(originally written on 4th December 2002. Last year. Just thought to share it with you all - Cecil)
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Forgive my language and grammar - but I had to get this thought down before it slipped way.
Yesterday evening (3rd December) I went with Beatrice, Desmond & Fabian for our annual pilgrimage: to stand in a long snaking line and take the 'umanv' of St. Francis Xavier. As we shuffled along, with little Fabian getting restless in my arms, I saw the long queue ahead of me and knew for sure things would always be fine in Goa.
The queue in fact was a micro-ism (or whatever the correct term is) of Goa itself. Colourful, multi cultural, multi religious, peaceful, reverential.
There were the obvious Agshemkars females in their zogxogit festa best, and the occasional suited booted Catholic male constantly wiping his sweaty forehead. The older Hindu women from Bicholim: their kapodds contrasting with the gold inlaid, and slightly stiff, sarees of the younger women. The recent male Gulfee with thick gold ornaments and a young wife in tow, and the seasoned Gulfee in open sandals, a portly wife and three grown up children, a digital camera and a camcorder. The noisy Indian tourists attired in Govinda style. One was even speaking on his mobile while in line. But once the line entered the interiors of the church everyone was silent.The obligatory white foreigner couple seemed quite amused by this riot of culture. And the lungi clad Keralite carpenter and his brood of six children. The Government servant, long sleeves rolled up, with his wife and two kids. The Sashtikar who had imbibed a bit too much. The cute little boy with a dribble revealing that he had just eaten a chouriso pao. The recently married couple trying not to be too obvious with their big heart shaped balloon purchased in the fairi. The new Catholic bride with bright red dress and bangles up to her elbow. The elderly woman with arthiritis who had a rosary in her hands and was deep in prayer.
I could go on, and on... But Ben Antao, with his mastery of words, would probably describe it much better. But you know what I mean.
What is important is that this is how it is here in Goa.
Colourful people of all cultures, religions, states and countries visit, stay, live and work here. As long as there is a shared icon of faith, St. Francis Xavier, there is hope. All the conniving machinery of the rabble rousers will come to nought as long as we stand in line - with reverence to a higher power.
Cecil
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