wish fulfillin'

I come to Ruben's to write. I like to check my mail and reply to letters I get, as far as possible. This and a few other chores I perform routinely. I would rather have this facility without interruption. It is almost a rule with me. Ruben's is not an exciting place. It is, if anything, gloomy. There are many signs(like stacks of old greeting cards no one bought) in his cybercafe suggesting the initial enthusiasm & hopes of the man. The only thing which seems to be working there is his computers. They are fast, and Ruben knows pretty much about computers - at least as much as he may need to run a cybercafe. Besides, he is quite and he is friendly. I can write in Ruben's cafe without interruption. The cell phone, a recent addition to my material belongings, does not ring. That, and only that brings me here. It is a bit away from where I live, but that is O.K. For I have the pleasure of networking uninterrupted. That is a blessing. But then I am not an island. I depend on certain things over which others can lay a claim to proprietorship. Like the bike I ride on is borrowed. I hope my friend and owner of the bike did not need it while I was gone.

On the last February day

Follow up to yesterday:

This morning I set out without delay. I met Vivek Nadkarmi on the way. Vivek was fun in school. He was my elder brother's friend actually, but I got to befriend him too. Our meeting lasted for some long minutes, but then I got to Panjim.

In Panaji state registrar's office, I met Mr. Bodke, the assistant registrar. Prior to that I was sent to district registrar from Margao dist. registrar's office. Mr. Bodke was kind enough to explain to me that coming all the way to Panjim was a round about way. He said that I should have registered my application for the document I am looking for in the Canacona sub. registrar's office. "I did", I said, But I was asked to come to Panjim. I found that a bit strange so I asked my advocate. He suggested I go to Margao. There I was asked to go to Panjim."

Mr. Bodke called up the canacona office and admonished the man who admitted to sending me to Panjim. And "since you are here, apply for tha doc here and I shall send it to Canacona. They will then send it back to me. Thereupon I shall forward it to the assistant public information officer who will send you a letter to come and collect the doc. against a nominal fee." he said very informatively.

Here I was, after all that shuttling from Canacona, to Margao to Panjim and back, being asked to go back to Canacona again. I would I said go there if it is the easier way and if that would excellerate the proceedings. "Yes", said Mr. Bodke, it sure will!"

How long would all this take, I wanted to know.

One month at least, was his answer.

See?

I managed to get up in the morning today, early enough to get to Panjim archives to dig into some legal documents I happen to need at the moment. I need my grandfather's will! He died in 1921! As I was preparing to sit up in my bed, I saw the compilation of busy bee (Behram Contractor) columns from the '80s. I was tempted to read, as I always am whenever I see clever writing. I began reading. I know that I started reading. What I do not know is when I fell asleep again! When I woke up it was 10 a.m. I rushed, and shaved and put on decent clothes and hit the road. I have no car yet. I have a mo bike, but that is in Pondy. I have to depend on the whims of public transport. The long wait for the city bus put me behind by another twenty minutes or so, but I did reach the bus station from where I was to take the shuttle to Panaji. At 11.00 a.m., the q is huge. I stood in the line for my turn which never came, because I saw that it was 11.44 a.m. By the time, I calculated, I would touch Panaji it would be 12.45 +. That meant I would have to wait for the office bearers to resume work for the afternoon session. That's at 2.00. In Indian it could mean anything from 2 p.m. In Goa, you may expect the officer in q to arrive any moment after 2.25. And then the usual requests, explanations for my intent, and, if the officer turns out to be a helpful, wait till he finds the right file from 1928 register of s! (remember?) My calculations told me that it was not such a good idea to Go today. I called my friend. He suggested I buy some canvas and start painting. A wise piece of advice indeed! I bought some single width affordable obscurity, which I realised, stretches endlessly as you pull it onto your stretcher. But guess what? I HAD SOMETHING DONE today! Goa is great.

One month's reflection.

