SHAKY SEMANTICS? A THOUGHT ON GOAN HISTORY

Languages evolve, words are borrowed from one language to another, and as time passes by some words acquire new meanings while others are abandoned altogether. What words mean can tell us about the things that they represent. Thus, for instance, a word like ‘communidade’ can tell us not just that it represents a system of land tenure, but also indicate that this system was either created or modified through the intervention of the Portuguese. But this process of deploying semantics for understanding and explaining the larger processes of history is not easy, fraught as it is with inconsistencies that may lead us to errors.

The occasion to have these thoughts was recently provided when I came across an interesting documentary on the Goan music and dance form manddo, ‘Amchem Cantar Aum Mhuntam’, by Ruth Lobo, a graduate of the National Institute of Design, Ahmedabad. This documentary is available online (it was released on 15 September, 2015). The purpose of this article is not to review the documentary. Rather, I would like to focus on two comments that the documentary provides on the history of the origins of the manddo, in a bid to reflect how Goan history is understood in the popular domain.

The first comment is by the cardiologist and manddo-enthusiast, Dr. Francisco Colaco (also a Herald columnist). On the origins of the manddo Dr. Colaco has this to say, taking stock of the socio-political conditions prevailing in the nineteenth century,  “The manddo came [into existence] because Goa was going through troubled times. There was a feudal society…these people who belonged to the elite – especially the Brahmin and the Chardos – they wanted to live in a world of their own. It was a fanciful world that would bring them…consolation. So composers started composing and dancers started dancing”. Dr. Colaco further states that the mandde were sung at weddings where the bride had to sing, surrounded by the guests in the ballroom, where marriages were generally celebrated. According to Dr. Colaco it was from the arrangement of people or “mandavoll” in Konkani, the word manddo came into existence.

What we can immediately understand from Dr. Colaco’s comment is the importance of the historically accurate context for the emergence of the manddo. Indeed, it were the Catholic elite in the nineteenth century, who, imagining themselves as having a Hindu ancestry, created a form of art with the amalgamation of eastern and western characteristics. Thus, the song “Hanv saiba poltoddi vhoitam…”, though a dekhnni, sung by Catholics, which has a kalavant and a boatman as the main characters is a good illustration of the syncretic project and developed on similar lines as the manddo. Of course the fights amongst the Catholic Brahmin and Chardo factions, and also with the Portuguese government for power also provided the political context – the “troubled times” that Dr. Colaco alludes to – for the emergence of the manddo. For the manddo is an invention of the nineteenth century.

Immediately following the claim of Dr. Colaco, the documentary juxtaposes a counter-claim, by Prajal Sakhardande, who teaches history at the Dhempe College of Arts and Science, Panjim. “The word manddo comes from the word mandd”, he says. “Mandd is the village square – the sacred village square – where…shigmo and other performances took place. So it [manddo] has come from there. I do not believe it is mandavoll…”

One is a bit confused after listening to Sakhardande, because his interpretation seems to ignore all known historical facts pertaining to the origin of the manddo. One wonders what nineteenth century Catholic elites would have to do with the mandd, since the manddo even today is not sung on the mandd, neither has the manddo any ritual significance – unlike ceremonies performed on the mandd do. The manddo emerged in elite, landlord settings whether in urban centers like Margao, or in villages like Benaulim and Curtorim in Salcette. The mandd is especially used by bahujan and tribal communities for religious/ritual purposes. Of late Christian tribal communities – such as those in Quepem – have started working towards a cultural revival of the mandd, in order to assert a Christian-tribal identity. Thus, the mandd seems to be restricted to certain communities and ritual practices, and is related to historical processes that one can easily pin-point.

To be fair, both Dr. Colaco and Sakhardande use semantics to understand the history of the manddo. While the former grounds his understanding in known history, the latter seems to be giving merely an arbitrary opinion buttressed by a general desire to locate Goan authenticity in a pre-colonial Hindu past. Such a model of understanding history and culture was used from the nineteenth century by British orientalists and philologists, and civil servants. Following the popularity of Romanticism the assumption was that historical memory best survived in the grammar and semantics of languages, which can provide evidence for the history and culture of peoples.

The larger issue that we can broach here is that more often than not, Goan history is attempted to be pushed back in time, that is, to before the Portuguese rule. If such a popular narrative is existent, one needs to seek the possibility of its correspondence with known historical facts and reality. If such an exercise is not carried out what we have is a history that is overpowered by mythical narratives. A good example will be of how Goan history always begins with the myth of Parashuram. Rather, as we have seen in the case of the manddo, there is a way out of avoiding the mythification of history.

