goa
O.N.: What were the benefits of the mining industry for Goa?
M.C.: In Goa, around the 1950’s, there were no industries. There were agriculturists, etc. Some people worked on ships or proceeded to Bombay for other employment. There was no room for progress. Schools were limited and studies were in the Portuguese language.
O.N.: So, the mining industry came and changed the face of Goa….
M.C.: Yes, mining changed Goa in a big way. There were great changes, because normally the mines were located in the interior. And where there were mining deposits there were no proper roads, especially in the districts of Bicholim and Satari, Dharbandora, Sanguem and part of Quepem. In Canacona, there wasn’t much mining. All these districts that I just mentioned were part of Novas Conquistas (New Conquests). The Velhas Conquistas (Old Conquests) were more advanced; there were proper roads, cities with electricity, etc. and life was more comfortable. But the Novas Conquistas really needed much help. There were no proper schools, no proper hospitals, almost no transport and there were no roads for transportation. For example, there was a road from Mapuçá which passed through Sanquelim, Bicholim via Usgão, came to Pondá and proceeded to Margão. They were mud roads without asphalt and the journey was very uncomfortable. Nowadays, if there is a pothole here or there, there are protests all over the place. They do not know the difficulties we went through.
O.N.: So, in the initial years of mining, it wasn’t a simple life!
M.C.: It was quite hard not only because of the lack of transport but our lifestyle itself was totally different. There was nothing to eat and drink in those areas, and one had to travel at least 6 km to get a cup of tea.
O.N.: Were you staying at the mines?
M.C.: Yes, I was. I had a small little hut. And when I built the house, I also had my supplies. But also the work increased tremendously. One had to go from the mines to the point of embarkation where the barges were loaded. All the work was manual. Later on these docks were mechanized and they were loaded with self-loading trucks. Of course, in my time, to load up a barge of 250 tonne capacity, we needed 200 people. They used troughs, which were loaded with material and carried on the head and dumped in the barge over a gang plank/jetty which was made of wood. It was a temporary structure. Fortunately, the laws were not so rigorous. Today, to do something, it requires at least five to fifteen licences. My ore would be transported over a distance of 6-7 km to the jetty. The lorries were loaded and discharged onto the barges, again by hand. I used to be paid only Rs 11 for a tonne of ore. But then, that was money in those days!
Getting out of the Impasse
O.N.: Mr Costa, the mining industry has reached an impasse. How does one come out of it?
M.C.: Very difficult. In 1987, when our concessions were converted into mining leases, we the miners referred the matter to the Supreme Court, explaining that we had perpetual leases which were ours personally. Unfortunately, the case has not yet been taken up for hearing by the Supreme Court.
O.N.: Do you still work?
M.C.: Oh yes, I still work. I mean, even though the mining business has been discontinued, there is still a lot of work left to be done; we still have to handle many of the issues.
O.N.: Working is good for health!
M.C.: Yes, I agree, it’s very good for health!
O.N.: One last question… What if you had to start all this work in mining once again…?
M.C.: Under what conditions? Today we are quite advanced in the exploration of mines. We know the mining laws. But I saw what happened in the years 2005, 2006 and 2007, when the demand for iron ore increased, the way the local people and the NGOs acted. If we restart the business, we know what to expect.
O.N.: Anyway, you have done what was possible and what needed to be done; you’ve worked 50 years in mining and are the oldest man in the Goa mining industry….
M.C.: One of the oldest!
O.N.: And so, let me wish you good health and lots of happiness.
M.C.: Thank you very much.
Translated by Caetano Filipe Colaço
First published in Revista da Casa de Goa, Series II, No. 10 (Jul-Aug 2021)
Use the following link to listen to the original chat in Portuguese on the YouTube channel of Renascença Goa:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtqG5bONwWs&t=1641s
Blending tradition and innovation
It is no secret that the covid-19 pandemic has hit the education sector worldwide quite badly. In India, the shutting of thousands of schools, colleges and universities has had huge social and economic implications. To offset the damage and loss, it became necessary to transit to online teaching and learning.
Meanwhile, the National Education Policy (2021) has emphasised the importance of a hybrid (online and physical) mode of education. On the one hand, it will be a mammoth task for educationists and administrators to blend the two systems on the ground; on the other, it is a moot point whether the country’s internet infrastructure will support the innovation. With only 24% of the country’s households having access to the internet (down to 4% in rural India), technology-driven education might well create a new class of dropouts along the lines of gender and social class.
Against this grim background, the Bharatnet project is being seen as a ray of hope; it aims to provide fibre optic broadband to 250,000 gram panchayats. Of course, the building of digital infrastructure alone is not enough; staff have to be trained accordingly, ensuring authentic and seamless delivery. Then again, one is baffled by the Union Education ministry's drastic budget reduction for digital e-learning (from Rs 604 crore in 2019-20 down to Rs 469 crore in 2020-21) at this crucial juncture.
Even while e-teaching, e-learning and e-governance are quickly becoming the new normal, it is unrealistic to expect people’s experiences to be the same across the length and breadth of the country. For instance, online teaching and learning have been smoother in urban India than in most parts of rural India. And while many universities have returned to their pre-pandemic academic schedules, ours has not yet been able to beat the delays. For our part, we made it a point to elicit students’ responses to online learning, by means of an online survey devised by the Department of English, so as to better understand the changing educational scenario in pandemic times.
To begin with, despite efforts to the contrary, only 50% per cent of the total number of registered students responded to the online survey – probably a pointer to the weariness that has set in vis-à-vis the current situation. Furthermore, students’ responses to the very first question (“At the beginning of the academic year, were you super-excited about the new, online mode of education?”) spoke volumes. There was a huge discrepancy between the opinions expressed by the First, Second, and Third Year students: in fact, their enthusiasm in descending order (53.6%, 33.9% and 12.4%, respectively) made it look like they were utterly dismissive of the déjà vu.
There is no doubt that the digital world has grown exponentially in the wake of the covid pandemic. In terms of availability of devices and resources, it has been a situation of plenty, leading the IT sector to register tremendous profits. However, our survey points to 100% student dependence (and almost exclusively so) on the smartphone for online learning; alternative device use is negligible (laptop, 4.2%, or a desktop, 0.6%. Whether or not it is a portrayal of the younger generation’s casual attitude to learning or is a plain attempt to cling to that versatile digital companion as a means to cut down costs is just anybody’s guess.
Google Meet was found to be the most popular learning platform (100%); other options included Microsoft Teams (50.3%) and Zoom (11.2%). But even when using the platform of their choice, only 12.1% found it “always easy” to understand” what was taught; 63.9% of the students found it “sometimes easy”, 18.2%, “rarely easy” and the rest, 5.8%, “never easy”. Interestingly, when it came to receiving learning material, WhatsApp won hands down (62.1%), followed by Microsoft Teams (27.9%). That is to say, even low-tech interventions (SMS text messages and phone calls) can sometimes help mitigate learning losses caused by non-availability of ideal devices.
If the test of the pudding is in the eating, it must be acknowledged that a host of problems have made the learning experience woeful: a whopping 89.4% pertain network issues. Students have also complained of feelings of social isolation and difficulty to concentrate when online. Some students were conscious of the unsuitability of their device but could do little when faced with financial crunches ˗˗ a huge eyeopener indeed.
It is to be noted, on the other hand, that the teaching community too has not been immune to network issues. It is a known fact that teachers in almost all colleges in the state have had to depend on their own mobile data to hold classes; institutional wi-fi was either non-functional or the bandwidth inadequate. No wonder, 55.8% of the students surveyed stated that their lectures and/or practicals were sometimes rescheduled, or never held at all.
But, by and large, it is a huge credit to the teachers that they were able to deliver despite all odds: 46.1% of the students stated they have always received adequate learning material from their teachers. But having said that, it is baffling how, in the event of the teacher’s explanation falling short, 60.3% approached fellow-students for clarification of doubts; only 23.9% contacted the teacher concerned, and 14.8% decided to depend on themselves. But none of it was a slur on the teachers’ popularity levels: teachers have almost always shown great understanding; only a miniscule group of students pointed to a lack of sympathy and support from the teaching faculty.
