Heartbeatgoa.memories -The great actor was furious- Francis Rodrigues, Toronto

How often does life imitate art, he raged.Here he was with his troupe in Bombay, playing asmall-time theatre in Dhobitalao.They should have been in Goa. Enjoying the adulation.He'd written a glorious script, with a marvellousplot and a killer ending. It was to be a sensation!He'd sent it ahead to his trusted friend.M.D. and M.B. were best buds since childhood, andM.D.'s son was to wed after the glorious triumph ofM.B.'s sensational tiatr. He was to raise the toast.But the rain gods had intervened. A landslideblocked the roads to Goa and M.B.'s troupe wasstranded in Mumbai.And now, just as he was going onstage, a deadlyphone-call informed M. Boyer that "M.D." hadusurped the script as his own and actually stagedthe tiatr!He boiled through the first act.At the intermission, he scribbled furiously. Thengrabbed a shocked Remmie Colaco and the band ofmusicians.A stunned audience watched rapt as M. Boyer sanghis heart out in the spellbound second act.A wrenching new song, a classic story offriendship and betrayal called "True Friendship"or "Ixttaghot".Gone and long-forgotten are "M.D." and thepurloined play.But M. Boyer's great "Ixttaghot" lives on.Such is life.You'll find a rare copy of this - and tons more -in the "Greatest Konkani Song Hits". But youalready knew that!So I'll keep that pleasure for when you get the Book.Twenty-two days to its release......and still counting!But Ill leave you with the moral -"When the cat's away, the mice are at play!"Enjoy this mouse!"Undir Mhojea Mama"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DbRH0KYOlJYMusically yours,Francis.P.S. Did you know that the concluding verses ofBoyer's "Ixttaghot" actually recounts in song, thegreat classic Greek tale of true friendship -"Damon and Pythias"?

Heartbeatgoa.memories -THEN GO TO…….Cajetan de Sanvordem

A woman (Buska) arrived at the Gates of Heaven. While she was waiting for Saint Peter to greet her, she peeked through the gates. She saw a beautiful banquet table. Sitting all around were her parents and all the other people she had loved and who had died before her. They saw her and began calling greetings to her "Hello - How are you! We've been waiting for you! Good to see you." When Saint Peter came by: Buska: St. Peter, This is such a wonderful place! How do I get in? St. Peter: You have to spell a word Buska: Which word St. Peter? St. Peter: "Love" The woman (Buska) correctly spelled "Love" and St. Peter welcomed her into Heaven About a year later, St. Peter came to the Buska St. Peter: I have a emergency visit to make, so please watch the Gates of Heaven forme today. While Buska was guarding the Gates of Heaven, her husband (Bostiao) arrived. Buska: I am surprised to see you, How have you been? Bostiao: Oh, I have been doing pretty well since you died, I married the beautifulyoung nurse (Lily) who took care of you while you were ill. And then I won theGoa-state lottery. I sold the little house you and I lived in and bought a hugemansion. And my wife and I traveled all around the world. We were on vacation inCanada, we went to visit the Niagara Fall, accidentally I fell and hit my head andhere I am. Now how do I get in heaven? Buska: Well, to get in heaven you have to spell a word, and if you are unable tospell then you have to go to the hell. Do you agree? Bostiao: Yes I do. Which word? Buska: Thiruvananthapuram Bostiao: T….i…r……v…..u, Oh No… I cannot spell it. Buska: Then go to Hell.

