http://www.saligaoserenade.com/2009/04/11/sights-and-sounds-of-saligao/
Sights and sounds of Saligao
April 11th, 2009 at 6:26 pm (Nature)
by Fr. Nascimento Mascarenhas
As a young lad growing up in Saligao in the 1940s and 50s, I remember
fondly what a joy it used to be frolicking around in the village,
soaking up the sights, sounds and smells of nature—all yet unsullied by
the trappings of urbanisation and modern-day encumbrances. Mother Nature
provided us young folk much pleasure and entertainment and pretty much
was central to my life. This despite the fact that we did have a
well-kept playground at the Mater Dei Institution and other playgrounds
in the village, where organised games of football, hockey, cricket and
other sports were a frequent occurrence.
The hills of Arrarim and Donvaddo in the southern part of Saligao were
always a favourite haunt of local villagers out for an evening stroll.
From the vantage points on the hills, one could feast one’s eyes on the
picturesque sunsets over the Arabian Sea while breathing in the
invigorating fresh air.
Calangute Beach
At times we would go for slightly longer excursions to the Calangute
beach. I accompanied the elders, along with non-resident Goans returning
to their roots for the summer holidays from Bombay, and other parts of
India and the globe. The churning of the waves, tossing the fishing
boats about gently, with the mellow, late-evening sun casting an
orangish hue over everything, made for a very pretty sight indeed. We
kids played in the sand, built sand castles, collected shells of
different colours and sizes, chased each other around and gazed at the
setting sun until the very last remaining sliver disappeared below the
horizon.
The charm of Calangute beach for us in those days was alluring, and the
source of inspiration for the famous song “Calangute” sung by our
nightingale Lorna Lui Cordeiro, reminding us how the Creator kept us
enthralled through the scenic beauty of nature, manifest in the frothy
waves, the swaying palms, the invigorating breeze and the spectacular
sunsets.
Today the picturesque sunsets and the beautiful beaches are captured in
brochures and books and tourists flock to the beaches and villages to
soak in the sun and click photos to show their folks back home. But in
the old days, although we had no cameras, the scenery was etched
indelibly in our minds, and will remain with us till the day we die.
Full Moon Nights
At the Mater Dei Institution, I remember the time our drawing master, Mr
Edwin Saldanha, asked us to draw a picture of the full moon. That night
the full moon shone brightly on Mother Earth. Observing all the minute
details in and around the glowing orb, with the room window wide open
and under the flickering light of a divó (kerosene lamp), I drew the
scene, and felt very contented and at one with nature. My companions too
displayed their paintings of the full moon during the drawing class the
next day. They were one better than the other.
Writing about this incident reminds me of the many long walks we used to
go for under the light of the full moon, returning home for a good,
restful night’s sleep. Our mothers, grannies and aunts took us out on
full moon nights as babes, and pointing to the moon sang “Chani mama
kekem dita…”
I am sure this scenic beauty of the full moon and all the lullabies gave
our famous tiatrist and lyricist C Alvares from Goletem in Saligao the
inspiration to compose “Dol Mhojea Bai“, a literary gem from the Konkani
film “Nirmon“, which is now considered to be a classic. At that time no
one had heard of full-moon-night parties—nature itself was intoxication
enough for all of us. I am told that nowadays parties on full-moon
nights are a regular occurrence at the Club West End nightclub close to
the Aquem spring at Mollembhat—most likely, with alcohol flowing and
music blaring into the wee hours of the morning.
Of Birds and Rain
We watched the flocks of the migratory and local birds including
sparrows, parrots and tailor birds in the sky and expressed admiration
at their synchronised, formation flight. Do you remember and still sing
“Uddon gelem parveanchem bhirem?“ It stirs great feelings of nostalgia
in me every time I hear it.
Speaking of birds, I remember vividly the day when quite close to the
compound of our house, an eagle swooped straight down upon a brood of
chickens and snatched one away in its claws. Neither my howling nor the
mother hen’s frantic “ko-kok” were to any avail. Nevertheless, I must
admit that observing the swift, swooping dive of the eagle at close
quarters was quite awesome-it was sheer poetry in motion.
We always waited eagerly for the onset of the monsoons. The
pitter-patter of the first rains on the tiled roofs was cue enough for
us kids to run under the gógó of our house for an impromptu bath-acid
rain would be something that future generations would have to contend
with! Friends from the neighbourhood such as Mohan, Naran and Surya
joined me in singing their version of the rain song in Marathi: “Êrê êrê
pausa, tula detô paisa, paisa zala khota, paus zala motta. Ega ega sari,
mhajê moddkê bari, sar allê dhauvun, moddke gele vavun.” The magic of
the first rains also inspired Oslando de Souza from Arrarim to compose
his immortal song, “Poilo Paus“.
There are no rivers in Saligao, only streams, brooks and a few ponds.
The flowing stream, a gurgle here and there, and even a splash of rain
water were all sources of great entertainment to us. The puddles of rain
water on the potholed roads seemed to be provided exclusively for us
children on the way home from school to soak our muddied feet in and
splash muddy water on friends who dared come too near.