Through it all, that students’ attendance kept falling is an undeniable fact. To get to the root of the issue, is it because absenteeism is no longer punishable? Or is multi-tasking a contributing factor? Quite interestingly, 48% of the students said they systematically avoided multitasking. But from among those who did multitask, 24.4% specified that they chatted and 23.7% cooked; some others watched television or even went shopping. Those who remained glued to their devices complained of weight gain, strain on eyes, mental stress, and headaches, especially when classes are held back-to-back.
Finally, the testing methods. The system evolved quickly to suit the online mode. Maximum marks (80) were halved and the number of questions reduced to just two main ones. Needless to say, answer scripts quite often felt like photocopies. Curiously, the testing methods, coming across as somewhat easy-going, inspired even dropouts to try their luck with the system. And needless to say, online exams were not free of network problems (80.9%) and grievances regarding time constraints (11.2%).
It has come as no surprise that 49.4% of the students found their learning levels seriously compromised by the online mode of education; 13.3% felt they had learned “nothing” online; 21.2% found no difference between the two modes whereas only 16.1% proudly asserted that they had attained higher learning levels through the online mode.
All things considered, however, a humongous 63.3%, opted for the offline mode of teaching. This is not a vote against trailblazing technology but for a smart blend of good ol’ tradition and innovation.
(Editorial, Prerana, June 2021)
Pic credit: https://www.studyinternational.com/news/what-this-innovative-indian-university-is-doing-differently/
State of Portuguese Language and Culture in Goa
Goa has a ‘very powerful, deep and loving connect’ with its Portuguese past, says Portuguese language teacher Maureen Álvares, in a chat with Óscar de Noronha, on the monthly chat show Renascença Goa.
Use the following link to listen to the original chat in Portuguese on the YouTube channel of Renascença Goa: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRuax1W6O8w
ON: What attracts your students to the Portuguese language?
MA: In fact, when at the very beginning they opt for the Portuguese language, that is, in class VIII, I feel that they do so thinking that it is easier than French or Konkani. Well, initially I used to feel amused to hear these responses: ‘Oh, my grandparents used to speak; I adored listening to that.’ Or, ‘Aunts and uncles that I have in Portugal speak Portuguese. I would like to learn a bit more to be able to communicate better with them.’ This is another way in which students are attracted to opt for this language; and, well, with pride, I can say that Portuguese is a language that presents a stage wider than that of any other language. I do not know if Hindi, Konkani or French have the same variety of programmes, like ‘Vem Cantar’, one of the main ones; Noite de Fado, or the “Skits” that the teachers used to put up; and now many colleges do. St. Xavier’s has done it for some years now and we at Loyola’s have begun and it is now the fourth year in succession that we are going to present this programme.
ON: You mean the “Lusophone Festival of Art and Culture”, don’t you?
M: Yes!
ON: Makes sense... Goa has always been Portuguese-speaking. It really makes sense that they should choose Portuguese, rather than French… How many students do you have each year?
MA: Well, when I began teaching at Loyola, there were 7 students and luckily, the following year the number increased to 18; and we’ve even had 63 students in a division. Now we have a more ‘reasonable’ number. We have 38 students in class VIII. It is only that in class X this year we have 58 students that are appearing for the state board exams, SSC.
ON: What activities do you have as a part of the curriculum?
MA: Well, we do not have a lot of time for a lot of things, but we have a hall with a stage and the students of class IX put up small plays, a restaurant scene, for instance. And they do it with a lot of enthusiasm: acting as a waiter with a tray, the food, the drinks... It is interesting. And it is in this way that they sense a common factor in languages.
Something very interesting happened when one of my students was answering his exam. I was explaining that Salcete taluka’s spoken Konkani had incorporated many Portuguese words. And when the student could not remember the Portuguese word for spectacles, I said they should close their eyes, think, take a small break…. He immediately remembered the word óculos, and used it!
ON: Do you think that the Portuguese music competitions have also contributed a lot in this regard?
MA: Yes, they have! When I take groups to participate (always more than 2-3 groups) in competitions like ‘Vem Cantar’, for example, it is truly a lot of work. That’s because with so many places where I teach, that is, not only at Loyola’s, but also at Rosary’s, and I also travel to the higher secondary of St. Andrew’s, Vasco da Gama, I do feel tired… perhaps it is the age, I do not know.
ON: Well, that’s a missionary spirit!
MA: Yes!
ON: But the competitions have helped. For example, ‘Vem Cantar’ started more than 14 years ago, I think…
MA: That’s right.
ON: And there are participants who do not know Portuguese…
MA: Yes! As part of a group from Loyola’s, which won the first place, there were only 2 students of Portuguese. Most were students of French.
ON: Therefore, it would perhaps be fair to say that it is easier to learn the language through music, wouldn’t it?
MA: It is true, it makes sense. But in a school like Loyola, it is a bit difficult. Imagine, if we were to listen to music, the entire school would stop. Therefore, listening to music during class is not possible.
ON: But the students can do this privately...
MA: They can and should.
ON: Today we have the internet which helps by giving access to all kinds of music from any part of the world. And thus it is easier. And you, Maureen, always take good groups to contests, competitions, or wherever you go...
MA: This is because the students show interest. Frankly, they are the ones who accept the opportunity, accept the effort, and in this effort I get help from my children: my son and daughter train the students to sing. My daughter, in the area of drama, too, and the students and their parents put in efforts, come over to my home, practice… and this happens almost every evening. There are days when we are working till almost 10 at night. I could not have had better help than from the parents of those students….
O: So it is not only your individual or personal effort! It is clearly a collective effort, a family effort… The family is always helping you...
MA: Oh, you mean my family! Yes!
ON: As regards conversation… how does it go? Do you feel that by the time the students reach class XII, they are in a position to hold a conversation in Portuguese?
MA: No! And that’s simply because they are part of a larger group. And when the group is, for instance, on the playground, they either speak English or Konkani. So to attempt conversational skills among them is fine, but most have friends who have opted for French or Konkani.
I’ve also been fortunate to have a South Indian student who spoke Malayalam. When he came to Goa, he had started speaking in Konkani. He won a prize for Konkani in class V. Just imagine, at 10 years of age, he could speak English, Malayalam, Konkani, Hindi which is mandatory; and in class 8 was already learning Portuguese. So I would love to know what student, in Portugal, or France, or any other place in the world, is able to speak five languages fluently at 10 years or even at 12 or 13 years of age! Not possible.
We are a multi-lingual society. It does not enable develop conversational skills.
ON: Yes, in a polyglot society they often use words from several other languages. There are many influences…
MA: But it is like in any other language, like English or Konkani. Now in the group that is going to class IX, we have Muslim and Hindu students. And how does one enable these students to listen to the language? RTP! If not on television, there are RTP programmes on YouTube as well. They can hear the language there too.
But what helped me a lot – and I say this very often, when have teachers’ meetings – is that for students to be able to better connect with the language, they should listen to the Eucharistic service. My suggestion has borne fruit, for it is not the Catholics alone who follow their little missals in English while they listened to a Mass being held in Portuguese…. I found it interesting that the Hindus and the Muslims used to follow the Eucharistic service with greater interest than the Catholics who found it tiresome to attended Mass at church in the morning and later do this exercise at home.
ON: Unfortunately, there are no Portuguese-language newspapers here... but what about your annual school magazine: does it have a Portuguese section?
MA: Students of class X, particularly those of Portuguese, always produce articles like ‘My last year in school’, ‘Goodbye, Loyola!’, etc. – always farewells or memories. But over the years we’ve received good articles…
ON: That’s good… And before we wind up… We’ve spoken about your students, and now, on a personal note, how did you decide to be a teacher of Portuguese?
MA: Well, I never wanted to be a teacher nor did I think I would ever be one. It probably never made sense when I began, because there was a need for a teacher who could teach both French and Portuguese. When a teacher of Portuguese and who also taught French was going on leave, my sister-in-law, who knew the Principal of Loyola’s very well, asked me if I would want to teach. I said I wouldn’t mind….
ON: Congratulations! … And how do you divide your time?
MA: Well, it is difficult but when people do like what they do they do not feel that they are limiting their time to one thing or another. Well, cooking is something I don’t like to do…
ON: What! Not even Portuguese cuisine?!
