Demons among lotus eaters

The only locals that a visitor to Goa is likely to meet are taxi drivers, bartenders, waiters in restaurants, vendors of trinkets and fake brands of watches, clothes and electronic goods, tourist guides and the odd crooner on a cruise on the Mandovi river.

But more often than not these would be no locals at all but Kannadigas and Malyalees, Biharis and UPites, Kashmiris and Nepalese. Except for the last two, whose distinctive features set them apart, the others pass off as natives. They speak Konkani fluently, know the lay of the land and are knowledgeable about shops which offer the most alluring discounts.

Nothing seems to irk the Goans more nowadays than the presence of these ‘outsiders’. Or so you think until they begin to speak about non-Goans who are buying apartments and bungalows by the scores every year.

Some use them as holiday homes, others as an investment, still some others to strike roots. But the end result is the same. The real estate boom generates fears that Goa will soon lose its identity and, by and by, render Goans strangers in their own state.

A recent editorial in a local newspaper lamented the ‘slow and gradual destruction of Goan ethos and identity.’ Goa, it thundered, is disappearing. What is vanishing even faster is land. It is ‘sold at astronomical rates to outsiders causing problems to small locals who are still residing in the state.’

Then follows a series of grievances: the failure of successive governments to reduce unemployment among Goans, the near absence of Goans in the upper echelons of the civil service, the import of agricultural goods from other states which, taken together with construction work, accounts for the fact that fields now lie fallow. Goans are left with no choice but to seek jobs outside the state.

The burden of this dirge is as unexpected as it is outlandish. It sees some merit in a proposal that one of the state’s most controversial politicians, Churchill Alemao, advanced the other day. Land, he suggested, should not be sold to outsiders.

It should be kept for locals as in Kashmir. No one asked Churchill whether the locals could command the investments needed to build resorts and hotels, sorely required to attract tourists. And are they inclined to work as hard as the dreaded ‘outsiders’?

In fact, the ‘outsiders’ do not raise such questions as sharply as do Goans who have come back to settle down in the state after working in cities like Mumbai or overseas.

They deplore the tendency of their kinsmen to blame the government for just about every problem festering in Goa: from the garbage piling up at street corners, the lowering of educational standards to high crime rates and the rising tide of communal animosities.

This last issue has acquired ominous proportions in recent years. Goans regarded their state as a cradle of ethnic and communal harmony. Hindus and Catholics have prayed to the same goddesses, taken part in the same festivals, observed the same rituals and, above all, made common cause to defend Konkani language.

Of late, however, the demons of communalism seem to pop up everywhere. An environmental issue, a cultural award, an appointment to a government committee, the composition of the state cabinet, not to speak of the outbreak of violence: all this is swiftly construed in communal terms. Newspapers, too, are construed in this fashion: this one is pro-Catholic, that one pro-Hindu.

All this is a far cry from the mauve prose you find in tourist brochures and newspaper advertisements put out by the state’s publicity department.

Along with the sun, sand and sea, it extols the beauty of the state’s churches and temples to emphasise the state’s ‘harmonious blend’ of East and West and of the coexistence of diverse faiths.

But in this land of lotus eaters Catholics now blame the votaries of Hindutva for raising the communal fever and the saffron brigade, in turn, points an accusing finger at the Vatican for seeking to convert the heathens.

But something about Goa’s charm can still be found if you look hard enough. One comes across it in the classified advertisements in local newspapers. Some offer to teach the guitar, banjo, mandolin, piano, harmonica, saxophone, drums, even castanets.

Others promise to make you proficient in waltz, fox trot, jive, disco, tango, bolero etc. Matrimonial ads are even more arresting. Brahmin Roman Catholic grooms all seem to be on the look-out for slim, homely, Brahmin Roman Catholic ‘spinsters.’ Even the communal demons cannot scoff at such small mercies.

Email: dileep.p@apcaglobal.com