15.2.2020
I slept for 12 hours totally wacked by
the heat. It was time to sort out why I
had been charged three times to book the
Silken Sands Hotel. The website of Expedia said your booking has not gone through,
try again. So I tried three times. On the third attempt I was told to use
another card. The Vanquis card went through but the Lloyds card was also
debited.
The manager was very polite. He offered
me coffee and spoke a bit about Goa about how it had changed with the Russian
mafia getting involved in drugs. He assured me that the hotel received no money
from the bookings and the problem was with Expedia. So I have to return to
Expedia who told me that the booking could not be cancelled. I was not asking
them to cancel the booking. Just to refund the money. It will take many more
emails to get the money back and I suspect in the end the credit card company
will refund it.
Started the blog. I am not sure how it
will go. I have never written a blog before and I don’t know how to upload
videos. But videos are not really necessary.
The restaurant in the hotel never ceases
to amaze. Rice and vegetables means raw
carrots so I pick the carrots out of the rice. The Nepalese waiter tells me
rice is boring. We talk about temples and first he says he is 100 percent Hindu
then he insists he respects all religions and in the end he comes to the
conclusion that the Buddhist religion is best as it is not a religion. In front
of his parents he is a good Hindu and sticks to the rules but he does not like
a religions with a lot of does and don’ts.
On the what sap conversation with my
Hindu friend in London I am asked to buy some grass from one of the old ladies
who sit in front of the temple and feed a cow on behalf of his family. I say I
will do it but there were no such old ladies sitting in front of the
temple I visited yesterday. He misses
India and he was meant to go to north
India with me to Babaji’s cave but life dealt him a difficult set of cards and
he couldn’t come. It is difficult to
understand what the cosmic decides for each of us but we do not have the wide
vision of the creator of the universe and have to accept what we do not always
understand. Easier said than done.
16.2.2020
This is the second day of touring. At
breakfast an Indian gentleman asks me where I am going today. I tell him to a
temple, a mosque and churches. As soon as he hears mosque his mood changes and
he launches into a diatribe about how there is going to be a blood bath in
India as the Muslims want to divide the country once again. He says the most
fanatical Muslims are in Pakistan and in Europe. He is convinced they want to
take over Downing Street and the world. He is a man with rigid views. Even if
you want to have a discussion he will not let you get a word in. I am glad he
wishes me a nice day and leaves. Of
course the Muslims have done and are doing things that are grossly out of order
in India and elsewhere. But I don’t need these politics, these harsh realities.
I just want to enjoy the beauty of Goa.
Alan arrives on time as bright eyed and bushy tailed as I am. There
are lots of scooters on the road. I have not seen one person wearing a crash
helmet. Judging by the electrics they are not so hot on health and safety
either.
“People were loving and helpful here
once,” Alan says with a note of sadness in his voice. “Now they only look at
what you have and what they can get out of you.” I assure him everyone I met
was very nice to me. “You have been here two days,” he replies sarcastically.
“Stay here a few months and you will change your speech.” Who knows maybe one
day I will stay for a few months and I might change my speech!
Our first destination is the Shree Chandreswar Bhutmath Saunsthan Temple.
It is on top of the 350m high Chandranath Hill near Paroda Village. It is a pleasant drive through the trees but
there are no monkeys. I did not pray to the monkey god Hanuman who I like so
much to send me monkeys. “You believe in that?” asks Alan. I tell him I am a
devotee of Hanuman and he just looks at me. “Maybe he will send you a monkey.”
I can tell by the tone in his voice he thinks it is all a big joke.
We climb the 295 steps to the temple. It
is early morning, before 9am, the sun has not come out in full force yet and
there is a pleasant breeze. Half way up (I am counting the steps) is a very
small temple with some small photos of various gods.
When we reach the temple Alan sits down
and says “I will wait for you.” We have an understanding that half an hour is allocated for the temples. I have to
do my meditation. At the entrance to the temple is a picture of a snake with
seven heads. My Hindu friend tells me later on whats ap that it is samudra
manthan one of the best-known episodes in the Hindu philosophy narrated in the
Bhagavata Purana, in the Mahabharata and in the Vishnu Purana. The samudra
manthana explains the origin of amrita, the nectar of immortality. I wish he
was here but as Lenin said “by peace if we can by force if we must.” I adapted
his saying regarding travels with friends: with you if I can without you if I
must. Sadly it is without you because I must.
Shri Chandreshwar Bhoothnath Temple is one of the oldest and most famous temples of
Goa, dedicated to Lord Shiva. It is said that Chandreshwar is an
incarnation of Lord Shiva and is worshipped as Lord of the Moon. According to
lore water seeps out of the Lingam(a symbol of divine generative energy,
especially a phallus or phallic object as a symbol of Shiva) when the rays of
the moon fall on it. The Shivalinga is placed in such a way that the moonbeams
on a full moon night fall upon it. Located on the Chandranath Hill in Quepem,
this temple has been renovated several times. The Chandranath Bhoothnath Temple
is associated with the Bhoja dynasty. They
named their capital Chandrapur which was changed to Chandor by the Portuguese.