I left for Goa on 17th. Then I met John, through him Victor, who, in a typically AGoan way, asked me to stay with them. Allie, too, was sweet in accepting a stranger's presence in her home. I had not met Allie until this time. And then I began 'reconnecting'. I was beginning to conclude that Goa has changed. That may even be true if by Goa I'd meant just the physical assets of fields and hills. I did not mean it that way. I meant that Goans along with the landscape had changed. Has it really, and have they? Last night we were in Benaulim (riverside). Great food, really good food!! But... Two 'supporters' of some 'cause' were with us. They were from the big builder's lobby, what with ministers at their beck and call, and all that. They were both Goans, from Salcete. And they warmed up to talk. I wished they had not. One of them had a posh merc. And I did see that he was wearing a Rolex. Rolex? Rs, 2000000.00 on that unworthy wrist? And why not? His undrewear mnust cost a fortune! But then, what about things which matter-at least to me? The other, also a builder, had the background of being in the Konkani language agitation. He was on about that all the while, telling us of tales and noble deeds of his, and how he hit this one and that one. He NEVER got beat. Like Shah Rukh Khan! Man!! Grow up I wanted to say but I did not because he was paying the bill. A bill in a Goan restaurent is huge, by the way. Thing cost here. The more remote you go, it seems, the rates mount up. I shall try not to go to these paces if I can help it. I shall eat at Anandashram in Panjim, or "Bhattager" in Margao. Hell, who has money? I am not a Goan, not quite yet. I could not relate to them. The urrak was good, and so was the food, but the talk? Goa has not changed. I think I have, but not Goa.

7 iyig point

Like it was normal And like it was strange, A wave collapsed on The supporting sea and Rushed unashamed to Steal the bay beach-band. *** Not one said a thing But dug their lips in Pristine convent foils Of their white napkins, Sucking food-bits through Their whistling teeth. *** A was always A was always... Hmm, that is why I say that sage Was always The one who flunked.

Gain on a single day

Yesterday I set out to go to Panjim.

I walked to the bus stand in Margao. It was almost 11.15. Margao to Panjim in a shuttle takes about an hour. I did not want to reach Panjim at 12.00 noon, so I entered a cyber-cafe.

Then I wanted a shave. The barber I went to was a unhygienic little fellow. I did not want a shave.

As I was getting out of the complex I saw a booze shop. I wanted a drink. I bought myself a drink. Then I took the shuttle to Panjim.

I reached Panjim at 1.00 p.m. I called my friend who was expecting me. We arranged to meet & have lunch. The fish was good.

After lunch we went to his office where he is a programme director. I saw the set up: It is housed in an old Portuguese Goan heritage house. The colour is white and blue. Very attractive indeed.

He showed me around. There is a room where he displays reproductions of world art according to theme. The one that was on was women in art. There were paintings of Van Eyke, and miniatures and Picasso. There was Klimt, shiele (schiele?). "It is primarily for visual literacy ", he told me. We went to admin room.

I met two lovely women. The white board there listed the events for the week.

Next was the open courtyard in the making. Right now it is mason's mess! But I could visualise what it was going to be. Cafe where arty farty folk would discuss art and fart and blow money. Some would make more money, I could not help thinking.

Lastly we went to 'Lila', play, which is a very intimate space for anybody featured as the resource person to "play" S/he can draw, paint, sing, dance, sleep, read, listen to music and sing... No interference, no judgement. Just free play. Unwind. There was no remuneration, but material was provided. Some participants bring their own and leave it there as they love interacting in this space. It is once every week. On Wednesdays.

"I want to feature you", my friend said.

"I would love to be featured!" I said faithfully.

" You are being sarcastic!", said my friend.

"?" Thought I.

Sarcastic? Why? It was an intimate thing, this Lila. I loved the openness of the concept.

Then I told my Friend something that I thought was important to say. I said that he should not read between my lines. That would lead him to arrive at conclusions and further lead him to misinterpret me. "We have nothing to lose anymore", I told him, "since we are both middle aged failures!

