Hanv Saiba Poltoddi Vetam
-brian mendonca
Come next weekend I shall be going to the other side of the river in Goa.
I shall be doing what the maiden in this beautiful dekhni from Goa does.
Composed by Anna Jacques 400 years ago and sung in Konkani, the verses describe
how the maiden implores the boatman to ferry her across the river to attend
Damus wedding. The popular refrain by the maiden Ghe ghe ghe ghe ghe, ghe ghe
saiba had also been deftly worked into the lyrics of Na chaahoon sona
chaandi, in Raj Kapoors 70s hit movie Bobby starring his son Rishi and
Dimple Kapadia as the lead pair.
Goa has always looked kindly on lovers and those who want their space. And in
quest of discovering the place and finding themselves, they set out on a
journey always unfinished, leaving a trail across road and river.
Road and river share an intimacy the sea cannot. There is always the crossing
of rivers in Goa, be it the Mandovi river across Caranzalem to Divar island by
ferry-boat, the Zuari river between Cortalim and Agasaim, or the Chapora river
skirting the banks of Camurlim. Crossing the river to the other side implies a
journey inward, a sense of being transformed when you get to the other side.
When people make remarks about Goa I wonder whether they have done a
river-crossing in Goa. I wonder if it is only the media which is the barometer
of Goas health. Does the entire state and its diaspora have to stand trial
because of an incident? Is it the only place these incidents happen? Why arent
similar incidents occurring in Delhi reported with equal zest in the Goan media?
A sunset in Goa has hues besides scarlet. We are not condoning anything here
the sooner the mess is cleared up the better. But scarlet is a glamorous
colour, my friend had said. And I had to agree. On the one hand the media
drools over Goa as a tourist destination. On the other, they cry themselves
hoarse when events which are an outcome of the very things they hype, are
perpetrated.
These mornings before I rush to work, I practise Goan folk songs, viz.
dekhnis, mandos and dulpods on a Yamaha C40 classical guitar I picked up
near Manneys, Pune. This is for a Goan nite every Thursday at Cocoa café at the
swish new Citywalk mall at Saket. Chicken xacuti and pomfret reixaddo will
also be on offer. I am told that Shailesh the proprietor is head over heels in
love with Goa --inspite of reading the papers. I am also throwing in two
Portuguese songs Eu Daria Minha and En Costa Tua Cabecinha. Some of my friends
still swoon whenever I tell them I am going to Goa. Veronica, this morning has
asked me to get her Goan sausages from Goa and Shobhan has asked for the
irresistible Portuguese dessert bebinca.
It helps to cross the river to know where your roots are. As I listen to Lucio
Mirandas sonorous Hanv Saiba Poltoddi Vetam the last of the troubadours,
as he accompanies himself on the guitar, I am humbled by our songs, our
river-crossings and our quest for truth on the skirts of desire.
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Brian Mendonça is a Goan poet who lives in Delhi. His self-published debut
volume Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa (2006) has been reprinted. His second
volume, also self-published, A Peace of India: Poems in Transit is forthcoming
this year.