MA: Neither. But I love to eat. That’s easy, because I have a fantastic family, husband and children who help a lot and are not difficult to please. So it works out.
ON: And how about your Museum? You are vital to its working!
MA: The Big Foot, right? Now it is my daughter who does most of the work, but earlier, when we had just begun, I helped my husband. Of course, the material was always in English.
ON: Do you get a lot of Portuguese tourists?
MA: More of Brazilians. We have a huge family in Portugal, so there are always family recommendations and visitors to Goa always drop by.
ON: Did you ever think of translating the name “Big Foot”?
MA: ‘Pé Grande’? No! Frankly the name ‘Big Foot’ was decided upon by the locals, but its real name is “Ancestral Goa”.
ON: ‘Pé Grande’ or, I would say, ‘Pé Gigante’…
MA: ‘Pé Gigante’, yes, it is! Also, at Big Foot we have made a great effort to present to the public what we are: Goans, and proud of being so, because we have had this very powerful, deep and loving connect with our past, when we had the Portuguese here for so many years.
Something interesting happened way back in 2006 when we visited Europe for the first time. We were visiting Aveiro where we went to this pastry shop called “O Peixinho Pequenino”. They wanted my husband and me to try out Ovos Moles. While he was packaging the desserts, he said, “Where are you from?” and my cousins answered, “They are our cousins from India. From Goa. And he said, something very curious and beautiful, “With the Goans we have a connect that comes from the womb of our mothers.”
ON: Very beautiful. And may this connect continue to flourish and enrich us.
MA: Both sides.
ON: Right! That’s all for today, Maureen! Your students are always welcome to our studio for more programmes.
MA: Thank you!
ON: Meanwhile, instead of wishing you ‘good luck’, let me say: May your students make giant strides...
MA: Thank you!
Translated from the Portuguese by Maureen Álvares
First published in Revista da Casa de Goa, Série II, N.º 10, Março-Abril 2021
Nillu - 2
Sheela Kolambkar-hachi lhan kotha (Dusro 
Bhag)
Devanagarintlem Romi lipiantor korpi: Óscar de Noronha
Oslich ek gozal to Narveche zatrechi sangtalo. ‘Zanna mugo bai, ten’na hanv lhan aslom. Mhunnchem asot sotra, ottra vorsancho, go. Tea tempar oso khõi zatra bi asleo zalear hanv ani mhoje amig soglleant fuddem. Zatrek vochop, bhonv-bhonv bhonvop ani zatra sompli kai na nattok polloun asa toxe fantondder ghora ievop. Osoch ek khepe hanv zatrek gel’lom Narveam. Thõi disachi zatra zata. Ani rat zali mhunntokoch devllachea tea vattarant ratik konnuch ravina. Tea ganvchi hi rit. Mhaka ti khobor naxil’li. Hanv gelom ani devllan vochun susegad nhidlom. Bore ratir mhaka zaag aili. Khub lok uloitat oxem aikunk ailem. Hanvem bhair pollelem zalear pois savun chuddi ghevun konn tori ietat-xem mhaka dislem. Khub chuddi! Uzvaad dista. Punn teo konnem ghetleat tem kollona. Chuddiekar bobo marit ietale. Mhuntta mhonsor Devi-le gorbkuddichem dar apxinch fottok korun uktem zalem. Boro uzvaad sokalleak patoll’lo. Boro vas ailo. Ani Devich bhair aili. Hanv thond ãã korun devtek polloun urlom. Devi-lem lox mhojer ghelem ten’na tinnem thõi axil’lem thirth ghetlem ani mhojer ximpdailem. Teaborobor hanv saap bhurgeavori zalom. Tinnem mhaka ukhol’lo ani aple honttient ghalo. Ani ti bhair vochot zalear te soglle chuddiekar devlla bhair ube asat. Devik polloun te nachunk lagle. ‘Monxa vas!’ ‘Monxa vas!’ mhonnunk lagle. Devin tankam xant kelem. Tankam bosoilem ani jevonn vaddlem. Tea jevnnacho vas kitlo boro axil’lo mhunn sangum? Mhoje jibek udok suttlem. Punn thondantlean utoruch bhair futtna zalem. Magir kitem zalem khobor nam. Punn dusrea disa zago zavun pollet zalear hanv eka zaddar asa. Mhoje dost mhaka sodtale. Mhaka te distat punn hanv tankam disona. Bob marunk sodtam hanv punn tondantlean utor futtna. Nimanne suria udelo ani mhoji vacha suttli. Hanvem tenna bob marli. Lokamni zaddar choddun mhaka sokol denvoilo. Sogllo lok mhonnunk lago, ‘Tugelem noxib borem mhunn tum vanchlo. Na zalear tim bhutam khetam tuka pisddun khatlim aslim.’
Nillu-li hi khobor aikun amchi bhievn gulli zatali.
Nillu-lim gozali monxa monxapromann bodoltaleo. Mhoje ajiek to devadhormacheo gozali sangi. Mhoje avoik to ganvantleo bhangoddi sangi tor babak apnnem kel’lea budhvontponnacheo gozali sangi. Amcheo piraio bodlot gheleo toxeo tageleo gozali bhutam khetamvelean monxacher aileo.
‘Zanna mugo bai, eka ganvant mhozo eklo mitr asa. Tachi avoi meli. To vhoddavhoddan roddtalo.’
‘Roddpachoch nhoi? Kitli-i zalear ti tageli avoi,’ ami mhunntalim.
‘Khõicho go? Tumkam kitem disle, to tache avoik roddtalo?’
‘Hoi!’
‘To avoik roddonaxil’lo.’
‘Magir?’
‘To roddtalo to dusrech khatir. Atam hi meli. Higelea baraveak jevonn diunk zai. Tache khatir poixe khoimchean haddche, hem chintun to roddtalo.’
Ani magir ami hans hans hanstalim.
‘Kitem amchea ganvantleo riti? Ektor monis mela tachem dukh’kh asta. Tantunt ho anik ek noxtto khorch! Te poros hanv tor raza zalom zalear heo jevnnavolli bondh kortolo ani ganvkarank sangtolom, mel’lea monxachea ghorantleank ek-ek dis ek-eklean jevonn vhorun divchem. Titloch tankam pondra dis xok korunk melltolo. Hatavelea pottache he lok. Osle lok ganv jevonn koxe ghaltole? An’naddi amcho lok!’
Dat’tu Nillu-lo dost. Dat’tulem logn zalem. Tachem Bit’ttona kai khõi mavoddem axil’lem. Mãin zavõiak xigmeank apoil’lo. Zanvoi veta mhonntokich dedde ailech! Zanvoia vangdda dedde-i bin gele. Tantunt Nillu-i axil’lo. Soglle mellun axil’le dha-bara zonn. Kheriz mavoddea anikui soire axil’le. Bhair angonnant boxil’le kodden tol’lilim sungttam ani postamcho vas ietalo. Bangddeachea humnnak ghal’lim tefllam jibek udok haddtalim. Poilim zanvoi ani dedde jevonk bosle. Jevnnant pollet zalear hankam peddveamchem humonn ani ordh-ordh post vaddlam. Anink kãi na. Velean Dat’tuchi mãi mhonnta: “Nustem kãinch mel’llem na. Ragar zanvum nakat babamno.”Nillun mhollem: “Xe, xe! Tantunt tumchi kosli chuk, mauxe? Aiz xigmeak soglleageruch gordi nhoi? Ten’na nustem mharog asunui mellchem nam.”
Itliant Dat’tuli maim vadd mhunn dhuvek sangun dhodd ghevun bhaincher geli. Ti udok haddunk geliaxi polloun Nillu uttlo. Tannem randchem kuddint vochun Dat’tule bailek vicharlem, ‘Vhoni, tollil’lim sungtam khõi dovorleant?’
Vhoni bhavddi kitem sangtoli? Nillun poilim pattaponda dhampun dovoril’lim tollil’lim sungtam ani postam kaddlim, ani dhavea hatan soglleank vaddlim. Tannem dusro patt ugddun ponda kitem asa tem pollelem. Thõi ukdil’lim tanteam axil’lim. Tinvui tannem ubarlim. Soglleank vaddlim. Ani Dat’tuli maim dhodd ghevun ghora ievche poilim asa toso jevpak ieun boslo.
