Bombay to Goa - The Little Odyssey

Panjim Jetty

THE LITTLE ODYSSEY

Bombay (now Mumbai) has been a second home to many Goans who have lived and worked there for generations. Nevertheless, they have not lost touch or their love for Goa. During the months of April and May, entire families will flock to Goa for their annual summer holiday along with their kids, soon after school final examinations. These two months have traditionally been the most enjoyable months, full of fun and frolic for everyone. The purpose of visits are many-fold; some of them are to get away from city life, holiday for parents and the kids, while other reasons are to carry out necessary repairs to ancestral homes and visit their loved ones. In the old days, many of us looked forward for such holidays. It would be an unforgettable experience. For most people the modes of transport to travel for this holiday was by steamer and bus, and to some by rail and air. Of all these, traveling by ship was the most popular and full of excitement. It was as though one large Goan family of more than five hundred members traveled for one mega holiday to one common destination: GOA. Here is my own experience.

It was the month of February
Not losing count of any single day
In quite a hurry
I seemed to be;
Thoughts of getting away
From life in the city
Of bright lights
Bus, tramcar and train
Far away from the hustle
And bustle of Churchgate,
Fort and Flora Fountain.

Endless waiting
Thoughts of school days
And final term examinations
Seemed never ending;

Memories of mangoes
Jack fruit and cashew apples
Were in the offing
Their aroma I imagined
And was for a while lost
In far away thoughts
And awakened by the sudden screech
Of a train speeding.

“Just one more month, son”
Mum and Dad seemed to comfort;
Dad has his suitcase
And holdall at the ready;
Mum has been shopping
For summer wear
At the local market fair.

Tickets are booked
Dad has made sure of that
“We will be going by steamer” he said.
“Aunty Pam and kids will join us too”
Said Mum in the summer
of nineteen sixty-two.

The day to leave for Goa
Has finally arrived
The Ambassador taxi
Is waiting down by the kerb-side;
Off to Ballard Pier before dawn we head
And on board our place we finally get.

The steamer’s deck is full;
There seems to be quite a din,
Each in their own place,
The great journey is about to begin,

The ship sounds its siren,
With a mighty roar
As it lift its anchor.

There’s slight rumble on deck
As tugs pulls it out to sea;
In the distance
The majestic grandeur
And awesome structure
Of this landmark
Gateway of India
Grew smaller and smaller.

Soon we head south
Along the hazy coast on our left,
On the right we see the huge expanse
Of the Arabian Sea;
While for some at the start
Of the twenty-four hour journey
Seems to be to quite dizzy,
Slight pitching of the ship
Only a short-lived agony;
Others are quite at ease and jolly
Perhaps having traveled
So many times before
That they lost count
In their memory.

It is midday out at Sea
Ship’s canteen is busy;
Gathered on the aft deck
It’s a hot summer’s day
A bunch of teenagers
Have already got started
With their guitars tuned;
Joined in shortly with some new friends
They have a go with the first round
It’s the beginning of our summer holiday
With the popular hits of the times
Of Cliff Richard and the Shadows
Bachelor Boy and Young Ones.

Its evening
With breeze from the south-west
There is a slight lull on deck;
The ocean’s waves are high
It seems the ship’s constant roll
Had its toll
For many are now relaxed
After a short snooze.

Silhouettes of seagulls at sunset
Formed flying patterns,
As the passing ship heading north
On our starboard side
Seemed to bellow
With its siren a huge hello;
Promptly acknowledged
By our ship that woke up
Many a tired fellow.

It was supper time
The silvery moon
Seemed to smile
With its reflection
On the starboard side
Leaning on the rail
We took it all in
And young men sang
Lilting melodies of moon songs
As we sailed along in the splendid night.

Astern the moon lit up
A white trail of surf in its wake;
Aft deck above the horizon
The Pole Star
Posed as a direction finder
Amidst the seven bright stars
Spanning the northern skies
In the mighty constellation
Of the Great Bear.

Fishing line cast out into the sea
A lone sailor

Joined us later

As he stared into the dark horizon
And before everyone fell asleep
Narrated mariner’s stories,
Great travel adventures and life at sea.

Dreams on the upper deck that night were plenty
If fact a huge string of them,
Happy and lengthy;
Thoughts of Calangute,
Colva and Miramar beach
Friday Mapusa Bazaar;
Visits to Goa Velha
And Dona Paula.

After a marathon journey and a long night
The sun seemed to be in no hurry to rise,
The landscape seemed familiar
Something I have seen in the years earlier
Dad pointed out to me
The distant forts of Tiracol and Chapora
And the oldest lighthouse of Asia
At Fort Aguada;
He seemed to hold court
For almost everyone on
On the ship’s portside
As we to our destination
Were getting closer .

The ship glided gently
Through the delta and sandbar
At the mouth of the Mandovi River
Edging towards the quay
Some admire the beauty
Of the city of Pangim
To our left other admire
The beauty of the hills of Betim.

Dreams will shortly turn into reality
Uncle Seby will come
To fetch us hopefully
In a reserved ‘Opel Rekord’ taxi
Taking us to our ancestral home finally
With an experience of what seemed to be
A little odyssey.