Is it natural to feel doubts as a Goan. Well here's some diehard views ..
a) D'costa -" Why should we have a serious, upright, image of ourselves, when nobody else does?"
b) D'mello -"Goan public relations appear to have been handled by the same firm that represents Charles Shobraj."
c) D'sozzled - "For years, the image of Goa that was broadcast to the world were the Bollywood movies, which depicted this as a place infested with drunks, violence, drunks, paedophiles, drunks, homicidal psychotics,drunks,loose women and did I say drunks ? -- worst of all -- really stupid movie plots. Goan "literature" was portrayed by cartoonist Mario Miranda, Goan classical music took on the image of pop singer Remo Fernandes, Hic !"."What happened"
d) D'lima - "People take these images seriously. When you travel to other cities, and you tell people you're from Goa, they never consider your opinion seriously."
e) D'loser - "Every few weeks you see an article about how some organization has announced its annual list of the Ten Nicest Places to Shop, or the Ten Best Places for Entrepreneurs, or the Ten Easiest Places To Get A Haircut In While Playing The Bongos Naked During Carnival, but whatever the category is, Goa is never in a top group. Goa is always something like No. 13, behind Bihar and Tihar Jail."
f) D'father & D'son - "So, OK, we have an image problem. But one thing you can say about this state: When the going gets tough and the game is on the line, we Goans have an amazing ability to suck in our guts, tighten our helmet straps, and shoot ourselves in the foot.
Sometimes this is just plain bad luck, as when John Paul II attempted to hold an outdoor Mass here, and a lightning storm threatened to turn him into Pope Shashlik. But sometimes we have to put real effort into screwing up, as when we hosted the 2006 "International" Film Festival, and national media people, who had come here expecting to be pampered into a stupor, wound up sprinting through Miramar, their clothing singed by the flames from the friction of crowds trying to squeeze into the movie venues."
---------------------------------------------
26 February 2007
A Day in the Life of....
It's not as bad as you think.
Probably the most striking characteristic of Goans, aside from the fact that so many of them apparently received their driver training from army conscripts, is the way they're always asking each other "What happened?".
I've lived here on and off for four years, four months and a day, and when I meet or call people, they inevitably ask, "So, what happened?" As if I just met with a car accident.
And I'm not alone. Everybody asks everybody this. People who've lived here for decades ask each other this. I'm confident that if THE "Babush" ever takes the witness stand, the first question he'll be asked is "What happened?"
This is not because of a lack of knowledge. It's not like in, for example, Delhi, where people will say "Kyaa haal hai !" (how is your health) but what they clearly mean is "Hey, hope compared to that last pauper I met, you're loaded, I need to take some money off you!".
No, Goans ask with a concern in their voices. They're a tad insecure. They really want you to say that you are fine and like Goa, because this reassures them that they're not total nuts for living here.
This is a suspicion that nags at Goans, especially when something bizarre happens, the kind of thing that seems to happen occasionally down here, such as your second-grader casually mentions that one of her Russian classmates brought a machine gun to class; or you're late for work because because an alligator attacked the ferry operator; or your next-door neighbor stops by to ask if he can borrow a cup of pickled pigs testicles; or a former chairperson of the Chamber of Commerce reports that somebody broke into her bedroom and stole her bootleg copy of Regional Plan 2011. These are the times when, as a Goan, you ask yourself: "Do I really want to live here? Should I maybe move to New Zealand?"
--------------------------------
Probably the most striking characteristic of Goans, aside from the fact that so many of them apparently received their driver training from army conscripts, is the way they're always asking each other "What happened?".
I've lived here on and off for four years, four months and a day, and when I meet or call people, they inevitably ask, "So, what happened?" As if I just met with a car accident.
And I'm not alone. Everybody asks everybody this. People who've lived here for decades ask each other this. I'm confident that if THE "Babush" ever takes the witness stand, the first question he'll be asked is "What happened?"
This is not because of a lack of knowledge. It's not like in, for example, Delhi, where people will say "Kyaa haal hai !" (how is your health) but what they clearly mean is "Hey, hope compared to that last pauper I met, you're loaded, I need to take some money off you!".