Soglle bore iotest jevle ani bhair sorle. Dat’tuli maim te uprant zanvoi-ak ani tagelea dheddeank apoupachea fondant kennach poddli nam.
Xannu-babali choli dhavea pãian matxi kut’tali. Tigelo dhavo paim il’lo mottvo axil’lo. Tigelo dhavo dollo-ui matso barik-so. Osle cholie koden logn konn zatlo? Bori dot ditlo mhunn kitem zalem? Eke saidden pollelear bori distali. Nillu Xannu-babak bhudh’ dili ani cholielem logn zalem. Xannu-baban choliechem logn zatokich Nilluli zoddpean vontt bhorli. Nillule bailek kapodd mell’lem, Nilluk judiek lugot ani puddvem mell’lem.
Nillun te choliek koxi khopoili? Choleak choli dakhoili ti choli bhãi velean dhodd handdir ghevun ieta astana. Atam kombrar dhodd astokuch bailam matxim vankddim choltatuch. Kheriz, uzve vattentlean choliek pollelean dhave vattencho dollo dixtti poddlo nam. Mall poddtokich dolleam mukhar choli polletokich nhovro zalo ragar. Nilluli zap toiar axil’li. ‘Tuka, baba, anik kitlixi sundor choli mellpachi? Bhailamlem kitem asta? Tanche thonddar lugot uddoilem mhunntokuch sogllim bhailam sarkinch. Tantunt kãi forok na. Kheriz Xannu-babalo zanvoi mhunn lok tuka kitlo man ditle, khobor asa? Choli bori sonvsari. Randop, xivonn-sut bes borem ieta tika. Tugelo sonvsar boroch sukhan korteli ti!’
Nillun zolma ievun kam’ kelem na oxem mhonnum nozo. Tagele avddichem ek kam axil’lem. Tem to kortalo. Punn tem kam axil’lem ‘seasonal’; mhollear to goddgoddo choloitalo. Ani ho goddgoddo cholounk zatra na zalear festam ievchim poddtalim.
Ek khepe eka ganvant zatra axil’li thõi Nillu apnnalo goddgoddo ghevun gel’lo. Goddgoddo ratcho saddebarank suru zatalo ani uzvaddtasor choltalo. Ek dis Nilluk kainch nhoi mhollear panch sovxem rupiamchi zodd zali. Nai zalear minak lagun lokamkodden duddu golltaloch. Uzvaddle borobor Nillu devllache tollient nhalo. Tannem borim ikra rupiamchi fulam ghetlim ani to devllant gelo. Paiam poddlo. Devtek fulam diun porta ietna vattent tagelea pãiak kitemtori toplem. Kitem kãi mhunn pollet zalear konnali tori gollsori! Bhangarachi! Nillulo jiv dhadosbhorit zalo. Tannem ti bolsant ghali ani tosoch vochun agarsallent nhidlo. Zago zalo to konnalea tori vhodda vhoddan roddpachea avazan. Kitem zalem mhunn pollet zalear ekli bail roddta. Kitem zalam zavonk zai tem Nilluk rokddench kol’lem. Taka sutt’ zalem. Higelich zavunk zai hi gollsori. Tannem te bailek vochun vicharlem:
‘Kitem zalem ghe roddpak?’
‘Kitem sangum, baba! Mhoji gollsori xennli.’
‘Gollsori xennli? Kai, konnem chorli ghe?’
‘Xe, xe! Chortolo konn? Mhojekoddlean ti xennli.’
‘Xennli zalear xennli. Dusri korun ghal. Vogich bob marun roddta kiteak?’
‘Are baba, roddum naka zalear kitem korum? Gollsori ghalpachi umed zal’li nhoi mhaka? Hi gollsori mhoji nhoi. Hanvem ti magun hadil’li nanddeli atam nanddelea ghora kollot zalear tigelea ghorcho lok tika oxi soddta? Padd poddum mhojem. Khoinchi paddi bhudh’ zali mhaka ani bhangaram magun haddlim hanvem. Atam nonddek tondd koxem dakhoum hanv?’ – oxem mhunn vhoddavhoddan ti roddunk lagli.
Nillun tika vicharlem: ‘Atam tum ji roddta, tea roddnean tuka tugeli gollsori porti mellteli?’
‘Mellum, na mellum! Punn roddle bogor ranvum ieta? Konnak mell’li tachem Dev borem korum.’
Nillu kuddint gelo ani gollsori gheun ailo.
‘Hi polle ek gollsori. Sokallinch mellil’li ti mhaka. Tuji hi?’
‘Hoi re, saiba! Hich ti. Tum dev koso pavlo mhaka.’ Oxem mhonnun te bailen sorol Nillule pãim dhorle. ‘Mhoje bhava, tum Deva bhaxen pavlo mhaka. Aiz tuvem amger jevunk ievunkuch zai. Ieta mhunn. Magir tugele pãim soddta.’
‘Tum poilim devllant voch. Devi mhoreant vochun soput ghe. Hache mukhar ken’nach bhangarachi vost magun ghalchi na mhunn sangun!’
Tea disa Nillu tiger jevunk gelo. Jevun to tanger nhidlo. To bod’dod ratikodden uttlo. Ratikodden jevun bi to porto bhair sorlo. Punn apnnak bhair angnnant hantunn dovor mhunn te bhoinnik sangunk to visorlo na.
Ratikodden portun tacho goddgoddo suru zalo. Adlea disa jea konnãle poixe gel’le tannim polisent kex kel’lo zavunk zai. Na zalear zilimni lipun goddgoddo khelltolea Nilluk polis koxe dhorun vhorpache? Pulisani Nilluk goddgoddea soit dhorlo. Tori borem, Nillun kalche poixe te manil’le bhoinnikodden dovoril’le. Fuddem kab, fattlean don pulisamodim Nillu oxi vhonkolpavnni vochunk lagli.
Ratikodden kirr kallok patoll’lelo. Uzo zata mhunn Nillun khomis kaddlem ani hatant dhorlem. Ani velean pulisamcher to taplo. ‘Hatak kitem dhortat? Poilinch kitlo uzo zata! Hanv khõi pollun vochna. Hanv pollun vetlom-so dista zalear mhojem puddvem dhorat.’
Hea ganvcho purai vattar Nilluk khobor axil’lo. Choltam-choltanch Nillun puddveache kironvttichi gantt halluhallu sodoll keli. Ani taka zai te suvater panvum naka, dogui pulisank nettan dhuklun to dhanvlo. Kinn kallokh! Pulisanchea hatant Nillulem fokot puddvem urlem. Kallo Nillu kallokhant nach zalo. Konnak pot’to laglo na. Nillu dhanvun gel’le diken kaban far marlo. Punn suknnim bettinch uttun add’dunk laglim…
Pollun gel’lo Nillu bod’dod aple manil’le bhoinniger ailo. Sogllo lok nhidil’lo mhunn borem zalem. Na zalear te nagdde avostent Nilluk polloun lok denvchar mhunn bob martele asle. Sompear Nillulem hantunn axil’lem. Tannem pangrunn matheavelean ghetlem ani to susegad nhidlo. Sokallim uttun tannem apli mustaiki magun ghetli ani to bod’dod ghora gelo.
‘Gõy svotontr zavche poilim utrak mol axil’lem. Atam poixe laile bogor kitench zaina’ ̶ oxem Nilluk sangchem. Atam koslem-i konnalem kam’ aslear khoim ani kitlem vozon dovorlem mhunntokoch tem kam’ zatlem hem Nillu distdist sangtalo. Tagele dost taka mhunntale: ‘Nillu, him oslim poixe ghevun tum lokalim kamam korta tem borobor nhoi. Ken’na angar xekot sangum nozo. Polle, samballun re baba!’
