FAREWELL TO DUDA :: By Mário Cabral e Sá mariocabra...@yahoo.co.in I dedicate this column to Maria dos Anjos Messias Gomes e Rebello -- Duda to her family and her innumerous friends and admirers, among whom I was perhaps one of the oldest.
She was no famous personality, no beauty queen, though she was elegant and tall, with a very winsome smile, her companion even in adversity which never left her lips till her death on January 5, 2010. She was a woman with an incredible inner strength, hope and courage. Which was admirable in her circumstances. She suffered from cancer, one of the most treacherous and rare, a cancer of the pericardium, the membranous sac enclosing the heart. Oncologists give such patients days, maximum a month or two. But she survived it for two and half years, partly because months after she had entured it with sheer will power for a month or so, a new drug specific to her condition was launched, and promptly administered to her by her physician and nephew Dr Oscar Rebello. Never did her smile go away from her lips, even till her last breath. She celebrated Christmas and new year with her trademark joviality. The cancer had reduced her to skin and bones, but did not affect in the least her joie de vivre. When she realised that death was at her door, she called her three daughters-in-law, took out her jewellery box and offered each one of them the jewels they most admired. "I give them to you because I know you loved them most. I never got them valued and perhaps valuewise the distribution was not equitable. You will forgive me if that was the case. But that was not my intention." Who would be so thoughtful and articulate in her dying moments? She called Venezuela, where her favourite brother lived and died, like her, of cancer, and spoke to his son who she had taught Konkani, and in Konkani she spoke the last words. More: she called her nephew Kevin, Oscar's brother, and asked him to come. She had kept a gift for him and wanted to give it herself. And finally she told Dàmaso, her husband, "I lived enough and we lived happily." And she died at peace with herself. She had lived her life to the fullest. She had, just before, told her daughters-in-law the dress she wanted to be draped in for her funeral, the colour of lipstick and nail polish. Hers is an incredible story of fortitude and grace. A few months back, when her physical condition had deteriorated, her last son, Glen, got married. I went to wish her and Dàmaso and the bridal couple all the very best and to tell them that, much to my regret, I would not attend the wedding, my arthritis had worsened and I was in great pain. She wasn't home, she had gone to the hair dresser. Dàmaso, my old friend as Duda was, for over 60 years, opened for me a premium whisky which he preserved for 40 years or more, and we had a drink and were having the proverbial "one for the road", when Duda returned from the beautician all made up and georgeous as ever. She insisted I have lunch with them, told by the cook that it was a run-of-the-mill lunch, she went to the kitchen, and the excellent cook that she was, prepared in a jiffy an excellent meal. We all knew, she included, that death was at her door. But she went for the wedding, hosted the guests gracefully as ever, and danced all night. Did the reader ever meet a woman with such indomitable courage? I had not, till I met Duda. She was the daughter of Professor Messias Gomes, a graduate in English and German literature, by the Lisbon University. Besides teaching at the Lycé, he also contributed to newspapers like 'A República, a veryprincipled and independent journal founded and edited by Dr Antonio Jose de Almeida, a prominent man of letters and politician. When he was elected the President of the Portuguese Republic, he entrusted his newspaper to Messias Gomes, who ran it ably, till he decided to return to Goa and found 'O Heraldo', the oldest daily in the Portuguese colonies. It is in that paper that I cut my journalistic teeth and learnt what journalism is all about, at 20 years of age. At 22, I helped my colleague Dr Eduardo Dias to run it. I am 77 now and that is how long I became a close friend of the Messias Gomes family and knew Duda, a teenager then. Fare thee well, Duda. If a heaven there is, that is from where you will read these heartfelt lines dedicated to you by me. Courtesy: The Gomantak Times, Panjim January 12, 2010