"ANNTTICHO ADD'DDO"  (Aunty's joint!)

Most yesteryear Goans have come up the hard way. Initially, majority Goans were 
agriculturists. They cultivated paddy fields, millets, corns, sugarcane, etc. 
and 
supported their families. Wives helped their husbands and so did their 
children. We 
are proud of our ancestors’ profession.

Until almost the middle of the last century, women were confined to the kitchen 
and 
were mainly meant to produce children and look after them as well as the 
family: 
Remember, we followed the ‘joint family system’ then – the larger the family 
the 
better it was!

Today, most couples work and live on double income. In the past, only the head 
of 
the family worked; he thus became the sole bread winner. Women did not go to 
work 
outside their homes but they did their bit by remaining home.

They raised cows, buffaloes, pigs, chicken, goats, etc. and helped their 
husbands in 
supporting their families. They also cultivated orchards and produced onions, 
chilies and vegetables. The only profession that women were allowed to follow 
was 
“xivonn-suth” (tailoring and embroidery.)

During the Portuguese regime, many Goans migrated to Bombay and took up 
employment. 
They married and raised their families there. Very few women were educated then.

While women in Goa worked in the confines of their homes, Goan housewives in 
Bombay 
found a new job for themselves - that of an “Ayah” (Maid.) Practically every 
well-to-do household in Bombay employed Ayahs, but they preferred Goan Ayahs to 
others because they were sincere, trustworthy and hard working; they knew their 
job 
well.

Goan Ayahs in Bombay worked mostly in Parsi households. They supported their 
families, brought up their children and educated them. In many cases, while a 
husband drove the master’s car, his wife served as a maid and looked after 
their 
kids.

Just like cooks and butlers, Goan Ayahs also produced many intellectuals - one 
of 
them is the late Cardinal Valerian Gracias, who once said: That my widow mother 
is a 
poor woman is a hard fact and I am not shy of it. That his mother was an Ayah 
did 
not bother him at all. On the contrary, he was proud of his poor and illiterate 
mother who despite being so backward helped her only son to become a great 
intellectual!

Since the Bomboikars (Bombayites) inherited the British culture, words like Sir 
and 
Madam, “Sahib” and “Mem-Sahib” became very common, especially with cooks, 
butlers, 
drivers and ayahs, most of whom originated from Goa. They say: “When in Rome do 
as 
the Romans do.” Similarly, the above two words became so famous that everyone 
in 
Bombay picked them up and they became part and parcel of daily life.

In Goa, till today, people in their Sixties and beyond tend to greet you in the 
Portuguese style: “O Senhor/Senhora!” (Hello Mister/Ms.) The present Goan 
generation 
neither follows the Portuguese nor Konkani greeting. They use words like 
‘uncle’ and 
‘aunty’ to greet people, regardless of their relationship. In all the above 
cases, 
the greeting is out of respect; so, there is no offense to anybody.

Presently, most migrants in Goa use the word “Patranv” - derived from the 
Portuguese 
word ‘Patrão,’ meaning boss, when referring to or talking to his/her employer. 
This 
word is also used out of respect for the employer, regardless of his/her 
status. If 
you ask them not to address you as a Patranv, they politely say: “Hamko achcha 
nahim 
lagta hai patranv.” (We don’t feel comfortable boss!)

In Karnataka “Patrao” is a surname. There is a famous caterer in Mangalore 
known as 
‘Patrao Caterers,’ who caters for weddings and all types of functions.

By the Sixties, many Goan women ventured out in the Gulf where most of them got 
employed as house maids/governesses and a few as nurses and clerks. They 
remitted 
hard-earned money and supported their families in Goa and Bombay.

Per the Bombay Prohibition Act, 1949, the Liquor Prohibition was first 
introduced in 
State of Bombay (later Maharashtra) in 1950. However this policy was changed in 
1973 
and the restrictions on consumption, use, etc. were lifted.

In order to combat effectively the illicit liquor trade in the State, cheaper 
liquor 
known as ‘Country Liquor,’ locally known among drinkers as “movsumbicho soro” 
or 
orange juice liquor, was made available for sale.

Subsequently the Government enacted the Maharashtra Country Liquor Rules, 1973, 
under which distilleries holding license for distillation of spirit and persons 
holding license for possession and use of rectified spirit were permitted to 
manufacture country liquor.