Hacher Nillulem somorthon aikopasarkem. ‘Zanna tum, sorkari nem’ani kaide hea rostean zor tum vochxit zalear ek kam’ zatasor kalleachem dhovem zatlem. Teach kamak tum matso vankddea rostean voch. Tugelem kam’ rokddench zata. Sorol rostean cholotleanchem zog atam urunk nam. Tumkam khobor asa nhoi, devali topoxcharea korun taka proson’n korun ghevpak bara vorsam lagtat mhunn. Atam bara vorsam vatt polloupa itlem pasiens asa konnakodden? Devakoddlem tench kam’, umaxek devcharak kombo kapit zalear dusrea disa zata. Atam devcharak kitem divchem tem tumchea kamavoilean tharavpachem. Sadem kam’aslear sur-rontt. Tache poros matxe kottin kam’ aslear kombo. Bhovuch kottin kam’ aslear mat bokddo. Atam tumich sangat, kombo kapun kam’ korun ghetil’lem borem kai bara vorsam topoxcharea kel’li bori?’
Ek dis khobor aili, Nilluli vhoddli choli konnalo tori hat dhorun pollun geli mhunn! Aji mhonnunk lagli. ‘Vochpachich! Ho oso almped’dear. Aplo sonvsar ubont uddoun sogllea zogacho sonvsar ho korta. Ten’na te bavdde cholien aplem sukh apnnem sodlem zalear tantunt tichi kosli chuk? Gelem tem borem zalem. Gelam thõi sukhi zanv.’
Uprant Nillu amger ail’lo tenna to tiddkol’loso distalo.
‘Tem hatakuch lagum di mhojea, taka jitench marun uddoilem na zalear nanvacho Nillu nhoi hanv! Tondd dakhounk legit zago dovorlo na tannem. Zal’lem tennach mel’lem zalear borem zatlem aslem!’
Mhoje ajien Nilluk apoun vhelo. Ani taka vicharlem, ‘Are, Nillu, zogaveleo uchapoti tuka khobor asta. Ani tugelea ghorant kitem chol’lam hem tuka khobor naxil’lem re? Tum kitem dolle dhampun choltalo? Sogllea zoga lokak khobor axil’lem tugeli choli konnavangdda bhonvtali tem. Amchea Gõyant Ponnje konnem ghann ghali zalear Kankonnmeren tacho vas marta. Ani tuka kainch khobor naxil’lem mhonnta tum?’
‘Khobor axil’lem ghe! Hanvuch vogi ravil’lom. Jen’na bailen cholie samkar mhaka tageli khobor sangli, ten’na hanvem ghor mathear ghetlem. Choliek sanglem, tum zor portun choleaborobor bhonvtana dixtti podxit zalear tugele donkech moddun ghaltolom. Don-char dis tachi rakhonn bi keli. Eke kuddint taka dhampun dovorlem. Jevonn bi dilem na. Punn amchi hi taka upaxim dovorchi na hem mhaka khobor axil’lem. Char-panch dis tachekodden koddok vaglom. Magir matxem taka soil soddlem. Mhaka khobor aslem, oxem kele bogor tem pollun voch’chem na mhunn!’
‘Punn ek sang re, cholo boro nhoi?’
‘Cholo ekdom’boro. Sodunk gelear mellcho na, itlo boro. Boro xikla. Nokri korta. Ghordhar asa. Avoi bapailo ekloch put. Tin bhoinni taka. Tigãichem logn zalam. Tisri bhoinn hi mhoje choliechi moitrinn. Tika lagunuch hanchem zomlem. Tankam soglleank mhoji choli avoddlea.’
‘Soubhagea, itlem sogllem khobor asa tuka. Magir tuvem tichem logn kiteak korun dilem na?’
‘Tum anik kitem uloita ghe? Hanv oso almped’dear! Choli ani nal’l diun logn korchem mhollem tori legit nal’lak poixe dium zai kai na?’
‘Hanv tuka divpachim mure nal’l.’
‘Toxem nhoi ghe! Ritipromann logn korun divchem mhollear cholie angar kanknnam, sorpolli, kanantlim bi vosti ghalum naka? Chalipromann char lokank afounk naka? Unnench mhollear dha ek hozar rupia korch asa. Ani mhojekodden tor dha rupia legit nat. Magir kitem korum? Mhollem, choliek vochum di pollun. Choli-i suttli ani hanvu-i suttlom.’
‘Atam dusri choli re? Tikai pollun voch mhunn sangtolo?’
‘Na! Tika bhoinnin apnnalea choleakhatir poilinch magun dovorlea.’
‘Mhonntokuch atam tum ragixtt monxachem nattok kiteak korta tor?’
‘Anink kitem korum? Khori khobor lokank sangin zalear lok hanscho na mhaka?’
‘Magir hem sogllem tuvem mhaka kiteak sanglem tor?’
‘Tuje kodden fott koxem uloum? Tukai fott marit zalear birmot futt’toli! Lokank hanv toretorechim sonvgam korun dakhoitam. Punn tankam khorem kitem tem sangpachi mannsuki asa?’
Poir kitlea tempan Nilluli bail meli mhunn koll’lem. Put logn zala. Punn taka bapaichi il’li-i kodor na. Nillulea tempavele bhatkarui ekek korun somple. Atam Nilluchea gozalinchi konnak koslich umed urunk na. Zog-ui atam bodol’lam. Nillu sod’dea apnnale dhuveger asa. Ti dhuv ji pollun logn zal’li tiger. Ekek khepe mhaka dista, Nilluli dhuv ravta tea ganvant voch’chem, Nilluk mellchem, taka sarko boro pollovcho ani lhovuch taka vicharchem, ‘Tuka tugeli dhuv barik tandllamchem xit korun vaddta mure?’
(Revista da Casa de Goa, Série II, N.º 10, Março-Abril 2021)
Fatima, alive and tender
Today is the 104th anniversary of the Apparitions of Our Lady of Fátima. It is also the 75th anniversary of the crowning of the Statue and the 40th anniversary of the attempt on the life of Pope John Paul II at St Peter’s Square.
In the words of the Rector, while the silver and gold of that crown represent the joys of life, the bullet fitted therein represents our life’s sorrows.
The four-hour ceremony on this rainy morning at Fátima began with a multilingual recitation of the Holy Rosary and ended with Holy Mass presided over by Cardinal José Tolentino de Mendonça.
It was a touching testimony of love from pilgrims (number restricted to 7500, in keeping with covid-related SOPs) to their Mother, Queen of Heaven and Earth, who is always alive and tender.
Novos temas, novos rumos
Editorial
Como que num piscar de olhos chegámos ao 10.º número da nossa querida Revista. Queira Deus que a possamos acompanhar durante o tempo que for necessário. Não é só um projecto gratificante; é um trabalho importante – dir-se-ia, premente – nos tempos conturbados em que vivemos. Por isso, vivat, crescat et floreat são os nossos votos.
Nunca foi tão urgente, como o é agora, recuperar o passado para o bem do tempo presente e garantia do futuro. Na verdade, está em jogo a vivência goesa, esse modo de estar tipicamente indo-português. Infelizmente, com a velocidade estonteante em que gira o nosso mundo pessoal e colectivo, pouco tempo nos resta para reflexão, para não falar de acção. Por isso, importa que a nossa agenda seja a de reunir o pessoal e pôr mãos à obra.
O acto de reunir os Goeses dispersos pelo Mundo nunca superou, na nossa Revista, aquilo que presenciamos na presente edição, que tem colaboradores das diásporas luso e anglo-goesas. Temos de tudo: uma lenda de Goa pré-cristã e animista, tal qual narra Celina Velho e Almeida, residente em Goa, até à história duma intriga, pouco conhecida, que se passou em Goa, na época da Segunda Grande Guerra, a qual é contada pelo novo colunista, Armand Rodrigues, que vive no Canadá.
Também pouco conhecida da geração moderna é a história da grande aventura que foi a primeira travessia aérea Lisboa-Goa, relatada aqui com pormenor pelo goês lisboeta Francisco Monteiro. De igual modo, o casal Philomena e Gilbert Lawrence, nossos novos colaboradores, de Nova Iorque, dão uma vista panorâmica da secular ligação entre o povo goês e a Grã-Bretanha, que começou com a breve ocupação de Goa pela tropa inglesa, no fim do século XVIII, e continuou com o recrutamento comercial de goeses por aquele país.