_______________________________________

I then walked down the old rout, down the hill, down the steps and onto the winding downhill path that led me to 'boca de Vaca'- mouth of a cow. It is the name of a natural fountain in Panjim. It is so named because the fountain head resembles the mouth of a cow.

From there I entered the busy city streets, along the 18Th June to Clube Vasco da Gama. I went to the art shop there. I wanted to see material. I must start painting soon in order to keep my sanity. There were many impressive things in his shop. Impressive, but expensive. I bought a handmade pad for watercolours and some brushes. The shop owner also paints. I found him typical, a stuck-up Goan who has, perhaps done a bit of something in Mumbai and has retired to sell art material. He paints,boring little pictures.

______________________

I was waiting for it to strike six. Andre Pereira Gomes had an appointment with me. Andre is my lawyer.

He had just returned from Pernem in the North. He sounded exhausted. But he welcomed me. Andre is kind.

I did not know how to get to his place although I had been there once with Victor. Andre said that I ask any 'pilot', the yellow-black motorcycle cabbies and they will bring you here. Any of them?

I went to one pilot and told him Andre's name. "Dotor advogade", I said. The pilot knew him, and knew him well. "How is that everybody knows this lawyer?", I asked. "Oh!", said the pilot, he is Godinho bar's 'saddu'. Hm!

Saddu is wife's sister's husband. Bar's saddu? In Goa bars even have saddus!

When I entered Andre's flat he was sandwiched between two clients. Andre told me briefly what their problem was. And he told them what my problem was. We all felt connected. We had all been done injustice to. Andre would try to get justice for us all. I handed him the documents I was supposed to give him to study my case.

____________________________

Back on the street I searched for a phone booth. About ten minutes later I found one, so I called my brother.

He was waiting for me. He had some more documents xeroxed for me. I went to his house, a km away from the phone booth I called him from.

He was alone at home. Daughter had gone for tuitions and wife to work. We had not much time to chat so I suggested he give me the docs.

I had to rush because the last shuttle to Margao where I am living at the moment, leaves at 8.30. It was 7.15. I had some time for a drink and then to the bus stand and thence to Margao. I walked. I had a drink before catching the city bus to Bus station. There again I had a drink. I caught the 8 pm shuttle to Margao. By 9 I was in my regular bar In Benaulim.

Goaing

Just the morning after I moved in with Victor Hugo and Aldina, Victor barged into where I was sleeping and announced the birth of 'Padook'. Bhakti, the cow you see in the picture, had calved. Calved? Yes, I mean she had given birth to a calf. It was her first calf.

Padook is her name and she has attitude!

The very next morning Bhakti died.

She was administered drips and osteo-calcium thing etc. because the Vet said that due to weakness the cow had whatever that cows like Bhakti have during calving.

It was a sad thing because Victor did have a bond with the cow and Aldina too.

The mornng when Bhakti was dying, what was 'padook' doing?

This:

and

and

... see?

She was blissfully unaware of death and dying! She was not quite a day old, full of life and promise, and her mother was dying.

Bhakti could not stand up. As the vet, one Mr.Bhandari (or is it Dr.?) was dripping the med into Bhakti, I saw that she was trying hard to breath through her mouth. She drew her tongue out and sucked in air through her mouth. I looked at Agustin, the other vet chap and asked him. He kind of shook his head and gestured, suggesting that it was over. Bhakti had just left her body. And left, in the form of Padook, her presence behind.

I felt so helpless. All I could do was immortalise her in a picture.

There!!

But there are great things in Victor & Aldina's farm in Benaulim, Goa. Like for Eg:-

or,

or,

or for that matter:

Well, The sunset is from Carmel Chapel on Mount Carmel in Old Goa, but, still, Goa Is Goa, whether in Benaulim or Old Goa!

poems

The last cooler month turned

Like a clinging page to thorn bush A new something began somewhere Easy, unforced without a push, Uncoersed. News came to me through chinks of its commencement in my eyes. I turned, unseeing again And gave myself to sleep unconcerned