No, Goans ask with a concern in their voices. They're a tad insecure. They really want you to say that you are fine and like Goa, because this reassures them that they're not total nuts for living here.
This is a suspicion that nags at Goans, especially when something bizarre happens, the kind of thing that seems to happen occasionally down here, such as your second-grader casually mentions that one of her Russian classmates brought a machine gun to class; or you're late for work because because an alligator attacked the ferry operator; or your next-door neighbor stops by to ask if he can borrow a cup of pickled pigs testicles; or a former chairperson of the Chamber of Commerce reports that somebody broke into her bedroom and stole her bootleg copy of Regional Plan 2011. These are the times when, as a Goan, you ask yourself: "Do I really want to live here? Should I maybe move to New Zealand?"
--------------------------------
Crime in Paradise !
You think I'm exaggerating? You think it's not that bad? You're right! Sometimes it's worse.
Notwithstanding the lesser criminals, like Charlie Shobraj (came here for a bit of R& R from the rigours of Big City crime - now recreationing in a Nepalese jail), the Du Pont guys (now settled in Tamil Nadu and trying to get the Government to change the Constitution of India!) it warms the cockles of me heart, it does, to see the really big Kingfish, Socialite Restaurateurs, sundry actors and big city realtors (motto:have money will travel) , still unafraid to visit and continue to sample the spoils of this fair land with impunity.
Goan crime is well and flourishing if one is to go by the headlines alone on page 3 of the local Navhind Times(motto: The Newspaper You Can Trust).One whole page dedicated to, well you decide - and here are the headlines, ALL true :-
(a) Attempt to murder accused granted bail
(b) Two women in a hit and run case serious
(c) Vasco police register cheating and forgery case
(d) House burgled at Succour
(e) Harassment case
(f) 10-month infant found abandoned
(g) Three held for trespassing
(h) Man remanded to police custody for stabbing
(i) And the clincher……Girl held for making obscene gestures at passersby.
lalala.......and a partridge in a pear tree.
Or is January 13th just an unlucky day .
It was also the day of the arrival of Cavaco Silva distinguished foreign minister of Portugal (still referred by some as the motherland), who was here to promote one of his books – "How to Acquire property illegally and keep the locals from ever guessing" or "The Art of Brewing Vintage Feni". To help along sales of his book Goa University decided to confer on him an honorary degree of Doctor in Literature.
My favorite Welcome-To- Goa crime stopper is about Anil Jacob from Kerala who escaped from police custody while returning from a dental appointment. His friends; concerned that he was being tortured under the dentists drill decided enough was enough and proceeded dramatically to rescue him from his dreaded captors.
Now why did they have to go and use a Tata Sumo, ( they obviously did not read my recommendation that the Tata Sumo is an off-road vehicle and not meant to be raced on city roads which are reserved for Mitsubishi Monteros and the like) Long story short, the SUV turned turtle and 5 of them are in custody in place of Anil. Not a bad exchange I'd say, 5 for 1.
"Next time we should handcuff these heinous criminals" said the cops, "we can't have their uninvited friends freeloading in Goan jails as well!" There is a reward out for Anil with his picture - OF COURSE he has not had a haircut, or shaven his beard or now wears horn-rimmed glasses, why would he? No one recognizes him at the Rasta Israeli Bar Lounge and Grill at Arambol Beach, he just blends in.(based on my "lead" he was caught again just last week)
And while the drama played out, my friend Veena who was there at the time, shaken seriously, rushes over to the roadside Tour Operator agency, whose employees, in true heartwarming we're-all-in-this-together Goan fashion, are loudly informing her, through the glass door, that this incident did NOT occur on their property.
Meanwhile, distinguished Japanese author Sockitome San is lying down sideways on the car seat, possibly wondering if this is, in fact, the kind of community where people purchase a lot of prayer books. Welcome to Goa, sir! Anything else we can get for you? Bulletproof vest? Change of underwear?
