The New Goan Writer  

A review of:     

Inside Out: New Writing from Goa

Ed. by Helene Derkin Menezes & Jose Lourenco,

Goa, 1556 & Goa Writers, Goa, 2011.

What’s the connection between Amitav Ghosh, Kornelia Santoro, Himanshu Burte, Vidyadhar Gadgil, Aimee Ginsburg, Veena Gomes-Patwardhan, Mafalda Mimoso, Sucheta Potnis, Melinda Coutinho Powell, Prava Rai and Aniruddha Sen Gupta?

Correct, you recognize names from the papers or even on book covers, the giveaway being Amitav Ghosh, who surely must be awarded the Nobel Prize one day. (His latest book River of Smoke the second in his Ibis trilogy is currently getting rave reviews).

They all have a Goan connection.  Along with Frederick Noronha, Isabel Vas, Damodar Mauzo, Ben Antao, Savia Viegas, Victor Rangel-Ribeiro and others they call themselves Goa Writers  (GW),  cosmopolitans who symbolize the new Goa.

Professional or part-time writers, most of whom, but not all are based in Goa, GW organises themselves on the lines of an Enid Blyton like secret society, their lingua franca being English.

They confabulate among themselves, squabbling sometimes, drinking sometimes, then suddenly they spring up with a literary festival or event open to the public. Their delightful child-like enthusiasm is good for Goa’s image as a decent place to hang out.

Inside/Out: New Writing from Goa is an anthology of short stories, essays and photographs of 29 GWs. It exemplifies the group’s joyous naiveté - for instance in the way the one really big name among them - Amitav Ghosh - graciously lends his name to their effort.

One naturally opens Inside/Out to Ghosh’s piece first, expecting a sparkler, but here he prefers to be scholarly.  His essay is about a 19th century nautical dictionary written by one Anthony Vaz. Apparently the terms were used by ‘lascars’ or ‘tarvottis’ of the sail ship era.

Although lascars is a derogatory term, Ghosh says that they were among ”the first Asians and Africans to participate freely and in substantial numbers in a globalised workspace. They were among the first to travel extensively; the first to participate in industrial processes of work...” and so on. What’s the point? Maybe Ghosh’s puzzling article has a secret purpose - could it possibly be to unearth more material he could use in a forthcoming volume of his Ibis trilogy?

The anthology starts off well enough though, with Ben Antao’s ‘Margarida’. It is the Canada based novelist’s well crafted full bodied 1950s tale of mutually satisfying lust between a young Goan cop and a frisky Goan woman who has returned from Africa where her husband works, to put her sons in a boarding school.

Jose Lourenco’s surreal ‘The Fever’ about a couple who come closer to one another after believing a doctor who says that the husband’s shadow  has caught a fever is another story that catches the eye, as does Pamela D’Mello’s  ‘The Teacher’ who sympathizes with two migrant school kids.

Damodar Mauzo is the only Konkani writer here, wisely offering an excerpt from his latest novel ‘Tsunami Simon’ translated by Xavier Cota. It’s a pity that other Konkani writers are not more open to translation like him. The piece he chooses to be represented by however is unfortunate. It’s about a dolphin trapped in a fisherman’s net and it resembles too closely in theme Pundalik Naik’s classic Konkani story ‘The Turtle’.

Vivek Menezes photo essay on Moira village starts with a fruit tree that symbolises old-time Moira, the banana. There follow portraits of descendants of resident Moidekars who are old-worldly. In between there is among other things a picture of an aristocratic Moira family tree placed next to obsolete electricity fittings. The series ends with a peepul tree bound with string signifying Moira’s new ethos for this is a typically Sanskritised ritual which modern Hindu women perform for the safety of their husbands. Maybe this is postmodern VM’s way of saying “De kat-licks are licked men”. But why is arguably Goa’s finest prose writer so skimpy with his words?

A lot of the writing like that of Mario Coelho is a good read for the kids and much is exemplary for those who want to write well, although there is a wee too much of nostalgia: for instance there is Melinda Coutinho Powell’s account of how she gets acceptance in a Goan village; Helene Derkin Menezes on finding love and a home in foreign Goa; Wendell  Rodricks’ sad young days of struggle in Paris; Fatima da Silva Gracias’ colouirful family history; Victor Rangel-Ribeiro’s memories of his brother Oscar; Cecil Pinto’s memorable wedding; Tony D’Sa’s memoirs of his last days in Africa and so on. Having said that this book avoids the usual touristy clichés about Goa being a sun, surf and sex place and that it has cultured and human sides to it.

 

A treat is the feisty Vidyadhar Gadgil resenting the discrimination that bhailles get in ‘An Outsider among the Goans’. But his slogan ‘Garv Se Kaho Hum Ghaati Hai’ rings false - no real ‘ghanti’ would be proud to be labelled one.

So what’s new about the writing? Stylistically there is not much worth crying home about; but then after Dostoevsky and Don Quixote and Desani what can ever possibly be new?

And as for the content, when there are NGOs and newspapers and TV channels, why should GWs bother themselves with drugs and rapes and murders and police brutality and bribes; and tribals and low castes getting a raw deal (yes in Goa these things do happen).

Not to worry for GWs make excellent Page 3 material and besides there’s always Arundhati Roy and Aires Rodrigues to badger the State. But all said and done Inside/Out promises GW has greater things in store in future.

[This review appeared in the August 2011 issue of Goa Today]