Tonferns Line Art

Carnival in Panjim, Goa.

In Goa, Carnival, or Carnaval in Portuguese, is a pre-Lent celebration held for three days beginning on Sunday before Ash Wednesday. It is full of fun and frolic for young and old. Clad in costumes and garbs of every style and colour, children, young boys and girls roam the villages from house to house showing off their fancy dresses. Sometimes they might be your next door neighbours in a costume you will probably not believe or recognize. But guessing who the reveler might be was part of the fun. 

Intruz (Carnival)

It was the premiere day of the Carnival,

The first day of the exuberant festival,

Morning as bright as could be,

Long shadows in the early dawn

Cast across the village earth so forlorn.

As grandma swept rhythmically

With besom in one hand

The other in a peculiar style of her own

Perched gently on her hip

The entire front courtyard

She swept tirelessly.

The crow perched on the branch

Of a nearby mango tree 

And cawed repeatedly;

She looked towards the crow and said:

“Is there a letter from my grandson for me?”

As she shifted her gaze from the arched pattern

Made from the constant movement 

On the cool morning earth

By the bristles of her broom;

She motioned to the hens and chicks in the backyard

To quieten down their very own grand symphony.

As noon almost drew near,

And the midday sun blazed over,

In the distance we saw the first moenkar,

Approaching dressed in a clown’s attire,

No sooner did he reach the front of the balcony

Than he started with a funny song in Konkani;

Grandma’s reward for which was a single penny.

For three consecutive days the typical moenkar

Roamed the village, from house to house singing songs;

Some went about in groups singing 

In Konkani, English and  Portuguese,

Proving their versatility

While others improvised with their one-act comedy.

On the last day of the carnival

As the evening slowly turned to dusk

And the bell rang for Angelus,

With a reminder from mother

That the next day was Ash Wednesday

When we would be yet again be reminded

That we as mortals will  finally turn to dust.

Then suddenly from far away

We could hear the jingles

From the bells tied to the waists

Of a gang of  moenkar

Hooded and clad fully in black

And called locally as devchar

Approaching near

They did strike some fear

In the kids who searched

For a place around the house to hide,

In the shed or in the storeroom at the rear.

But Grandma was brave,

She had handled many a devchar

And innumerable moenkar 

And witnessed many a Intruz

In her time before;

So daringly she held her ground

As she stood in the doorway.

She guessed right who the lads were,

But was polite enough she was

Not to mention their names

Of the faces

That hid behind the masquerade;

The lads did not a single word utter

Out of their own fear

Afraid as that would blow 

Their own cover.

But grandma said instead:

“Up there from the hillside

Of the village on the other side,

I am pretty sure who you are,”

“So take these four annas young lads,

And on your way you better be” she said sternly,

“I hope you know that Lent starts tomorrow,

So in church I will see you

On time and in the first row for sure.”

When we would yet again be reminded

That we as mortals will finally turn to dust.

O Doce Coracao

O Doce Coração do meu Jesus, 

Fazei que eu vos ame cada vez mais, mais.

O Doce Coração da minha Mae

Fazei que eu vos ame cada vez mais, mais.  

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Each image will tell a story.

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TEARS IN DISGUISE

TEARS IN DISGUISE

As I turned to depart
it hurt so much;

reluctant to look back

lest my folks and friends
see the tears in my eyes

that I tried hard to disguise

and if I could make believe

it was just plain cold sweat.

Tall coconut trees
in the gentle evening breeze
tried to firmly hold their sway;

outside on the patio at sunset,
men were absorbed in conversation,

while in the balcão

the women folk convened

 to plan paddy fields for sowing

in time before the onset
of monsoon rains impending.

Then as darkness fell

 and homewards I walked,

 seeing a score of people together pray,

by the wayside cross I stopped;

light from the candles

reflected in their faces

singing in perfect chorus,

their gaze at the cross

fixed as if by magic;

hearing them sing the Litany,

and unable to resist

I joined them in harmony.