-------------------------------------------------
Notwithstanding the lesser criminals, like Charlie Shobraj (came here for a bit of R& R from the rigours of Big City crime - now recreationing in a Nepalese jail), the Du Pont guys (now settled in Tamil Nadu and trying to get the Government to change the Constitution of India!) it warms the cockles of me heart, it does, to see the really big Kingfish, Socialite Restaurateurs, sundry actors and big city realtors (motto:have money will travel) , still unafraid to visit and continue to sample the spoils of this fair land with impunity.
Goan crime is well and flourishing if one is to go by the headlines alone on page 3 of the local Navhind Times(motto: The Newspaper You Can Trust).One whole page dedicated to, well you decide - and here are the headlines, ALL true :-
(a) Attempt to murder accused granted bail
(b) Two women in a hit and run case serious
(c) Vasco police register cheating and forgery case
(d) House burgled at Succour
(e) Harassment case
(f) 10-month infant found abandoned
(g) Three held for trespassing
(h) Man remanded to police custody for stabbing
(i) And the clincher……Girl held for making obscene gestures at passersby.
lalala.......and a partridge in a pear tree.
Or is January 13th just an unlucky day .
It was also the day of the arrival of Cavaco Silva distinguished foreign minister of Portugal (still referred by some as the motherland), who was here to promote one of his books – "How to Acquire property illegally and keep the locals from ever guessing" or "The Art of Brewing Vintage Feni". To help along sales of his book Goa University decided to confer on him an honorary degree of Doctor in Literature.
My favorite Welcome-To- Goa crime stopper is about Anil Jacob from Kerala who escaped from police custody while returning from a dental appointment. His friends; concerned that he was being tortured under the dentists drill decided enough was enough and proceeded dramatically to rescue him from his dreaded captors.
Now why did they have to go and use a Tata Sumo, ( they obviously did not read my recommendation that the Tata Sumo is an off-road vehicle and not meant to be raced on city roads which are reserved for Mitsubishi Monteros and the like) Long story short, the SUV turned turtle and 5 of them are in custody in place of Anil. Not a bad exchange I'd say, 5 for 1.
"Next time we should handcuff these heinous criminals" said the cops, "we can't have their uninvited friends freeloading in Goan jails as well!" There is a reward out for Anil with his picture - OF COURSE he has not had a haircut, or shaven his beard or now wears horn-rimmed glasses, why would he? No one recognizes him at the Rasta Israeli Bar Lounge and Grill at Arambol Beach, he just blends in.(based on my "lead" he was caught again just last week)
And while the drama played out, my friend Veena who was there at the time, shaken seriously, rushes over to the roadside Tour Operator agency, whose employees, in true heartwarming we're-all-in-this-together Goan fashion, are loudly informing her, through the glass door, that this incident did NOT occur on their property.
Meanwhile, distinguished Japanese author Sockitome San is lying down sideways on the car seat, possibly wondering if this is, in fact, the kind of community where people purchase a lot of prayer books. Welcome to Goa, sir! Anything else we can get for you? Bulletproof vest? Change of underwear?
-------------------------------------------------
Four-legged Foodies - Part I
Four-legged foodies – part I
Who's best friend did you say !!??
Indu my sister-in-law stays in a house with numerous pets and three other humans.
Indu is fond of animals: She has a flock of parrots and budgerigars, a school of fish, and half a dozen rabbits, living in the outside yard with a decorative pond ( the fish live in the pond, not the birds), and six dogs patrolling on the inside. Actually one of the dogs is slightly more mobile than a coconut tree due to his arthritis but more than makes up for it in sheer bark power and bulk and is about 12,000 years old. He may in fact be medically dead. But dogs don't get all weepy over their physical disabilities. This particular dog, his name is Dobi since he vaguely resembles a Doberman on steroids, - maintains a productive routine, which consists of every now and then getting to his feet (this takes about an hour) and wandering around until he bumps into something, which he sniffs. If he thinks it is food, he tries to eat it; if it bites back, he knows it's one of the other dogs.
The other dogs are more active; their job is to wait for people to open the gate, then bark loudly and angrily to communicate the fact that, based on their extensive experience as dogs, the people at the gate are bad and somebody should bite them. Dogs are deeply suspicious of anybody using a gate. Even if, when the gate is opened, it turns out that the people standing there know the dogs, and in fact live in the house, the dogs will continue barking at them for a few seconds, in case it's some sort of a trick.