Os nossos leitores irão também deliciar-se com três micro-histórias de Goa, não de somenos importância: José Venâncio Machado, radicado em Portugal, lembra-se com emoção das 153 missas celebradas simultaneamente no largo que estadeia entre a Sé e a Basílica, na Velha Cidade de Goa; Ralph de Sousa relata com verve o vaivém silencioso e apressado de gentes nos transportes fluviais de Goa; e Francisco Monteiro retrata a figura de Paulino Dias, uma das maiores figuras da literatura indo-portuguesa, a quem apelida de “poeta da mitologia hindu”.
Ainda no campo literário, temos Sheela Kolambkar, escritora goesa da língua concani, hoje estabelecida em Bombaim, cujo conto, além de transliterado em caracteres romanos, é também traduzido em português pelo signatário destas linhas; e, mais além, Maureen Álvares, numa entrevista comigo, fala do estado actual da língua e cultura portuguesa no território goês.
Para terminar, no contexto da notícia do lançamento do livro Nacionalidade e Estrangeiros, de Edgar Valles, e a crítica feita por José Filipe Monteiro ao livro Entre dois impérios, de Filipa Lowndes Vicente, volto a realçar que nesta edição da nossa Revista vemos ampliada a nossa visão do Goês como verdadeiro cidadão do Mundo.
Como pano de amostra da nova vitalidade que nos brinda enquanto chegamos à bonita idade de dez edições temos a parceria entre a nossa Revista e The Global Goan, sediada na Oceania. Na verdade, “se mais um mundo houvera, lá chegara”.
É claro que, ao fim e ao cabo, o importante não é chegar algures mas, sim, fazer algo de bom e belo. Eis a Revista da Casa de Goa, a menina dos nossos olhos, que tem o condão de produzir novos temas e novos rumos. Mas não paremos por aí. Olhemos atentamente para os gravíssimos problemas da actualidade goesa e sejamos o fulcro dum plano de acção conjunta da nossa comunidade espalhada pelo mundo, em prol da nossa sempre amada Goa.
(Revista da Casa de Goa, Série II, N.º 10, Maio-Junho 2021)
Lenten Traditions in Goa
ON: What do you have to say about Goa's rich tradition of Lenten music?
JLP: Well, the Motetes (Motets) are Goa’s “classical” Lenten music. They began appearing by the middle of the 19th century. They were sung on the occasion of the Santos Passos (Holy Steps of the Cross) and also during the Sacred Triduum, that is, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday. This is Goan Lenten music par excellence. Enter Vatican II in the 1960s and as a result we now have many Lenten hymns – liturgical songs to be sung in church – all composed in the Konkani language, beginning from the year 1965.
ON: What might the earlier Lenten music have been, before the Motets came about in the middle of the 19th century?
JLP: I have no idea. They must have been only hymns in Latin because the liturgy was in Latin. The Parish Schools, for example, began in Goa way back in the 16th century. No Konkani music or hymns were taught there. It was only Latin. The students of our parish schools learnt even choral songs. They could sing in polyphony and they sang serious classical music, like Palestrina and later Perosi and others.
ON: The church Mestres (music teachers) must have also contributed a lot…
JLP: Yes, the Mestres of our Churches, who were also music teachers in our parish schools, used to compose a lot of music in Latin, especially Masses. I am from Benaulim and I met one or two Mestres in my childhood – one was Sabino Rebello and the other was some Roque whose surname I forget, who was the Mestre of St John the Baptist Church, Benaulim.
ON: Are there any studies on the Motets and the religious music of Goa?
JLP: Yes, there are certain studies made on the Motets. To my knowledge, one by Fr. Lourdino Barreto and the other by a Portuguese musicologist, Prof. Manuel Morais. Fr. Romeo Monteiro has published a booklet on this.
ON: Come to think of it, the Motet and the Mando belong to the same period!
JLP: Exactly, the Motet and the Mando came up in the second half of the 19th century. It was perhaps the fruit of what we could call a “compositional spurt” among Goan composers. At least for some hundred years in Goa, motets were composed in Latin. Perhaps in the nineteen fifties or a little earlier, they began composing motets in Konkani, like “Vell Mhozo Paulo” …
ON: Who composed it?
JLP: Look, we have a curious fact here. Manuel Morais has already found a number of motets, both in Latin and in Konkani, but there is no name of the composer!
ON: What could the reason be?
JLP: What he says is that perhaps the composers were few and widely known and hence there was no interest in knowing who had composed them.
ON: Let’s say, the composer of “Sam Francisku Xaviera”…
JLP: Raimundo Barreto! He is widely known for his iconic composition “Sam Francisku Xaviera”. I don’t know of any other composition by him. He probably has some.
ON: Would there be a way of collecting all the motets?
JLP: Yes. There are bound to be other motets, in private collections. Perhaps these Mestres, no longer alive today, have left in their trunks some other motets that are not known; but I doubt we shall ever know the names of the composers. That will be very difficult to find.
ON: So, at least regarding motets, we have surprises awaiting us…
JLP: I think so too.
ON: Let’s hope so! And now, let’s talk about music composed after the Vatican Council…
JLP: There are a number of composers, starting with Fr. Vasco do Rego. He was the pioneer of liturgical music in Konkani here in this diocese. We had religious songs in Konkani, even Lenten songs, which were not motets, like “Deva doiall kakutichea”, “Jezu mhojea tujer hanv patietam”. They are penitential hymns which most probably are one or even two centuries old. But the post-Conciliar impetus was given by Fr. Vasco do Rego. He composed many Lenten hymns and he was followed by others.
ON: And who would the others be?
JLP: Fr. Bernardo Cota, Fr. Lino de Sá, Fr. Santana Faleiro, Fr. Joe Rodrigues (this one is a junior priest, but has a couple of compositions)…
ON: And there must have been lay people…
JLP: Yes, there were lay people, too, like Alcântara Barros … and there was one who had been the Mestre of Verna church: I don’t remember his name.
ON: And Varela Caiado?
JLP: Well, I know Varela Caiado as the organist of our Cathedral in Old Goa. I don’t know him as a composer. I have no idea of any compositions by him. But he was a first-rate musician. He was the organist of our Cathedral: this is all I know of him.
ON: Are there productions of Lenten music brought forth by the Diocesan Commission for Sacred Music?
JLP: Yes, there are. I think there are at least two publications of Lenten sheet music, some loose leaflets, besides one or two audio compact discs.
ON: What would be some peculiarities of the Lenten rituals in Goa?
JLP: Well, we have traditions in Goa that are not followed elsewhere. First, the Santos Passos procession is something typical of Goa, and perhaps of a few other parishes which were part of the Diocese of Goa in times gone by, like Belgaum, Sawantwadi, Karwar: these places, which now belong to other dioceses, were part of the Archdiocese of Goa; so the Santos Passos are to be found there too. If one goes to Central India or South India or North India, no, no Santos Passos there. We have inherited this from Portugal, where the tradition still exists.
Here in Goa, the Santos Passos are an interesting event…. There are ‘two Goas’: North Goa and South Goa. In North Goa, Santos Passos are celebrated on every Sunday of Lent. If on the first Sunday of Lent one dwells on the Condemnation of Christ, the second Sunday is the Ecce Homo, on the third Sunday we have the Lord carrying the Cross, on the fourth Sunday, the Lord meeting his Mother on the way to Calvary, and so on: each Sunday offers a meditation on one of the Passos or steps of the Way of the Cross. They are not the fourteen stations, but just a few of them.
In South Goa, it is only one Sunday. For example, in Benaulim, it is the fifth Sunday, in Loutulim it is the third Sunday, and so on. Here you have only one procession of the Santos Passos, incorporating one or two or three Passos of the Way of the Cross.
Another tradition in Goa, both in North and South Goa: a child sings a Veronica hymn… Earlier on, the songs were only in Latin, but now there are Veronica songs in Konkani too.
ON: And the Procession of the Franciscan Saints?
JLP: Well, the Procession of the Terceiros: this too comes from Portugal! Here in Goa we know them as Terciários. In Portugal they are known as Franciscanos Terceiros or Franciscans of the Third Order. I wouldn’t know in which part of Portugal, but they still hold this procession of the Franciscan Saints over there. Here the procession is held only in one place: Goa Velha.
