See submission below for the GOA SUDHAROP GOAN SENIORS E-BOOK. Please send your
essay to
[EMAIL PROTECTED] Regards, George
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Vacations In Goa
By Bella Comelo
My teenage vacations in Goa were the best vacations I could dream of. In mid
April immediately
after my final examinations, my family would make a bee-line for Goa. We
usually traveled by
steamers such as St. Anthony and Ratnagiri. Since I was young and agile at
that time, I was
assigned the task for running to the deck to spread the sheet and reserve our
place for the night
rest. On the steamer the hours passed by fast, as we made new friends, read a
book or joined the
group singing of Tambde Rosa Tuze Pole etc. As we approached the Panjim dock,
our spirits were
always up it was a real home-coming. At the customs we had to wait for ages
as the Portuguese
custom officers dug in our baggage. I dont recall what they were looking for
perhaps they were
just out to give the returning Goans a bit of hell. The coolies were another
lot to be dealt with
we had to bargain hard with them to carry our baggage thank God for the
pull-on suitcases we
have now.
For some time during the Goa blockade, we had to embark from the steamer at
Karvar then take a cab
to the border. At the border there was a no-mans-land which we had to cross on
foot in the hot
blazing sun- all this for the love of vacation in Goa.
After cleaning the cobwebs and settling in our house, we would leisurely go for
long walks in the
hills, read and eat lot of mangos, jackfruits and enjoy the xit-codi and fresh
fish. There were
always some weddings, feasts and salvos going in the churches or chapels around
us. Going for
salvos (the 9 days novenas) before the feast was what we looked forward to. My
neighbor and
friend Vigitacao never missed the salvos. Unfortunately, by the time she
ushered the chickens in
the coop, served dinner to her old aunt and locked the two dozen windows of her
huge house, we
made it only for half the salve. So we had good reason to stand out on the
churchs porch and
talk in whispers to the other girls and giggle softly at our own jokes. We
dared not talk or
laugh loudly, as there were always the older righteous women to admonish us
with hem Devachem
Gor keatac tumi anstat (this is Gods house, why are you laughing).
The one time we all girls made it a point to be in time and go inside the
church was when a padre
was preaching on the commandment Thou shall not commit adultery. Oh well it
was like a sex
education class. Vespers were held the night before the feast. After the
vespers there were the
fireworks. Children waiting eagerly to see the rooster and the hen burning
slowly amidst myriad
colored sparks. Compared to the fireworks of the 4th of July in USA this was a
little village
show. On the feast day we were always woken up with the rang-te-tang of the
local band. After
the two hour long High Mass, we endured the heat as we walked in the
procession. The men in
their vok-mus (a long white tunic and a red cape) and dozens of priests would
lead the procession.
It was fun buying kadio-bodios and mannas at the feast fair.
The weddings were traditional. The whole village people were invited. This was
also like a meat
market-parents watching to see if there were eligible bachelors or spinsters
for their kids.
After a few pegs of feni it didnt matter what tune the band played, the older
couples did their
own style of dancing. Once, I watched an older couple twirling round oblivious
of the fact that
the band had stopped playing.
How could I forget the Mapuca Friday bazaar. On Fridays, we would go to Mapuca
to buy provision to
take back to Bombay. Cashew nuts, dried mangoes, dried chilies coconut vinegar,
chanas, sausages
etc. My mom would be busy making pickle, balchao, doss etc which we would haul
back to Bombay.
To cool ourselves, we would also go to the Pomburpa zor (spring) and maybe a
few days to the
Calangute beach. We would rent a small shack and cook fresh fish and rice- and
oh the moonlight
walks on the beach! I cannot even locate the places where the cottages were
before, Calangute has
become a great concrete jungle The poor fisher folks have been displaced by
rich developers.
Before we knew it, it was the end of May and it was time to pack and get ready
for our journey
back to Bombay. To be in time for the steamer, we had to get up at the crack of
dawn and take the
small canoe from Aldona to Panjim. The Mandovi river looked calm and placid,
with birds just
chirping to greet the new day, but alas, for us it was time to bid adieu to Goa
and our idyllic
vacation.
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