Dogs behave this way because they are extremely vigilant (I am using "vigilant" instead of "dumb").Indu also has a small, nervous dog named Pixie who is so vigilant that she would be classified on the animal intelligence scale as category: "mineral". A low-lying cabinet with glass doors is in her path out the door and Pixie notices her reflection every time she passes it. Pixie reacts as though her reflection is an entire gang of street urchins, barking, growling and running around in small alarmed, circles to let everyone know that her reflection is bad and she will bite it ( she rarely does). After looking behind the cabinet and not seeing another dog she calms down. But the moment her reflection reappears, all the current drains out of Pixies' mental battery again, and WHOA! RED ALERT! Pixie goes off again like a small, fur-brained, defective car alarm. It is not a quiet household. But you can be sure it is a very secure household, thanks to Pixies' vigilance.
But here's a story that happened at a friends house with an equally vigilant dog, a daschund named Spike. They were having a nice dinner at home, and during this dinner Spike kept going to a window and growling. Nobody paid any attention, because dogs are always growling – maybe at the moon, maybe at the fish , maybe at the Reserve Bank – who can say?
After dinner everyone, including the dog, went into the other room to have dessert and watch the Indian cricket team play an important one day international match against Bangla Desh. Actually the women watched the game; the men actively controlled the outcome by shouting at the TV. The dog watched the dessert.
Through skillful team shouting, the men won the game, and everyone agreed it had been a pleasant evening. Then the women discovered that their purses, which had been left by the dining-room window, were gone. While they had been shouting at the TV, a thief had sneakily reached in and stolen them. He had obviously been watching them through the window. The growling dog had been telling them this.
When they discovered the theft, each person reacted in a different way. One called the police; another smoked a cigarette, even though he had technically quit. Another decided to go and look around the back for clues. Perhaps he would even find the burglar! Then remembering his karate classes he would wet his pants.
He was called into the house by his wife who informed him that the cops were on their way, and that he was being too vigilant by wandering around the house in the dark.
The police came quickly. Needless to say, the dog barked at them. They later concluded that the reason the dog did not bark at the thief was that (a) it was busy watching the dessert, and (b) the thief stood at the window, which apparently is not a violation of dog security rules.
The next day the purses were found in a garbage disposal minus cash -
but their credit cards, drivers' licenses, makeup, tissues, pharmaceuticals, hairdryers, washing machines, and other stuff that women keep in their purses were intact.
We can all learn valuable lessons from this on home security, namely:
1.We should not only lock our doors, but our windows as well.
2.Dogs will give you a lot of "false alarms," but every now and then they may really know what they're growling or barking about.
3.Or maybe not.
4.Experts will agree that if you really want peace of mind and your home to be safe, fish are worthless.
Who's best friend did you say !!??
Indu my sister-in-law stays in a house with numerous pets and three other humans.
Indu is fond of animals: She has a flock of parrots and budgerigars, a school of fish, and half a dozen rabbits, living in the outside yard with a decorative pond ( the fish live in the pond, not the birds), and six dogs patrolling on the inside. Actually one of the dogs is slightly more mobile than a coconut tree due to his arthritis but more than makes up for it in sheer bark power and bulk and is about 12,000 years old. He may in fact be medically dead. But dogs don't get all weepy over their physical disabilities. This particular dog, his name is Dobi since he vaguely resembles a Doberman on steroids, - maintains a productive routine, which consists of every now and then getting to his feet (this takes about an hour) and wandering around until he bumps into something, which he sniffs. If he thinks it is food, he tries to eat it; if it bites back, he knows it's one of the other dogs.
The other dogs are more active; their job is to wait for people to open the gate, then bark loudly and angrily to communicate the fact that, based on their extensive experience as dogs, the people at the gate are bad and somebody should bite them. Dogs are deeply suspicious of anybody using a gate. Even if, when the gate is opened, it turns out that the people standing there know the dogs, and in fact live in the house, the dogs will continue barking at them for a few seconds, in case it's some sort of a trick.