ON: But I’ve heard that Rome is the only other place where such a procession is held…
JLP: I’ve heard that too. If it’s true, I wouldn’t be able to say in which parish of Rome it is held. But I can tell you that there are a couple of parishes in Portugal where such a procession of Franciscan Saints is held: fourteen, fifteen andores (litters) are taken in procession, just like in Goa. But here, no longer are they Franciscan saints alone. There are other saints: Saint Joseph Vaz, the Patron of our Archdiocese, has already been added to the saints here. Don’t be surprised if one day the procession adds in Mother Teresa, Saint Teresa of Kolkata….
ON: But how did a Lenten procession of Franciscan Saints come about in the taluka of Ilhas or Tiswaddi, which was evangelized by the Dominicans?
JLP: Well, this procession, which takes place on the Monday following the Fifth Sunday of Lent, began in the Pilar Monastery, at a time when the Franciscan Capuchos lived there. When the Monastery was shut down, all those saints or images were lodged at the Parish Church of Goa Velha… Note that Pilar still belongs to the parish of Goa Velha, and it is this same parish that holds the procession every year.
ON: As we come to the end of this chat, may I ask you for a message for the season of Lent!
JLP: My message as a priest is that we should live the spirit of Lent as it should be: a spirit of penance, saying no to ourselves, all right, but not with ashes on our heads or sitting on sackcloth as they did in the Old Testament. Ours is a more joyful Lent, because the penance I make, I make it with love and with joy: I am anticipating the joy of the Lord’s Resurrection!
For the original audiovisual version in Portuguese, see Renascença Goa at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXlnAoKU42M
English translation by the interviewee, at my request.
First published in Revista da Casa de Goa (Lisbon), Series II, Issue 9, March-April 2021 and here with a few additional inputs from the interviewee.
Nillu - 1
Sheela Kolambkar-hachi lhan kotha (poilo bhag).
Devanagarintlem Romi lipiantor korpi: Óscar de Noronha
Thodde lok zolmak ietnach almpeddearxe ietat. He lok astat jevnnak mar ani dhortorek bhar mhonnttat polle tosle…. Te kam’dhondo kãi korinat. Tori punn tanchem pott bhorta. Bekar asa mhunn khobor astana tachem logn zata. Tankam bhurgim zatat. Bhurgim xiktat, vhodd zatat. Oxem toren dixtt lagsarko tancho sonvsarui bin zata. Ek poiso zoddi nastanam. Koso to Devakuch khobor! Zonn eke chonchik Devan chorov ghotto dil’lo asta khoim! Toslo to chorov, kãi hat-pãi haloi nastana jea lokamchea thonddant apxinch poddta te lok kitle sukhi! Ani thoddo lok mormorsor kam’ kortat, punn tea lokank dhod ek jevonn susegad bosun jevonk mellna. Kortele kitem? Kormacheo goti ani muien gil’lo khoim hoti, tosleantli khobor!
Toslea almpeddear monxam bhitorlo ek monis mhollear Nillu. Horxim tagelem nanv Nilkant punn Gõykarache nanvanchi vidornam korche sonvoiek lagun to zalo Nillu. Ani Nillu-le avoi-bapui gorib axil’lean soglle taka Nilluch mhonnunk lagle. Zantte-nentte, soglleancho to Nillu axil’lo. Nillu zor ekadrea bhattkarager zolmak ail’lo zalear Nillubab zatlo axil’lo. Ghoddie to Portugez xikil’lo ani khõiui empregad bin axil’lo zalearui to Nillubab zavpacho. Punn to zalo almpeddear ani Nillu to Nilluch ul’lo.
Nillu chear choliamvelo cholo. Mhunn avoi-bapailo khub’ apurbaiecho. Tagelea avoi-bapaili goribkaiechi poristiti asun legit tannim taka laddan vaddoilo. Soglleank ukddea tanddlachem xit ani ho apurbaiecho ekloch put mhunn haka barik tanddlachem xit. Avoi-bapain kel’li tachi sovõi il’li legit vochunk nam. Tachi bail taka barik tandllachem xit tache purtench korun vaddtali.
Nillu nanvapramann nilloch. Mhollear kallokitt. Ghos koso. Tangelem kens legit thondda mukhar matxe dhove distale, hache velean polloiat. Taddmadd koso lambuch lamb. Angan dhondio naslo tori barikui bin nhoi. Niktto valo nesoun ani hatant dhanddo diun, kor’kor’avazacheo vhanno ghalun taka khõicheai sanvari ponda ubo kel’lo zalear lok taka devcharuch mhonttale axil’le. Thond chovkonni. Chovkonni chereacher il’lixi khaddki. Sokoilo vhontt dantani chabun chabun sodanch thambddo gunj zaun astalo. Nillulo vhontt jitlo chodd thambddo, titleo tachekodden hun’hunit gozali asat mhunn somzuchem. Soglleant sobit axil’le tagele dolle. Chokchokit toxe dhoveful. Tantunt sodanch bhurgeancho koso gollgollit nirmoll hanso. Dantui tagele dhoveful. Mogre kolle koxe. Eke vollsorent gunthil’le. Atam zantto zal’lean tagele kens sap dhove zaleat. Ani fottochi negative koso to dista.
Hanvem Nilluk lhan astana pollel’lo toso to asa. Tantunt il’loi forok nam. Fokot kes pikleat. Kes tache matxe lamb-chipchipit tel laun to te porte volloita. Kasatto marun nexil’lem, nill ghalun nillsar dhovem kel’lem tambddea kanttachem puddvem. Tacher khomis. Hem khomis puddvea bhitor ani voir judi oso tagelo bhes. Tachekodden ek Raleigh saikol axil’li. Ho lamb, ti matxi mhotvi. To saikolicher bostalo tem pollovpasarkem. Saikoli poros paim lamb zal’lean te dhomprakodden katkonant dhoddun taka pedalam marchim poddtalim. Saikol choloitanam judi varo bhorun pankhatto koxi foddfoddtali. Ani pãiakodden puddveacho xev varem bhorun furfurtalo. To saikol choloitana rodamcho ani puddveachea forforpacho ek comik avaz ietalo.
Nillule dant dhoveful’ axil’lean tache dost tachi moskori kortale. ‘Makodchap dantmanjnan haka aple jahirati khatir apoun vhorunk zai axil’lo. Poilim hagele dant dantmanjan lavun kalle kalle dakhoile mhonntokoch pod’dobhor kainch dischem nam. Fokot monxachi ek akrtai distoli. Ani magir to dant dhuta tem dakhouchem mhonntokoch dhul’le dhoveful’ chokchokit dant’ – oxem te fokannanim mhonntale.
Nillu lhan astana konnetori bhavixia sangil’lem khõi. Ho cholo zomnir ken’nach cholcho na, sodanch vahanantlean bhonvtolo. Khõichea tori eka sinemant pollel’lem: osoch ek niktoch zolmol’lo bhurgo asta. Jyotixi bhavixia kortat, hagelo ixariacher vahana dhanvtolim mhunn! Avoi-bapui khub khuxi zatat, choleachi khub apurbai kortat. Rokddoch taka zantto zal’lo dakhoila. Ani to zal’lo asta ek traffic polis. Tagelea ixariacher gaddio dhanvtat. Tannem rav mhonttokich gaddio ravtat.
Nillu-lem bhavixia oxech toren khorem zal’lem. To vahanantlean bhonvtalo. Ektor to saikolicher astalo. Saikolicher na ten’na konnache tori gaddient astalo. Choddxa bhattkarank to zai axil’lo; ektor tankam ganvaveleo gozali Nillukoddlean somzotaleo. Na-zalear apleo khobri, aplim vhoddponnam dusreakodden pavovpak tankam Nillucho upeog zatalo ani magir he bhattkar aple vangdda aplea mezar taka vaddtale.
Punn ek, jevle uprant Nillu kennach konnager ravi naxil’lo. Bail vatt polletoli, jevle bogor tixttot ravtali oxem sangun to bhattkarale gaddient bosun bod’dod ghora ietalo, ani susegad tannun ditalo.
Nillu sokallim cha ghevn zo bhair sortalo, to Gopi-lea shopar vetalo.Gopi Nillu-lo dost. Dogui vangddach xiktale. Dogui vangddach xalla chukovn chinche bottam, boram, toram paddunk vetale. Dogui vangddach Saraswati pujnak boria-boria ghorantlea porsamnim vochun borim-borim fulam chorun haddtale. Ani dogui vangddach sigar oddunk xikil’le. Gopin magir aplea bapaili kens kap’pachi kola xikun ghetli. Ani bapailem shop to cholovpak laglo.