Music to my Ears
We woke up early in the morning with the sounds of the cock’s crow or
the chirping of other birds at dawn. The calls of our namesake kole
(foxes) and various other animals including the cows, buffaloes, pigs
and dogs were music to our ears. When the wind blew and the coconut
trees swayed, we revelled in the wonders of nature. Even walking on dry
leaves produced a fascinating and unique crackling sound. I measured my
steps over these leaves as I listened to the whistling of the winds
filtering through the trees all around. The myriad sounds of Mother
Nature combined together to produce a majestic symphony that I would
never tire of hearing.
The sounds of the insects, the songs of the birds, the rustling of the
wind through the chanto trees, the burning of the bushes and korod
(grass) produced wonderful sounds. The singing, humming, whistling,
clapping, cracking of knuckles, wild yawning, coughing and snoring added
to the pleasant din. And if all that was not enough, kot’teô (coconut
shells), small bamboo sticks, fatull’leô (fine stones), tins and vattleô
(brass plates) were struck together to create rhythmic music. Quite a
number of people had gumots and kansallims, while others had bells and
chimbals. The cartmen tied bells to the necks of the bullocks carrying
belios and other commodities like beans, sweet potatoes, onions and so
on to Mapuca on Fridays, Siolim on Wednesdays and Calangute on Saturdays
for the weekly markets. The ringing of the bells were described in
Saligao as “kini kini boila”.
For Mother Nature’s bounty we are thankful. For me, writing this piece
has been a nostalgic romp back to the days of my carefree youth, in a
bygone era. Nature, of course, is still all around us, but it’s
questionable how much it is respected in this modern age. Oh the times!
Oh the customs!
3 Comments
1.
Victoria Lobo said,
April 20, 2009 at 2:29 pm
Dear Fr. Mascarenhas.
What a superb article you have written it brings back lovely
memories of my childhood days when I used to walk from Nagoa to Saligao
to Lourdes Convent School in the 1950’s. It was such beautiful feeling
and wonderful early morning refreshing walks. Whilst back home trying to
drop a raw mango by throwing stones then running with the raw mangoes
before we were caught by the owners of the mango tree. We enjoy eating
these by making hole into the mango, adding salt, tamarind and chilly
powder and enjoyed the taste of sour and pungent chilly powder. We tried
to collect conge from the fields to take home to our parents after
school. It was so much fun and wish it was still there for our future
generations.
Once again thank you Father for bringing back my childhood days
memories. I really relish in these moments of my days in Goa. On feast
of the days in May month we would go the hills to collect Kanta,
Churnam, Kajus, binnam all the other fruits our Mother Earth provided us.
I feel sad that there is hardly anything left of that kind of
villages in Goa after the destruction and evil that occurs now to Goa.
The beautiful Goa is no longer having much charm left of that era. In
olden days we could sleep in the nights outside without fear of any
kind. It is sad to see now that we are facing rapes, drug lords,
robberies, murderers, illegal mining, illegal constructions so many
other evil doers. We are losing Goan identity and losing our lovely,
serene Goa to outside invaders and migrants.
2.
Fr Nascimento Mascarenhas said,
November 7, 2009 at 3:00 pm
Thank your for your comments, Victoria. Yes it is sad that Goa
has changed. I guess it is up to all of us to do what we can to preserve
the traditions and heritage that we all love so much.
God bless you.
- Fr Nascimento
3.
Fr.Ivo da C.Souza said,
April 11, 2010 at 3:20 pm
By reading about Calangute beach, I refreshed my childhood
memories of my own village, Calangute, where we used to go every day to
the seashore together with our parents, brothers and sister, and often
with other relatives and firnes. We used to meet there people coming
from Saligao. I met my own seminary classmate, Nascimento, together with
his people. He was of quite socializing nature. He would be singing with
his group. Once I took our group of seminarians, from Saligao, Calangute
and other villages, to sing at the beach stadium. We needed permission
from the Bardez Municipality. I did all the arrangements. Unfortunately,
there was no electricity on that evening. The Regedor of Calangute told
us: “If you cannot sing, you can pray there”. We agreed to sing and to
pray. We sang a lot in darkness and also prayed together with the people
from every nook and corner, coming to Calangute beach. It was a good
experience.
I still remember how we used to go for bath to the spring
(motth), how we used to eat “beddsam”, kanddam and churnam on the route
to the spring. But we were afraid to eat cashew, because of bad
experience of our childhood… In one family, there was a father and a son
who would be excited and cruel, if anyone would eat cashew, even
children. They would not have the finesse of offering cashew to
children. But God has his own plans: the family disapeared. The son
became insane and died, the father died together with the whole family…
No trace is left…
I reminded one of his nephews, who was quite sad while recounting
his uncle’s misdeeds…
May Calangute people prosper in the shadow of Saligao brethren,
“uxelantle kole”…
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