Dogs behave this way because they are extremely vigilant (I am using "vigilant" instead of "dumb").Indu also has a small, nervous dog named Pixie who is so vigilant that she would be classified on the animal intelligence scale as category: "mineral". A low-lying cabinet with glass doors is in her path out the door and Pixie notices her reflection every time she passes it. Pixie reacts as though her reflection is an entire gang of street urchins, barking, growling and running around in small alarmed, circles to let everyone know that her reflection is bad and she will bite it ( she rarely does). After looking behind the cabinet and not seeing another dog she calms down. But the moment her reflection reappears, all the current drains out of Pixies' mental battery again, and WHOA! RED ALERT! Pixie goes off again like a small, fur-brained, defective car alarm. It is not a quiet household. But you can be sure it is a very secure household, thanks to Pixies' vigilance.
But here's a story that happened at a friends house with an equally vigilant dog, a daschund named Spike. They were having a nice dinner at home, and during this dinner Spike kept going to a window and growling. Nobody paid any attention, because dogs are always growling – maybe at the moon, maybe at the fish , maybe at the Reserve Bank – who can say?
After dinner everyone, including the dog, went into the other room to have dessert and watch the Indian cricket team play an important one day international match against Bangla Desh. Actually the women watched the game; the men actively controlled the outcome by shouting at the TV. The dog watched the dessert.
Through skillful team shouting, the men won the game, and everyone agreed it had been a pleasant evening. Then the women discovered that their purses, which had been left by the dining-room window, were gone. While they had been shouting at the TV, a thief had sneakily reached in and stolen them. He had obviously been watching them through the window. The growling dog had been telling them this.
When they discovered the theft, each person reacted in a different way. One called the police; another smoked a cigarette, even though he had technically quit. Another decided to go and look around the back for clues. Perhaps he would even find the burglar! Then remembering his karate classes he would wet his pants.
He was called into the house by his wife who informed him that the cops were on their way, and that he was being too vigilant by wandering around the house in the dark.
The police came quickly. Needless to say, the dog barked at them. They later concluded that the reason the dog did not bark at the thief was that (a) it was busy watching the dessert, and (b) the thief stood at the window, which apparently is not a violation of dog security rules.
The next day the purses were found in a garbage disposal minus cash -
but their credit cards, drivers' licenses, makeup, tissues, pharmaceuticals, hairdryers, washing machines, and other stuff that women keep in their purses were intact.
We can all learn valuable lessons from this on home security, namely:
1.We should not only lock our doors, but our windows as well.
2.Dogs will give you a lot of "false alarms," but every now and then they may really know what they're growling or barking about.
3.Or maybe not.
4.Experts will agree that if you really want peace of mind and your home to be safe, fish are worthless.
Ah!Weary Traveller
Did you say "Pearl of the Orient?"
Goa also could probably present a friendlier face to our tourist visitors. You get off a plane in Singapore, and you're greeted by a spacious, clean, modern airport with futuristic skytrains whisking people between terminals. You get off a plane at the Dabolim International Airport And Regional Alcoholics Anonymous Convention Centre, and you half expect to be run over by goats.
We are talking not Third World but about a possibly Fifth World situation here, a seething, babbling mass of confusion that can be very scary if you just got off a plane from, say, Tokyo.
There you are, Mr Sockitome , wearing your brand-new active swimwear, palm-printed shirt and straw hat, all set for a restful tropical vacation, and suddenly you find yourself in a dirty, ill-lit, confusing airport, trying to thread your way through surging hordes of people shouting and gesturing in numerous languages and pidgin English; massive extended families carrying an astounding variety of baggage, including tyre tubes, washing machines, giant TV's, pianos, livestock, house parts, etc., and forming huge disorganized clots in front of counters representing dozens of tour operators (proud motto: "If The Engine Don't Start, We Share This Rickshaw, Hokay?").