See also 'Dancing to the Same Old Tune', here.

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 13 April, 2016)

DANCING TO THE SAME OLD TUNE

A few weeks ago, in the columns of this very newspaper, I had suggested that projects which dealt with the documentation of traditional practices unwittingly or not become enterprises where modernity was interrogated. I had also suggested that such an enterprise, therefore, should also interrogate traditions in the same token. In this review of a documentary Dances of Goa directed by Nalini Elvino de Sousa and produced by Sociedade de Fomento, I shall try to grapple with such narratives in the selfsame framework.

            Dances of Goa, in Konkani, English and Hindi, is resplendent with colour-rich images and soulful, mellifluous sounds of many of Goa’s traditional dances which are largely performed by the SC/ST/OBC population of Goa such as the fugddi, bhonvaddo, morulo, goff etc. Also featured are mando and khell-tiatr. In the technical aspects such as camera-work, sound and editing, this documentary is not lacking in any way. However, it is the narratives that are offered to the viewer by this documentary which need to be critically analyzed and thus will form the meat of this review.

           

The documentary, a series of 12 episodes, opens with the narrator observing that “…much has changed and life is no longer simple.” Thus, this sets the stage for a binary opposition between tradition and modernity; with the two worlds distinctly separated from each other. Traditional practices here are seen as fossilized, ossified entities, which I would argue creates problems as traditions do change.

            The gaze that is directed largely at Goa’s tribal population is one in which the tribal is projected as ‘essentialized’ and ‘othered’ being. In the episode which deals with fugddi, we are told that “…the Velips can proudly boast of setting a fine example of living eco-friendly and self-sustainable lives. The harmony which they share with their environs is a lesson, urban man can learn from.” Elsewhere there is mention about Quepem as being “…one of Goa’s still green talukas with hills and thick vegetation…” One only has to drive towards Maina-Pirla to see what mining has done to these hills and the green cover!

Further problems emerge because this documentary tries to understand Goa’s traditional practices through a nationalistic lens where one origin is sought and where Christianity is understood and is brushed aside as an historical accident. Take for instance the comments of Pandurang Phaldesai, (then) Member Secretary, Kala Academy, Goa: “Our ancestors have the same roots. Same culture. Due to historical accidents (itihasik apghat) two religions emerged. But our culture remained the same. Our heritage is the harmony that we have maintained.”

            Bhonvaddo is a form of dance that is practiced by persons of the Mahar caste. We are told that although not many persons from the Mahar caste are engaged in their traditional occupation of weaving baskets “…members still continue with the folk performances they were associated with.” Also what is interesting is the fact that when the narrator refers to the “Mahars”, the subtitle has the term “‘Harijan’”. We need to recognize the fact that Dalit groups have rejected this patronizing Gandhian term today. It is through such subtle techniques, I would claim, the seriousness of the role of caste is elided and erased in this documentary.

            Since this documentary clearly understands tradition through nationalist biases, how would one fit in mando given the fact that the mando resulted due to the colonial encounter? The argument falls back on a dubious revision of history in which, “During 451 years of colonial history Catholic Goans used music as a mediator of identity negotiation. In a political context repressing musical sonority of Indian flavour, in which Portuguese was the official language, Catholic Goans created their own music, sung in Konkani and performed according to Portuguese models. Mando is a good example of this and was able to acquire an emblematic status.” Information on the mando is given through an interview by Inácio Sardinha who chose to speak in Portuguese. I am not against anybody speaking in Portuguese, but the specific context in which Portuguese is used tells us something: that an attempt is made to reclaim the mando to the elite Catholic locations in which it had emerged and have since been considered to have fallen from grace. Perhaps, the ideological under-currents that are reflected in this documentary are best illustrated by an article that Nalini Elvino de Sousa, the director of this documentary, wrote in 2012 (See The Goan on a Saturday, 28-12-2012). Being surprised that “a bunch of people jumping all around, clapping hands to the sound of a kind of Konkani rock song with lyrics of a Mando…” at a wedding she attended, de Sousa tells her husband that this is “murdering the Mando”. If people want to sing and dance to the mando de Sousa argues that there is only one way and that is to “do it the right way.” Therefore, a certain conception of ‘purity’ is demanded from all of us and any innovation, such as “jumping and clapping” is to be frowned upon.