Heartbeatgoa.memories -QUO VADIS ? - By John Eric Gomes

Away from the famous churches and basilicas in Rome, is the chapel of Quo Vadis. According to legend, in this exact spot the apostle Peter, terrorized by Nero’s threats, fleeing from pagan Rome, was confronted by a reproachful Lord who queried “Quo Vadis?” (Whither goest thou). This vision sent the fugitive back with courage and faith renewed. He was crucified but roman Emperor Constantine eventually became Christian and over Peter’s tomb stands the present Vatican. The mighty Roman Empire went into oblivion. This is the question we must ask ourselves today. Never in all of history is mankind faced with such danger as today, all consequences of what man has become and his creations. It is his irresponsible behavior controlled by greed and corruption that is disturbing. Modern science and technology have mounted us on a dragon that we have to be able to tame and ride. Today is the era of globalization, where what happens anywhere matters everywhere. . What is going on are vexatious conflicts between diverse people in rancor and prejudice. There is violent awakening of underprivileged peoples urgently demanding the standards of living they see on Television and which the rich nations have been enjoying. Merely criticizing, wanting more and not contributing to the righteous forces will not work. We do not seem to be bothered by the distress of others .The standards of personal morality have become debased. The material world has made us inhuman. The more we possess, the more we wish to possess and not share. This greed keeps us in bondage and alienated from each other. Recently I attended a free Rhythmic Breathing session at the Radakrishna Temple hall in Panaji. What struck me was the Sikh teacher who stated that this same knowledge is sold encapsulated in fancy courses for around Rs 8000/-, but knowledge should be free or it is doomed. I recall Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitangali “Where the mind is without fear and the head held high, Where knowledge is free……..” Today you can obtain free knowledge of anything, from anywhere in the world. Learning is what you acquire, education is what you are. We have to ask ourselves “Is my education educating me? Is it adding value to my life and through me the lives of those who come into contact with me? Is my learning drawing out the best in me and supporting me to be the best I can be?” Change and growth takes place when a person is under risk and dares to become involved with life. The family is the oldest social unit in the world. There are no substitutes for good parenting. It is the awesome responsibility of each generation to pass on the torch of civilization burning brightly to the next. A child does not belong to two people whose union made his existence possible. To quote Kahlil Gibran “Your children are not your children. They are sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself”. The child is only on loan during the formative years. So is the world on loan to us, with all its beauty and diverse nature. Are we fulfilling our God given responsibilities to make this a better world for you and for me and future generations? Honesty and integrity cannot be taught when there are conflicting values at home and in society. When children see elders lie in order promote their own interests, give flattering welcomes to people they despise and do a hundred similar things for success, who can blame the child if he grows up cynical, irresponsible, selfish and cruel? How can we then expect values and traits such as compassion, generosity, self sacrifice?Patterns in family life are rapidly changing. Parents may have to work far from their children, and pre-cooked foods and ready made clothes preclude the old methods. Tolerance and patience cannot easily be practiced in this world of speed. We have to slow down. Find time for things that matter. With the complications of modern living we have to give our best, just as we would to any important creative work. Father Anthony de Melo tells a meditative tale from the Upanishads: The sage Uddalaka taught his son to see God in everything like this. One day he gave him salt and asked him to put it in a saucer of water and bring it next morning. The boy did as he was told. The father said “Please bring me the salt you put in the water yesterday”. “I cannot find it, it has dissolved”. “Taste the water from this side of the dish” said Uddalaka “What taste does it have?” “Salt”. “Sip it in the middle. What is it like?” Salt”. “Sip from the other side of the dish. What taste?’ “Salt”. Then Uddalaka said “You cannot perceive God here, my son, but in fact He is here”... Many people having to face the present state of affairs, their helplessness in having to watch the indecent expenditures (mostly from public funds) and lavish lifestyles of most of our Netas and Bureaucrats in normal times and specially continuing in these days of recession and hard times, wonder if God is here. The Congress government is showing some sensitivity by their conspicuous austerity drive. This token austerity is hopefully going to end in positive fallout on the behavioral hypocrisy prevailing. There is a lot of evil pervading our society. We must not be afraid of evil and like Peter we must have courage and faith to challenge it. Not play it safe. Not run away, or hide our heads in the sand / pretend it does not exist, but just do the best we can, and leave the rest to God. Quo Vadis ?

