Thanks to Alfred for the material, he has not traced the source of the melancholy piece. We thank the author. Eric. The Sea-King - A Goan Seaman's Story Minguel Antonio Piedade Gonsalves was born in Sinquetim, a large ward of Navelim village, the third child of a poor mundcar couple. He had nine other siblings, jointly the cause of his parents having to do all sorts of odd jobs in addition to their back-breaking share-cropper occupations.
As a child Minguel was the most spirited and energetic and yet the most respectful, often being rudely compared to the runt of the litter. It was these qualities that made one of his uncles who lived in Bombay and worked in the Port Trust, decide to take Minguel with him for a better life in the city. What could his parents do but acquiesce to what looked a better future than that he could expect in Goa. So, when he was 14, Minguel tearfully left his family and took the first leg of many stages of the trip that would finally land him in his uncle's house in Umerkhadi. In those days there was no direct transportation from Goa and one would be lucky to reach a Bombay destination in less than 48 to 72 hours. Especially if one's travel budget did not allow for shorter routes. He was placed in St. Joseph's School which had a largely Mangalorean student roster. Second only to of course the Muslims whose community dominated the neighborhood. By the time he was 18, he decided to drop out in commiseration with the lack of funds of his uncle and his desire to be independent through employment. The kindly priest in charge of the bursary at St Joseph's would always meet the shortfall in fees, uniforms and text book expenses but Minguel was a free spirit and had no desire to be obligated. In no time at all a sympathetic soul in the municipal housing projects where he lived, took Minguel to the Seafarers Union and got him a job on a foreign tramp steamer. Minguel had at last found his niche. The brotherhood of Goan sailors who transited Bombay to and from their villages in Goa were a united lot. They were utterly honest with each other. They had a self-imposed hierarchical system among themselves, based mostly on the years at sea. On returning from their long global voyages, they would meet their fellow-kudcars in the many clubs or Goan kudds that dot Dhobitalao, Girgaum, Cavel and even Ballard Estate and parts of the Fort Area. There they would debrief and that information would be used profitably by those coming from Goa and on to the lines at the Seaman's Club for jobs on the next available tramps, ro-ros, liners or tankers. As he prospered, Minguel married Felicidade and built a small modern house on a minor parcel of land that his friendly bhatcar sold to him at a very concessional price. Minguel knew his place and though his house contained all the comforts of life, none of it was ostentatious and none of it flaunted in the face of his bhatcar. It was in these pleasant surroundings that Feli gave birth to Minguel's son Valeri, a name taken by Minguel from a large Russian tanker that crossed his ship in the mid-Atlantic on one of his voyages. Felicidade was an educated Goan girl whose father was a PWD contractor from Portuguese times, belonging to the same low caste as Minguel. Make no mistake. Every little luxury that Feli and little Valeri enjoyed was paid for with the blood, hard work and loneliness of Minguel at sea. He endured all manner of insults from the officers and all kinds of rough treatment from crew of various nationalities that he encountered. But so did his other Goan brother seamen. And none of them let out the slightest hint of that endurance to any of their family back home in Goa. Even over drinks at the local bar. One day on his return, he presented his son with a Sea King swiss-made wrist watch from Favre Leuba. That model along with the Sea Chief also made by Favre Leuba was a favorite among Goan seamen. They gave it to their sons and to any of their non-seamen friends they genuinely liked. Feli raised Valeri in the best Goan traditions. He was a an academically gifted boy and shone through school and college without much effort. In time he was admitted to the prestigious Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and in his final semester he was recruited as a management trainee to work at Merrill Lynch in Manhattan at their Bond Desk. Within three years, Valeri was a VP sent out to bolster the Houston office to rake in all that oil money from their major accounts in that city. Wherever he went he carried his father's Sea-King. He didn't wear it for fear it would tarnish, but being automatic, he ensured it kept on working continuously. It reminded him of his father who had missed out on many of the family's milestones. Minguel was proud of his boy but Valeri knew nothing of the ship's toilets cleaned and the officers' cabins washed by his father to make a living they enjoyed. He knew nothing of the small quantities of gold that Minguel fearfully smuggled through Indian Customs from time to time to pay for the IIM fees, nor the tearful submission to a pederast skipper on one ship who threatened to have his CD Certificate invalidated for insubordination if Minguel did not cooperate. On his last voyage, Minguel's ship needed to pass through the South China seas. This long stretch of water is well known for its bad weather, typhoons and turbulent seas. Minguel wanted to make it his last. He had a good home waiting for him, a son who was a big shot in the USA and he wanted to spend the evening of his life in Goa with his loving wife Feli who had made the sacrifice of absence of her husband as intensely as he. The Gods of the South China seas had different ideas. When he heard the news, Valeri was in St Louis Missouri. Quietly he took the diamond encrusted Rolex Oyster Perpetual from his slim left hand, walked to the Louis Vuitton, took out the Favre Leuba Sea King and placed it lovingly where the Rolex had been. This story is dedicated to of New York and Alfred Tavares of Sweden. Two gentlemen whose knowledge and experience have always enriched.