Whenever a restriction was imposed it never succeeded; it only made matters 
worse. 
Until the early 1970s, Bombay was a dry area and we all know what happened then.

People began to distill liquor illegally and they used anything and everything 
they 
could lay their hands on, including dead car batteries, in order to make the 
country 
liquor: The result? Several people died every now and then, including Goans, 
not due 
to overdrinking, but due to adulterated liquor!

No doubt, many people minted money distilling and selling liquor illegally but 
at 
the same time they transferred many of their customers to the next world on an 
exit 
visa only!

The illegal liquor distillation trade in Bombay was controlled by male Goans. 
Some 
of these went on to become the leaders in the trade. They were commonly known 
as 
“Dada”. The “add’dde” (joints) were run by women.

Main places like Dhobitalao, which was and is still considered as the second 
home of 
Goans in Bombay, had a "Dada" (Leader,) who was in charge of the area, and who 
controlled the outlets selling illegal liquor. He also took care of the "hafta" 
(bribe) paid to the police and any other problems, including fights that took 
place 
in his area of responsibility.

Unlike local Goans who coolly sit at home and enjoy a good drink, the drinkers 
in 
Bombay had to be quick in drinking the stuff as if snapping something and 
running 
away.

"Ghorant bhattiek kaddlolo kontry vo navsakricho soro" (the home made country 
liquor 
made out of loaf-sugar, fruits, etc.) was sold at an “anntticho add’ddo” 
(aunty’s 
joint,) which is why it was commonly known as "anntticho soro" (aunty’s liquor) 
because many women were involved in distilling and selling the liquor.

Aunty’s joints were located in Bombay gullies. The moment one entered their 
quarters, one experienced a strange foul smell, which emanated from the 
“soreachi 
bhatti” (distillery,) which is why they always burnt agarbathis (incense 
sticks) to 
do away with the foul smell.

Most aunties wore the Goan vistid (dress,) which had deep side pockets on 
either 
side. Big bills were placed in one pocket and smaller bills and coins in the 
other 
pocket. They also made use of the ‘Godrej safe’ – “kurpet” (brasier) to place 
money 
in between their breasts.

The distilled liquor was placed in bottles and hidden everywhere in the house – 
in 
the cupboards, in the lower compartment of a showcase, under a pile of clothes, 
in 
between a gozddi/kulchanv (mattress), in the sump, in the toilet, etc.

Each aunty had her own spies who would keep a watch on her enemies and even 
alert 
her of the possible police raids. They were rewarded with drinks.

In Bombay, as soon as people finished their daily work, they, especially mill 
workers, proceeded to go home. On their way home, they would enter anntticho 
add’ddo 
and greet her thus: “Oh anntti! Koxi asai ghe? Amkam ek pavxer ghal!” (Hello 
aunty! 
How are you? Pour me a quarter pint!)

She would pour the liquor in a glass and say to him: "Vegim ghontt mar ani futt 
hangasorlo." (Gulp it down quickly and disappear from here.) Her rude behavior 
reminds me of an old colloquial saying: "Khanvchem-jevchem khuim ghovachem ani 
ghevchem minddachem,) which roughly translated means that a wife though 
supported by 
her husband is controlled by her lover.

The customer gulped down the stuff as if drinking water but the faces he made 
appeared as though he was taking Epsom Salt or consuming poison!

Freshly made pickle was kept in a plate on a stool by the exit door. He would 
pick a 
little pickle with a pinch, place it in his mouth and walk away while still 
making 
sour faces!

The aunties who ran the liquor business were very strong and courageous, as 
they had 
to deal with different types of customers - good, bad and rough ones. If anyone 
tried to act smart, the aunty would say: "Ar're xannponnam bond kor ani ugich 
ghora 
voch, nam zalear kaddun ek kanpod'dear ditelim!" (Hey, stop your smartness and 
go 
away quietly otherwise I will give one (slap) on your eardrums!)

Most of the guys listened to her and went away. If anyone didn't, she would 
slap him 
and then the bodyguard would show him the door in his own way.

