As I'm not a historian, the word is mum on the history of Goa. But, as a Goan, I need to say something; it is in my genes, I cannot shut up! If we Goans could shut up then we would all be Buddhists by now, wouldn't we? Gautama Buddha after his enlightenment did not utter a single word for days. He later said: Truth cannot be communicated through words, logic or debate. Is it any wonder the Way of the Buddha disappeared from our country, and his seed took root and even flowered in fertile soil all around the world? God bless Goa's Kosambi, our finest intellectual (even though Buddhists don't believe in God.) I'm not a professional psychologist either. As I said earlier, a Goan cannot shut up. I have studied the subject on my own, though. Do I get any academic credit for it? Oh, never mind, I'm a Goan who loves to play games (except for soccer, of course.) And, as the wag from Ponda observed "Why fight over one ball? Give every player one each." The witty wag I cannot help but notice is even less of a psychologist than I am: if we ban soccer there will be war! Anyway, here goes. As an observer of Goan affairs (I could not think of a more pompous word so it will have to do!) looking back as far as I can with my poor eyesight, during the Portuguese era we Roman Catholics cushioned up to the fair-skinned Westerners and were soon in bed with them. As a result of our labors of love, the fruit of our loins was much appreciated by the Portuguese, having a much higher value than other fruit available in the market. The other fruit, no doubt, were bitter and a divide was born and nurtured over the centuries. As is to be expected, the hybrid fruit were dipped in holy water while the indigenous fruit were washed in the Mandovi and Zuari rivers. The two rivers in our days of glory were clean and unpolluted by oil and development, and other unmentionables from boats and casinos. Nowadays, the hybrid and the indigenous fruits do not look favorably on the two rivers. Furthermore, the indigenous fruit do not like the flavor and taste of the hybrid fruit - the latter had a privileged upbringing as the owner of the field was their protector and patron saint. With the departure of the Portuguese, air (fresh air?) from India began to flow into Goa. While this was something new, and an occasion to celebrate for the indigenous fruit, the hybrid fruit felt uprooted and robbed of their heritage. They started to lose their sweetness and there was more than a little taste of bitterness in the mouth. With the master of the fields gone, their hybrid roots started to wither, and sometimes even died. Some fruit trees chose to be transplanted abroad, mostly in the Middle East and fertile Western soil. With climate change and other unplanned negative factors, it did not always make for a happy ending to the story of the hybrid fruit; and now, Brexit. You see, during the Portuguese era, there was enough sunshine and rain, the sort which helped the hybrid give tasty and lovely fruit. But then, nothing lasts forever. After the end of colonialism, the hybrid fruit had to learn how to live without any of their previous support. They needed to be rooted more deeply in the new local soil, and to cooperate with one another; something they had never really done during the colonial era, and have as yet not learned to do successfully. They were always competing with one another to be the choice of their master, and to occupy the numero uno seat on his right side. Unfortunately, learning to cooperate among themselves without the presence of their Portuguese masters soon appeared to be something the hybrid fruit could not do well, and, as a result of a lack of cooperation, gradually weakened, much to the delight of the indigenous fruit. The two prized fruit, jack and the other whose name I cannot now recall, started a non-cooperation movement of a sort in Goa. Was it to fight the British or the Portuguese? Of course not as both had already emigrated to their own countries. The movement over the years has grown from strength to strength, and is extremely popular to this day. So much for the history of the hybrid fruit, the star of which is none other than jackfruit! After this, good times began for the indigenous fruit. But, not for everyone! If there is a great divide between the hybrid and the indigenous fruits, there is also a subtext among the indigenous fruit. Some species of fruit are more equal than others. Farmers and local fishermen, for example, are at the bottom of the stairway leading up to heaven. They are, in short, not delicious enough fruit, and are an unwanted variety of low-quality fruit. This variety of fruit cannot be brought to a respectable dining table even for display, forget eating. The poor quality fruit during the Portuguese era and after political independence are now in contentious waters or in a field where the soil is not good enough. Not much of a life for them. The low-quality fruit did not fetch much of a price during the Portuguese era, and although fresh air (I'm told) blows strongly from India into Goa, this variety of fruit is unable to reach fruition. The good fertile ground and clean water is only for high quality fruit to power the wheels of development, not for low quality fruit. For low-quality fruit during colonialism and after, there has been little change for the better.