Heartbeatgoa.memories -PODER, PODER PAO - By: Bennet Paes

The aroma that whiffed out of a bottle of Evening in Paris might still bring to a Goan socialite, romantic memories of the evenings long gone by. But the simple pleasures of life that enthralled Goans of every hue, have their roots right inside the village bakery. Because that’s where the most enduring aroma came from out of the freshly baked village pao. And the producer of that masterpiece was none other than the village poder. Few other sounds, too, were so joyous as the jingle that came out of his club, as he struck it hard on the ground while striding through the dusty village lanes. He wore a cabai, a vestment almost competing with the cassock of the village clergy. A large basket of wares magically balanced on his head, also added to his theatrics. Children would be seen clustering around, as the poder approached their neighbourhoods and as the jingle grew in intensity. They were all familiar faces to the poder and indeed, harbingers of the guiraik to follow. The benevolent poder would oftentimes reward the children with a khankonn, which gesture would send the children ecstatically chanting the popular lyric of those days: Poder, poder pao ducra boncant dao. Those were the days of the 30’, 40’ and perhaps 50?, when Goans of all faiths used to be more sussegad and less ambitious than they are now. That included the poder, too. His morning calls were not early enough to get the freshly baked pao on time to our breakfast tables. As a result, calcho pao used to be toasted on the kitchen fire, to go along with the next morning’s cup of coffee. But, on the other hand, the day’s fresh pao was seen as a perfect match for yesterday’s atoiloli coddi. It was a make-shift affair of sorts, but it worked magic on our die-hard palates. Admittedly, changing times also brought about a change in customs. The poder of today has shed the traditional cabai. He no longer balances the basket on his head. Instead, he navigates on a pao-laden bicycle through narrow lanes, made even narrower by a serpentine chain of durgam. The old jingle no longer heralds his morning chore. Instead, a diminutive form of that ancient motor-horn ponk-ponks menacingly to wake up even the neighbourhood’s kingfisher. He no longer has access to doorsteps, but transacts business over the durig tops. The transactions are still conducted in Konkani, but with a sprinkling of Hinglish to curry favour with the growing number of migrant house-wives. And if truth be told, the variety of his wares has somewhat shrunk, too. The kankhon that used to be the children’s delight at one time has receded into history, and the bakri has surfaced as a worthy successor . Moreover, the heavenly aroma that used to be the hallmark of the sur-blended-pao is drastically diluted due to a shortage of Goan renders who have chosen to slog it out in Arab lands, rather than climb up to a sur-filled damonem. All said and done, it bakes down to an uneasy feeling - that the traditional poder too will some day ease out of the scene, leaving behind the already diluted pao to be eventually replaced by a chapatti.

Heartbeatgoa.memories -Destination Goa in Dhobi Talao - Dhanya Nair

Because you can't take Goa out of a Goan, a series of clubs offer them a home away from home It is a Saturday afternoon and the world is busy making weekend plans. But in a tiny, nondescript structure a stone's throw away from St Xavier's College and Metro Cinema at Dhobi Talao, 40-year-old Custodio Gomes from a small hamlet in Goa is already in a relaxed mood. He is in his "home away from home" and he has for company his favourite musician, Goa's nightingale Lorna, crooning Tuzo Mog, a famous Goan classic. Tucked away from the prying eyes of Mumbaikars is a slice of genuinely Goan flavoured life, at Jer Mahal, a Goan club right above music instruments store Furtados. "I have been staying in the club for almost 30 years now. Thanks to this place, I feel like a part of Goa is still with me. You can take a Goan out of Goa, but you cannot take Goa out of him. Everything around this place is Goan whether it is the neighbours, food or even the music," says Gomes. This club does not include expensive lounges, drinks or gymnasia. In fact, at the first glance one might dismiss Jer Mahal as any other ordinary chawl. But take the rickety steps and peep into one of the rooms and you will find signs of Goa all around. At this club, Goans can put up for as long as they want for rates cheaper than a vada pav. "Goa is divided into villages; each village has its own club. Anyone who wants to become a member of this club should have be a Goan. They can come here and stay for as long as they want. The rent starts from Rs 2 to Rs 50 for a month," says Gomes. Jer Mahal is part of the North Goa Club and houses members from that part of Goa. The residents point out that there are around 210 such clubs across the city in Dhobi Talao, Sion, Mazgaon and even Andheri. The clubs all have similar interiors: wooden or steel boxes called pattis that line the walls, shoe stands, huge trunks and TV sets. Each room also has a kitchen where the residents can cook their own food. Another interesting feature of the club is that each club will have a special altar, housing the patron saint of that area of Goa. Since Goans' love for music is well known, Jer Mahal has that covered too. In a little corner, Lazarez Rodricks sells Konkani music CDs from his shop CF Rodricks and Sons, bringing home Konkani artists like Junior Rod, Jacinta Vaz, Alvares and others. "I could not have chosen a better place to put up my business. Not only can I discuss local music with my people but also get a homely touch because of their presence," says Lazarez. His business is doing well not only thanks to his natives but also other people around the area who cannot help but get drawn to the foot-tapping Konkani music. "Konkani clearly rules the air waves here. Coming here and doing business each day is a true blessing," adds Lazarez. Privacy might take a beating, but no one cares. "It might not be that private like a hotel but it sure is so homely where you can meet your people all under one roof and share their passions, dreams and stories," says another member, Audray Periera (32). As the evening comes to an end, old members of Jer Mahal are readying themselves with their prayer books and a rosary while the younger ones are busy contemplating on what to discuss over drinks. "Old habits die hard. We will now congregate and discuss which sport to watch over the evening. The feeling of being away from home does not arise when you are here," adds Audray passionately.