There were two main reasons why Goan women in Bombay took up the country liquor 
distillation trade and its sale:

(1) Many husbands became victims of the home made country liquor. Distilling 
the 
liquor at home meant they could serve their husbands their daily quota. In 
fact, 
they (aunties) distilled two types of liquor – one for home consumption and the 
other for public consumption in which they even used dead batteries! Thus, they 
(aunties) became the main bread winners of the family.

(2) The police could not behave with women in the same manner as they behaved 
with 
men. Even when they wanted to raid a woman’s place, they had to be extra 
cautious 
because a woman could accuse them of almost anything including fondling, 
molestation, which they did many a times and put the cops in trouble. It was 
quite 
easy: The woman would tear the blouse in front, expose her breasts and put the 
blame 
on the police. She produced several eye witnesses and backed her case.

There were hardly any women police in those days. Women were inducted in the 
police 
force in greater Mumbai in the year 1939, and subsequently in the district of 
Sholapur, Kolhapur, and Pune in 1950. It was only after the Independence that 
women 
were appointed in the police force on a regular basis in different states, 
after the 
partition of India in 1947.

Moreover, females enjoyed privileges like carrying liquor from one destination 
to 
the other in taxis by tying the liquor filled balloon to the stomach. Anyone 
looking 
at the woman assumed she was pregnant. A male could not do that easily though 
some 
did it under the guise of a burka-clad Muslim woman, but it was dangerous, as 
it was 
not accepted by the public because just like Hindus, Muslims were not drinkers, 
at 
least in public.

How can we blame those who portrayed our ‘Bomboikarn aunty’ in movies? 
Actually, it 
was only one movie, an Amitab Bachchan starrer ‘Khuddar’ in which Mary (Praveen 
Bhabi) was shown carrying liquor tied to her belly.

Off the subject, when I was in Bahrain, The Young Goans Sports Club organized 
all 
the major dances like Come September Ball, Christmas Dance, New Year Dance, 
Carnival 
Dance, Easter Dance, May Queen Ball, etc. These dances sometimes lasted through 
4:00 
am and beyond.

In those days, police stopped cars after midnight and conducted on-the-spot 
balloon 
test to determine liquor consumption level. Those found under the influence of 
liquor were fined BD.300.00 plus imprisonment. Therefore, husbands who were 
high on 
drinks did not drive on their way back home but their wives did. Though women, 
too, 
would have consumed a couple of beers or so, the policemen almost never 
insisted on 
a balloon test on women. So, there you are – the woman always stands at an 
advantage 
over man!

As for portraying drunkard Catholic Goans in movies, aren’t many of our males 
living 
on their wives’ salaries? When husbands turn drunkards, there being no other 
alternative, many wives take up employment abroad, mostly in the Gulf, and 
support 
their drunkard husbands in Goa, who do nothing – “te bailechea khustar jietat” 
(they 
live at the cost of their wives!)

The wives of Goans in Bombay fed their husbands and provided liquor to them in 
their 
homes. Which wife will do that today? On the contrary, today’s woman will file 
for 
divorce the next day!

Those who dealt with liquor did not have a peaceful life. Police would raid 
them 
every now and then.

There were three types of raids (a) genuine raids conducted by the government 
authorities or police; (b) semi-genuine raids conducted by the police for not 
paying 
the "hafta", and (c) other raids which were directed by competitors out of 
vengeance.

The result: Both the distiller and the customer would end up in jail. The 
people who 
were most affected due to liquor restriction in Bombay were Goans. Here I 
remember 
some lines of a song by the late Kid Boxer which goes thus:

Marinakai mar bhaleanim
Noxib amchem khal'lam zorleanim
Soro bond kela mhunnon
Tondd kaem kelam cholea-cholianim
Bombaim tum amkam mevtai golieanim

(Don’t poke us with spears
For our luck is eaten by cockroaches
The liquor prohibition
Has saddened the youth of both genders
You meet us in the gullies of Bombay.)

However, the following song by the late Minguel Rod, the genius of the Konkani 
Stage, who composed classic songs based on his personal experiences, and who 
himself 
was a victim of country liquor (passed away at the age of 32,) will always 
remain 
one of the jewels for generations to come.

