DIASPORIC RE-VISITATION - Part 2

River-side Wharf
Water Colour & Ink
Painting by Tony Fernandes

DIASPORIC RE-VISITATION

Part 2

The house located on the perimeter of the village had undergone a major change. It was now a modern house with a terrace. But sadly Felicio could not find the old owners there. Apparently some people who did not speak Konkani had now occupied it. A few houses had somehow managed to keep up and maintain the old rustic pattern.

The next day, rising early in the morning, Felicio decided to take a stroll on the old path leading to the fields. He had walked along with other boys on this path on their way to school. But that was a long time ago. He tried to retrace the trail through the vast expanse of the fields. He was in disbelief to find that it was overgrown with wild plants and weeds. It appeared to be seldom used nowadays. Then as he was returning home he was pleasantly surprised at a remarkable revelation - to see a bus passing in front of his house that had “ST. ANTHONY’S HIGH SCHOOL, MONTE DE GUIRIM”, sign-written in bold blue letters on its side, picking up the students. That explained the overgrown weeds! No wonder, he thought, he could not find the old path to school!

One of the great experiences in attempting to relive the past was going to buy groceries from the market in the nearby town of Mapusa. One of Felicio’s neighbours was good enough to acquire a scooter for him. It took him nearly a week to muster the courage to venture on the street, another week to try and remember to keep to the left side of the road and join the rest in the general approach, method and style of driving, manner of honking, maneuvering, braking and turning either left or right. It was a different ball game. Since he could not fight them, he decided to join them.

In equally trying circumstances, it took him another couple of weeks to gather enough nerve in getting behind the steering wheel of a car and learn the peculiar art and special technique to get around in busy towns. He went to the bazaar everyday and bought fresh fish and vegetables and drank Kingfisher beer. He visited his relatives and friends, far and near. He went to the beaches with his new friends, saw the 'River Princess', and drank some more Kingfisher beer.

Getting across to the other side of the road in the market town was quite a feat - an accomplishment unlike the old days. He had to be very careful. Motor-cycles, rickshaws, buses and trucks whizzed by every second and in all directions. It seemed as if it was a free for all. After waiting for nearly five minutes to find a clearance between speeding trucks, buses, private cars, rickshaws and motor-cyclists he finally managed to cross the street. He felt it was indeed a major achievement. This happened everyday. And on every occasion when accomplished this feat, he thought he had triumphed, glad that he had emerged as a victor, thankful to be alive to tell the tale on the other side of the road.

In the first week of December he celebrated the Feast of St. Francis Xavier. People flocked to Old Goa throughout the month of December and then until the first week of January. Felicio managed to squeeze a suitable day one early morning. Rising up much before dawn he made a trip to Old Goa and unbelievably was home for breakfast by 8 am.

Combined with the ongoing festivities of IFFI, people flocked to the city, Panjim. On his visit to this beautiful city he had an impression that somehow some things had been left unfinished – pavements stones were stacked up in piles in several places. Government buildings, the balustrade along the river-side promenade and lamp posts were splashed with a fresh coat of paint.

Then it was Carnival – the gaudy floats made their rounds in the major cities – while tourists and Felicio walked around some unfinished pavements.

There was a slight lull in gaiety during Lent followed by some sobriety, moderation and solemnity in the villages. And by Easter it was time for us to join in the festivities of Shigmo.

Long ago there were times when Mapusa market place was crowded only on the day it was best known for – the famous ‘Friday Bazaar’ day. But now to Felicio every day had seemed like a Friday. It is shameful to mention what the wall that separates the bazaar from the bus station had become.

After circling around for about 15 minutes he eventually found a parking spot for his scooter where he could barely nudge in between two other motor-bikes, realizing that he had made a wise decision by not using his car to get there. Another major accomplishment, he thought.

There were hawkers everywhere – at the entrance to the market and on the pavements too. The walkways were full of a huge new variety of merchandise. Half-clad white tourists with locals in tow roamed around the crowded bazaar. Women in mini-skirts and big fat sweating men in shorts with huge bare bellies wandered amidst local folks. It seemed chaotically frightening.