Nilluk bapain ghor soddun kãi dovorlem na. Nilluk oddi-oddchonnik Gopich upkara poddtalo. Mhunn sokallim cha piun Nillu bhair sortalo to bod’dod Gopilea shopar ietalo. Thõi taka akh’khea Ponnjent kal kitem kitem ghoddlem tachi khobor melltali. Kal konnager kitem zalem, khõichi choli konnaborabor firta, konnalea ghorant zogddim zalim, khõichea ghova-bhailank poddna, kal konn konnak ghevun khõichea sinemak ghel’lo, voinibaien novea modelachim kanknnam kelim, tantunt tika xettin kitlem fottoilem, bi soglleo gozali tantunt astaleo. Osleo thoddeoxeo legit gozali taka mell’lear puro. Magir tea gozalink mitt, mirsang, mosalo lavn teo ruchik koso korcheo hem Nilluk xikovpachi goroz naxil’li.
Ponnjechea bhattkaramlea ghoranim Nilluchi bhumika Sanskrut nattkantlea vidushkachi astali. Hea bhattkarank hansovpachem, tanche dosh tankam hansot sangpachem, khõiche-i bai-baiechem na zalear tai-baiechem kam moneani korpachem, Satianarainachi puja zali zalear chukonastanam soglleank prasad vanttpachem kam’ Nillu bes borem kortalo. Prasadacho donno konnak chukonaxil’lo ani Nillun dilebogor ekaporos chodd donnem konnak mellonaxil’le. Samradhna asot zalear Nillu vaddunk fuddem. Kitem-i randil’lem unnem zait zalear tem xem-pon’nas lokank polloun vaddpachem kam’ Nillu bes borem kortalo. To top bhorun gheun ietalo ani zonn ekleak vichartalo, “Tuka zai? Naka nhoi?” Oxem apunnuch mhonnun, zai naka hachi vatt pollenastanam fuddem vetalo.
Sokallim dha-ank sumar Nillu nusteachea bazarant pasoi marun ietalo. Konn nustekan kitem nustem ghevun khõi boslea hem to herun dovorun doriadeger konna-i vangdda zankddam marit ubo ravtalo. Title mhonnsor khõichoi tori bhattkar gaddi ghevun nustem vhorunk ietalo.
‘Kitem Sada-baab! Aiz nustem vhorunk tum aila? Rav, rav! Tu denv’ naka. Hanv astana tum kiteak husko korta? Tum hangach rav. Hanv tuje khatir nustem ghevun ieta.’
Oxem mhonnun Nillu nustem ghevun ietalo. Magir Nillun sangil’lem poixe bhattkar ditalo. Ani Nillu panch dha rupia unnem korun te nusteakanik ditalo. Ani uril’lea poixanchem apnna khatir nustem ghevun ghora vetalo.
Deddak sumar to ghora pavtalo. Bail babddi xit bi korun ho nustem ghevun ietlo mhunn vatt polletali. Nustem uzravun tachem humonn zatasor Nillu nhanvunk vetalo. Bhãichea udkacheo panch-sov kollxe angar votun ang puxit bhitor ietalo. Bailen mirio kaddun dovril’lem puddvem nestalo. Puddveacho ek xev khandar udovn tulloxik udok ghaltalo. Ani magir bailen vaddun dovril’lem barik thandllachem xit jevunk bostalo.
Nilluli bail sadi axil’li. Hanstea mukhachi, addve kens volloun supare iedo ambaddo ghaltali. Tigelea hea ambaddeacher ful na oxem kennach zalemna. Logn korun haddil’li ten’na tigelo ambaddo nal’la iedo zatalo. Ghovak Dev somzun ti Nillulo sonvsar kortali. Konnaleo gozddeo xivun ditali, lonnchim korun, papod korun viktali. Divalle, chovthik vojim dhaddunk avoiank adhar kori. Aianom, stradhdhank sovaixinn mhunn rav. He bhaxen koxtt korun, konna mukhar hat kori nastona, ghovalo sonvsar choloitali. Nillulea avoi-bapai fattlean barik thanddllachea xitache Nilluche laad bailenuch puroile. Goddie Nilluli bail ghovale chod laad kortali dekhun Nillu kosloch kamdhondo kori naslo zanv-ie.
Hanvem poilinch sanglam, Nillu bhattkaramlo viduxok axil’lo mhunn. Sadabab ho Ponnjecho ek bhattkar. Hea bhattkarak xembor khepe mutunk vochpachi sovõi axil’li. Nillun ek khepe taka vicharlem: “Sada-bab, tuji voj kutriachi kai kitem?”
“Kiteak re”?”
“Na! Tum portu-portun mutunk veta mhunn vicharlem.”
Sada-bablea choleak Apa Kamotichi choli khubuch manil’li. Punn Sada-bab ani Apa Kamat bhitorlean ekamekale dusman, ten’na soirik zullpak kotinn axil’lem. Sada-babalea cholean apli avodd aple avoik sangli. Avoik-vhonibaik choli posont axil’li. Tinnem kitem korchem? Tinnem Nilluk afvhonno dhaddlo. Taka soglli gozal sangli. Nillun tika sanglem, “Vhonibai, tum bhienv naka. Hanv kitem korpachem tem dist kortam.” Nillu gelo thet Apa Kamotiger. Apa Kamat ani tageli bail bi astani Nillun mhollem, “Kitem, choliele laddu atam kenna ditlim tumi?”
“Are, hanvui tench mhunntam. Cholielem logn korunk zai. Nillu, tum boro-so bhurgo suchoi pollov-ia.” – Apa Kamotili bail.
“Sadababalo cholo asa nhoi? Kai boro xikil’lla sovril’lo.”
“Tu sarko asa mure? Sadabab baab kitem mhoje choliek sun korun ghetlo? Amche sombondh tuka khobor nat?” – Apa Kamat.
“Punn tu vochun Sada-babak vichar tori! Vicharunk kitem poixe poddtat vhoi?” – Nillu
“Hanvoi tench mhonntam. Choli borea ghorant poddtoli ani tumchi dusmankaiui somptoli.”
Magir Apa Kamat khoinchenuch ek dis Nillu vangdda Sada-babager gelo. Tannem utor ghalem. Ani Apa Kamoti sarko monis matso nomtem ghevun aplea dharant aila hem polloun Sada-babanui khuxalbhorit zavun Apa Kamotinle choliek sun korun ghetli.
Lhanponnant amkam Nillu avoddtalo. Kiteak, to tosleoch gozali sangtalo. Ami bhurgim thondd uktem korun tageleo khobri aikotalim. To sangi –
“Zanna mugo, lhan astana hanv Pednea ajieger gel’lom. Tenna light bin naxil’li. Ani Pednea vochunk akho dis lagtalo. Ghorant ponntteo na zalear petrolache kovde astale. Hanv ailam mhunn ajien vodde korpak ghetle. Oxi randon, randni samkar aji boslea. Randni kuxik hanv boslam. Aji vodde tollta. Randche kuddint ek il’lexem zonel. Randta astana chodd zal’lem udok bin aji hea zonelantlean bhair uddoitali … zalear… aji vodde tolltali. Itlean boddiebhaxen ek itlo hat tea zonelantlean bhitor sorlo. Fattofat avaz ailo. ‘Mhaka ek voddo di ge!’ Aji distuch vollkoli konnacho to! Tinnem kitem kelem, dovleant hunhunit tel ghetlem ani tem tea hatar ghalem, hat axil’lo bhutacho! Tem bobo huieli marit dhanvlem. Tacho avaz aikun bhõian mhoji sap’p gulli zali. Hanv Ram, Ram, Ram mhonnunk laglom. Ajien mhaka magir sanglem, ‘Bhutank ken’nach bhievchem nhoi. Bhutank zoxim ami bhietat toxinch bhutam amkam bhietat. Tum tankam bhiexit zalear tim tuka chodd bextaitat.’
(Revista da Casa de Goa, Série II, N.º 9, Março-Abril 2021)
A Goan at the UN