Here are the lyrics of his famous song "PETROL CHOLTA," which talks about the 
alcohol restriction in Bombay. Rough English translation of the lyrics follows:

"PETROL CHOLTA"

I
Goenkarancher Saiba, tum ragar zaloi khoro
Tuvem khast amkam laili gha, amcho sukon zala paro
Goeam aslelea lokak tum ekdom asai boro
Dekun tankam tum ditai pondra rupia kovso soro.

(You got angry with us Goans
And you punished us until we lost our weight
You are in very good terms with the locals in Goa
Hence, you give them a pot-full of liquor for only Rs.15.)

Chorus
Bomboi asleleanche tuvem motte bhognnar kele
Ani Goeam aslele edov porian xekovn nidonk gele
Aikon Goenchi khobor, amchea pottan dont mele
Inga chorieam irlem ami martale, tuvem tenkaim dhorun vele.

(You made Bombay Goans suffer a lot
The locals in Goa by now had their share and went to bed
The maw worms died in our stomach on learning the Goan news
We used to drink here stealthily but you raided and took them away.)

II
Pondra rupian passun Saiba, quarter kor amkam favo
Tum Goeam asleleancho fuim khuimcheanui bizoitai tavo
Soro athin dortoch ami, kitkim magnnim tuka favo
Ami khuimche te tum zannaim, to amkam voita tinga zavo.

(Please make a quarter available to us at even at Rs.15
You somehow seem to quench the thirst of local Goans
The moment we hold liquor in hand, we pray infinitely
You know where we come from - we need you everywhere.)

Chorus
To astoch sangatak ami kaibore dolta
Ani kai borem bailanchem aikon ghora ievun maimkui pett ghalta
Inglez Saiba naka, tem rokddench gunvddu halta
Amchem machine ekdom ghott Saiba, kontri petrol cholta.

(When he is in our company, we swing like anything
Upon returning home, we listen to our wives and beat our mothers
We don’t want English liquor - it immediately makes us feel dizzy
Our machine is very strong, even the country petrol is okay.)

III
Anik ek voros tum osoch, Mumboikarancher chavot
Ani urpache ami nam gha Saiba, atanch geleanv bavot
Tem vokot nastannam Saiba, Konknnem kitkoi teomp ravot
Punn Goenkar muineank ponsam voir jerul Mahalaximi pivot!

(If you keep up your angry mood with Bomboikars for another year
We won’t survive; we have already reduced in size
The Hindus can survive without that medicine for long
But Goans will surely end up in great numbers at Mahalaximi!)

Chorus
Soglleanche pavttin magtam, Saiba aikon mojem dhor
Orixtt ruk umtton poddtat tujem ek utor mhunnot tor
Zainam Saiba sonsunk, bhitor zovieank ieta zor
Konnem bond kelam tem der Saiba, tum vegin ugttem kor.

(Lord, I plead with you on behalf of everyone
Even huge trees get uprooted at the mention of your word
We can’t tolerate it, our intestines are burning inside
Whoever has closed the door; Lord, please open it for us soon!)

I salute the Goan women who made a living in Bombay by distilling liquor and 
thus 
raised and educated their children. In many cases, they were the sole bread 
winners.

Many a times we tend to feel insulted when someone points out to an ‘aunty’ and 
we 
take it to heart. We cannot deny the fact that the ‘Goan aunty’ distilled and 
sold 
liquor in Bombay. It is not a matter of shame because actually she worked 
within the 
confines of her home and supported her family. What can we expect others to 
think of 
us if our men laze around with a bottle while women work hard to take the 
family 
places?

As a matter of fact, the Bombay “sorekarn anntti” (liquor aunty) was respected 
by 
most so much so that she earned the sobriquet out of respect but very few seem 
to 
know these facts. The word ‘aunty’ becomes an offence only to those who think 
they 
belong to the elite society and who till today wish to be addressed as a 
bhattkar/bhattkarn or Sahib/MemSahib!

Many of the aunties who lived on the liquor business have passed away but there 
are 
still a few left who enjoy their retired life and the fruit of their retirement 
– 
educated children!

How can we forget ‘anntticho add’ddo’ and ‘anntticho soro’, and, more 
importantly, 
the ‘aunty’ who carved a niche for herself in the hearts of drinkers, and, who 
dominated the country liquor business in Bombay for around half a century? Long 
live 
the Goan aunty!


Moi-mogan,

Domnic Fernandes
Anjuna, Goa
Mob: 9420979201 


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