Tony Fernandes

GOODBYE

GOODBYE

Goodbye and farewell are not easy

as they are always resonant

of nostalgia and yearning,

of anxiety and reminiscence,

to depart at the thought and uncertainty
of meeting again

those you hold so dear.

The old banyan tree still stood there aloft,
but somewhat stooped was the mango tree,
my name on its bark
when young I had carved

I could barely see.

The nunerca tree is long dead and gone;

It’s shade so cool that once sheltered

children ten score or more

playing beneath surroundings so sylvan.

The gulmohar by the village chapel
so magnificent,

though a little frail and bent

still brought back memories

of its flowers so fragrant.

  

“When will you return?”

My childhood friend asked

“I know not” I said as I gasped.

“Will meet again for certain

before I depart”

“Certainly we will” I heard him say

as to hide a tear I turned away.

Tony Fernandes

Happy Valentine's Day

ACACIA TREES OF FUJEIRAH

Acacia Trees of Fujeirah

Line Artwork by Tony Fernandes

An Ode to My Wife Edna

To My Darling Wife Edna

May God grant you always...

A sunbeam to warm you,

A moonbeam to charm you,

A sheltering Angel

So nothing can harm you.

Laughter to cheer you;

Faithful friends near you;

And whenever you pray

Heaven to hear you.

Happy Anniversary to my Wife Edna

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SrmPSnu-cA

AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

(B. Coleman / O. Kennedy)

Foster & Allen

Also recorded by : Andy Cooney; Tony Kenny; Pat Marnane.

My darling come to me

Sit you down easily

And rest awhile near the soft fire light

Cold is the night

But warm is my heart with pride

Having you by my side

You're still my guiding light

After all these years

Your soft assuring ways

The rock I lean on

Saw me through my darkest days

When all hope had gone

You're still the only one

I'll ever hold near

And I love you

After a-all these years

Time from me passes on

And I'm growing old

A lifetime nearly gone

I cannot unfold, nights dark and cold

But warm is your hand in mine

Feeble with aimless time

The light of love still shines

After a-all these years

Your soft assuring ways

The rock I lean on

Saw me through my darkest days

When all hope had gone

You're still the only one

I'll ever hold near

And I love you

After all these years.

NIMANNEO CHAR VOSTU.

NIMANNEO CHAR VOSTU
Morn, | Zoddti, | Iemkondd, | ani Sorg.

Meeting two wonderful people

Close to 13 years ago, the sweetest elderly couple from Lindsay, Ontario was seated in her section where my daughter was a server at Casey's. They got to talking and somehow her usual rants and raves about her parent's talents come up, and more specifically her Mum Edna Fernandes' recipe book and my collection of Short Stories.

As fate would have it, the gentleman revealed to my daughter that they do in fact, own their own Publication and would love to check out our work. One read is all it took, and The Jupes not only published our work but ended up becoming one of our nearest and dearest friends.

Sadly, Mr. David Jupe passed away 3 years ago today, after a two year battle with his health. RIP David Jupe and thank you for everything and inspiring artists like me and my daughter to always continue to create.

It is with extreme sadness that Edna, Dahlia and myself learned that our dearest friend and gentleman David Jupe from Lindsay, Ontario, passed away. Our most heartfelt sympathies, thoughts and prayers go out to David's wife Sheila and family. May his soul rest in eternal peace.

We have lost a great, fine, extraordinary and exceptional gentleman. I will always remember him, for so many things, for his wit and wisdom,
especially when I read his beautiful writings in his 2 books that he gave us, and for editing, printing and publishing my book and Edna's Recipe Book too.

David Jupe - You'll be missed.

I treasure and cherish this memory - a truly one of a kind chance meeting with my daughter Dahlia that eventually turned into a great family friendship with two lovely and amiable people - David and Sheila Jupe of Lindsay, Ontario.. Canada.