What bothers me about these tour operators is, in all the times I've been to the airport, I've never seen any of their tour buses, COMING IN, only some going out. I'm convinced that some of them don't HAVE any buses or their own. The way they work is, they wait until they've gathered a bunch of passengers, then go around to garage sales looking for buses in their price range. This causes lengthy delays, sometimes resulting in the formation of whole refugee passenger villages in the main airport lounge, with primitive huts and chickens roasting over open fires.
This is the scene that you, the Japanese tourist Sockitome San, must fight your way through in an effort to reach the Baggage Claim area, only to find it littered with mildewed inactive swimwear, printed shirts, and straw hats, costumes containing the remains of former tourists who perished while waiting for their baggage to arrive, apparently from the planet Jupiter.
And miraculously, when you do get your baggage, and fortunately you have your own car, you will find yourself out in Goa Velha, on the NH17, God forbid, dealing with: North Goa returning evening traffic -- the states last true lawless frontier; a place where you're not even certain that the cops are licensed drivers, a place where you are passed on the left, passed on the right, passed by bikes driving right on top of your roof, cars that were last inspected during the Liberation, buses on which the only maintenance activity ever performed is that occasionally the road transport department slaps another layer of what appears to be blue paint on the windows, cars without doors, and some with the doors welded shut – oops that's a hearse from Bosco Modern Funeral Home ( they have internet access) traveling along briskly with a marching band, a lot of them seem to be going out of their way to hit you, which they probably are because, as an out-of-town car owner driver, you may well be the only person in all of Goa who actually has insurance.—Banzaiiiiiiiiiii ! -------------------------------
Goa also could probably present a friendlier face to our tourist visitors. You get off a plane in Singapore, and you're greeted by a spacious, clean, modern airport with futuristic skytrains whisking people between terminals. You get off a plane at the Dabolim International Airport And Regional Alcoholics Anonymous Convention Centre, and you half expect to be run over by goats.
We are talking not Third World but about a possibly Fifth World situation here, a seething, babbling mass of confusion that can be very scary if you just got off a plane from, say, Tokyo.
There you are, Mr Sockitome , wearing your brand-new active swimwear, palm-printed shirt and straw hat, all set for a restful tropical vacation, and suddenly you find yourself in a dirty, ill-lit, confusing airport, trying to thread your way through surging hordes of people shouting and gesturing in numerous languages and pidgin English; massive extended families carrying an astounding variety of baggage, including tyre tubes, washing machines, giant TV's, pianos, livestock, house parts, etc., and forming huge disorganized clots in front of counters representing dozens of tour operators (proud motto: "If The Engine Don't Start, We Share This Rickshaw, Hokay?").
What bothers me about these tour operators is, in all the times I've been to the airport, I've never seen any of their tour buses, COMING IN, only some going out. I'm convinced that some of them don't HAVE any buses or their own. The way they work is, they wait until they've gathered a bunch of passengers, then go around to garage sales looking for buses in their price range. This causes lengthy delays, sometimes resulting in the formation of whole refugee passenger villages in the main airport lounge, with primitive huts and chickens roasting over open fires.
This is the scene that you, the Japanese tourist Sockitome San, must fight your way through in an effort to reach the Baggage Claim area, only to find it littered with mildewed inactive swimwear, printed shirts, and straw hats, costumes containing the remains of former tourists who perished while waiting for their baggage to arrive, apparently from the planet Jupiter.
And miraculously, when you do get your baggage, and fortunately you have your own car, you will find yourself out in Goa Velha, on the NH17, God forbid, dealing with: North Goa returning evening traffic -- the states last true lawless frontier; a place where you're not even certain that the cops are licensed drivers, a place where you are passed on the left, passed on the right, passed by bikes driving right on top of your roof, cars that were last inspected during the Liberation, buses on which the only maintenance activity ever performed is that occasionally the road transport department slaps another layer of what appears to be blue paint on the windows, cars without doors, and some with the doors welded shut – oops that's a hearse from Bosco Modern Funeral Home ( they have internet access) traveling along briskly with a marching band, a lot of them seem to be going out of their way to hit you, which they probably are because, as an out-of-town car owner driver, you may well be the only person in all of Goa who actually has insurance.—Banzaiiiiiiiiiii ! -------------------------------
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