Heartbeatgoa.memories -Coffee at Goa's Marliz in Margao - Pandu Lampiao

I went to Marliz for their good ole plum cake.......and the chap fromCarnataka (till he opened his bouche, I though he was amcho Goicho)told me, ' ye bewda ke saat aachha laagta haai". Drunk at noon too, hewas this chap.*sigh* I was told Marliz has been sold and someone from upcountry isthe new owner. There were no customers (Sol-sette aunties) and noflies either. In my quest for the best Sol-sette plum cake, I did makeinquiries and its a fair bus ride away from Margao (no I ain'ttelling, you don't mind no). In the good old days, the whole area around Marliz was thick with theplum cake aroma, the smell of burnt cake paper! Aside from their patties, their chocolate roll cake was a short cut tosinful heaven!!! Not to mention their uncomfortable wrought ironchairs where well-fed Sol-sette aunties sat ackward trying to keeptheir balance and the parties going directly from plate-to-mouth!! Where patties go, good old Cajlin in the Cansaulim market is gone aswell (a few years ago...still around but...). Their prawn patties weresoft and flaky (no, I am not referring to the pompous posting Pedrofrom Mississauga), spicy to let one one stream of sweat and sweetonion and subtle saltiness of the prawn. Apparently the children aredoing well in some place called the Goulf!!!

Heartbeatgoa.memories -Silviano BarbosaToronto, Canada

My friend Nobby called me the other day and said 'I lovethis Konkani U-Pod, "Under My Mama"'. I said, "What are you talking about? I know you don't evenknow a word of Konkani, even though your grand-parents came from Goa. What'sthis U-Pod? Is it like an I-Pod?" Nobby said his Dad told him it is a type of old folk song from Goa. Then I asked "Then why would a Konkani folk song be titled inEnglish?" 'I don't know', Nobby said. Then it dawned on me. "Oh, now I get it", I said "Arrereddia.." Why do you call me 'Radio?' Nobby asked. "Ai Saiba! Reddia means English Buffalo. Nevermind, You better learn at least some elementaryKonkani to complement your wide knowledge of other languages such as English,French and Swahili. Then you can call yourself a Proud Goan." "I know, I know." Nobby interjected,"So tellme about the U-Pod "Under My Mamma". Besides I do know a word of Konkani"Forty three-Tea" "What? Forty-three Tea? What's that? I know 'Tea' means'cha' but what is Forty Three got to do with Konkani? " I asked. "Ok. So it's not'tea' but 'cha'. But that's what every Goan here calls the other Goan - "Hey 43-cha". "Ok, gotcha! NowI know you know only Konkani swear-words. What else do you know inKonkani?" I asked. "I know pulau, sorpatel, dukra mass, caju fenni, VivaGoa. Now you tell me about that U-pod, please." "Okay, Arre Baba, It's not U-pod. It's"Dulpod" I added. "And it's not 'Under My Mamma', It's Undir Mujea mama!'I said. "Oh I see andwhat does that mean?" Nobby questioned. It goes something like this,literally - "Oh Microsoft Mouse, My Uncle, and I am telling you . Don't you play-i withthe kittie cat-u". "You mean Bill Gates wrote that song?" Nobby asked. "No, Tuj Pai-n. Arre Baba I strongly recommend to Goans like you, a new Konkani Song Book , "GreatestKonkani Song Hits" by Goanetter and author Francis Rodrigues. It has the realtranslation in English that rhymes, not like the one above. Besides musical notes, background, anecdotes, DVD, etc. And it is quite educational, well researched, entertaining and sure to be a part of our Goan culture, heritage and legacy." "U-pod Under My Mamma? Oh God!, She, loz Baba!Inglez Goenkar!" I whispered to myself and laughed. Silviano BarbosaToronto, Canada@ Copywright 2009-07-10