           

My final comments will be on khell-tiatrs. An interesting observation that Rafael Fernandes, professor of English at Goa University, makes in the context of tiatrs is “…that as long as Tiatr is alive, the Konkani language doesn’t have to worry.” What I would like to point out is although the documentary acknowledges the contribution of tiatrs, the crucial issue of tiatrs being viewed as lacking standard and thus, delegitimizing the cultural productions of the larger realm of the Roman script is glossed over. The fact is that cultural productions in romi are considered to be ‘polluted’ by the dominant discourse in Goa and hence not capable to represent the mainstream Goan culture. While on the subject of romi, it is quite troubling to observe that the subtitles in the Konkani version are only in the nagri script.

            The images and narratives that are presented in this documentary are uni-dimensional. While confining such traditional practices to a fossilized museum, the performance in contemporary times is expected to be mechanical and static. Can we look beyond such notions?

(A version of this article appeared on Gomantak Times, dt: July 30, 2013).

LOVE WILL KEEP US ALIVE

Come February 14 and one finds the shops in the city stacked with heart-shaped and cupids bearing cards. Besides, chocolates and other Valentine’s Day goodies also make their presence felt. The print as well as the electronic media is flooded with features on Valentine’s Day, with millions around the world anxiously following it.

The festivity of Valentine’s Day is immersed in myth and mystery. Its origins lie in the ancient Roman fertility festival called ‘Lupercalia’, celebrated on the 15 of February. Pope Gelasius in 469 AD changed the date to 14 in order to distance it from Roman paganism and associate it with St. Valentine. During ‘Lupercalia’, young women would place their names in urns and the men would draw a name from the urn. This woman was then romantically linked to the man for the rest of the year.

It is a fact that Valentine’s Day took birth from a Catholic saint named Valentine. However, the Church recognizes three different St. Valentines with three different stories. The first St. Valentine was executed for secretly marrying young lovers against the orders of the Roman Emperor Claudius II. This St. Valentine was friends with the jailer’s daughter whom he sent a letter before being executed on the 14^th of February. He signed this letter as, “From your Valentine.” The second St. Valentine was a bishop of Terni, Italy. He was martyred in Rome. The third St. Valentine is believed to be dead along with many of his other companions in Africa.

The significance of Valentine’s Day may differ for different persons. In order to get an immaculate perspective on Valentine’s Day, I approached Dr. Francisco Colaço, eminent cardiologist, a pioneer of Echocardiography in Goa and social activist and his wife Mrs. Fernanda Colaço, who lectures in Portuguese at Carmel College, Nuvem and Shree Damodar Higher Secondary School of Science, Margao.

Dr. Colaço and Mrs. Colaço both have an inclination towards music. He plays the guitar and she is a good singer. Both ardently love the Goan Manddo and folk music. It comes as no surprise that their love ‘blossomed’ through music at ballroom dances and serenades. “The ice was broken through music,” admits Dr. Colaço. Married for 39 years, Dr. Colaço tenderly states that love happened between them ‘at first sight’ and that this love was, “profound and not just skin deep”. He opines that love ‘binds’ two people with different temperaments and styles.

Dr. Colaço and Mrs. Colaço had married when they were still studying. Subsequently, they moved to Bombay so that he could complete his MD course. There Mrs. Colaço took up a small job, sacrificing her own studies. On completion, they returned to Goa where Dr. Colaço started his consultancy. They later moved to the USA. “Those were hard days,” says Dr. Colaço, at the same time being grateful for all the support he received from his wife.

And then came a day when the worst happened. Melwyn, their son met a sad and untimely death and both of them were devastated. But love held them together and over the stretches of time, they gained a new perspective of life. They came still closer and their relationship deepened. Both agree that faith and religion strengthened them. Their son was, in the words of Dr. Colaço, very humble and charitable. “And our son was also our counsellor,” adds Mrs. Colaço.

For Dr. Colaço, each day is a Valentine’s Day. He holds today’s Valentine’s Day as purely commercialized. “If it reminds you of your loved ones, it’s fine. But if it leads to too much materialism than some moderation is required.” 

Chris Benguhe in the February 2005 issue of ‘Together’ magazine urges us to move away from commercialization as “…blessed love between a man and a woman is an incredible and sincere gift that’s worth waiting for and cannot be forced, bought or bargained for.”

Valentine’s Day has seeped through the boundaries of our cultures, religions and countries. Has love, too? 

(A Version of this article appeared on GOA PLUS, a weekly supplement of the Times of India and the Economic Times, dt: February 13, 2008)