Next door to this temple is a smaller temple dedicated to Bhoothnath, the Lord
of ghosts, also another name for Lord Shiva. There
is a palanquin procession of the deity held every Monday evening and food is
then offered to the worshipers.
There are the usual things to buy inside the temple:
garlands of orange flowers, coconuts and incense. No cows and no old ladies
selling straw. Orange robed priests are chanting. They look radiant and healthy
with ample flesh but not obese. They give me a welcoming smile. The sun seems to shine out of their eyes.
I sit myself down with my back against the wall on the
marble floor. No obliging chairs here but surprisingly I am fine. By the time
my meditation is over the priests have gone. I bow before the large statue,
leave a few rupees and take my leave. A young man looks surprised I have left
money. Hanuman will get the garland and the coconut.
Even Alan remarks that it is a nice temple even though he
has never set foot inside. Going down stairs is harder on the knees than going up and we reach the car
with only one rest. I want to buy water but Alan says not from here. He would
rather a shop keeper in the town sells it to me. As we pass a Catholic school
Alan remarks that Hindus send their children to Catholic schools.
We arrive at Big
Foot in Lutolim. It is a recreation of yesteryear with bright statues, lots
of explanations of how things were in those days. Alan really does not like
this place and has only brought me here because Billy put it on the itinerary.
And as Billy gives Alan lots of customers – including me – so he does what he
is told. He lets it be known that few customers are as nice as I am. Some just
sit in the back and say nothing. “I can tell from their faces, their eyes what
kind of people they are. They do not need to talk.” He could write his memoirs
as a taxi driver. He has done the job for around 20 years.
I buy the ticket. Alan tells me to only buy one ticket as
I do not need to see the historic house. But the ticket seller has other ideas
and I have to buy two tickets. As soon as I have bought the tickets a man in a
uniform takes me by the hand and leads me to the Case Araujo Alvares, Goa’s first sound and light heritage house.
This house is totally different from the house of horrors I
went to two the day before yesterday. It is brightly painted and there is a
welcoming little man, rotund as a barrel
who tells me I have to wait until the end of the current sound and light show.
“The house had six people, 20 servants, and one care taker and was built in
1755,” he says smiling as if he expects me not to believe him. It does not take
long for the latest sound and light show to end and it is very pleasant sitting
on the shaded veranda.
As soon as you enter the house the happy music of the
Mediterranean greets you and a confident matter of fact lady’s voice tells the
story of what is in each room. There must be underemployment in Goa because the
little man follows me round and repeats what the woman on the recording has
said. After two rooms another man appears, this one taller and leaner and does
the same thing. Before the visit is over I have at least four guides in
addition to the audio guide. They have all learned their lines to perfection
and I write down what they say in my note book and look interested – which I
genuinely am.
Casa
Araujo Alvares wears her glory in antiquity and grandeur not unlike a grand
dame of yore. From the wide entrance to the stately interiors, the house
beckons the visitor, like a platter of sumptuous meals. This 250 year old
mansion belongs to the Alvares family and forms part of the ancestral Goa
tourist complex set up to recreate Goan village life under Portuguese rule. It
was named after the owner Eufemiano Araujo Alvares a prominent lawyer. The
mansion is constructed round an interior courtyard and features a chapel at its
centre. It is gracefully furnished with European antiquities and old photos.
Each room is preserved as it was centuries ago, including the kitchen filled
with traditional implements. Alvares office has an intriguing desk with secret
drawers and corners and a collection of pipes. Other unique items are a
collection of Ganesh dolls and a prayer room with 300 of icons (pictures) of
Jesus. There are bullet holes on the walls next to a metal locked door. The
family locked themselves in this room with their valuables when thieves came
and they did not manage to steal a thing. “We preserve so you may observe” is
an obligatory sign in every room. In the
garden a Roman statue and Ganesh exist in a happy symbiosis.
The last real life guide is impatient
for the recording to finish so the next lot of tourists can be let in. I want
to say goodbye to the rotund little man but he is nowhere in sight. I return to
the car and Alan and explain that I was more or less forced to see the house.
He just smiles but he is happy I enjoyed it. I learned early on that when
someone takes you by the hand and says “come” in India you just go and it turns out for the best. Well
it has so far.
Big foot is a large complex with a
winding path and ‘this way’ signs which gives a penetrating flash of insight
into the village life of Goa. There are brightly painted statues like in a
gaudy theme park but it’s a fun place. There is also a wishing well which I
don’t find. Alan scoffs at such things
but asks if I want to go back and ask someone to tell me where it is. I don’t
want to spend to much time here as I sense Alan is in a hurry to get me to our next
destination the Safa Mosque.
Big
foot is a miniature Goan village set up to recreate the rural life of old days.
It is privately run by an artist called Maendra Jocelino Araujo Alvares. The
open-air museum recreates Goan rural life as it was a hundred years ago. In
this model village one can also see different miniature houses that showcase
traditional occupational and social classes such as fishermen, and Goan artisans. There is a music school known as Escola da Musica,
farmers, liquors shops, the village market, and a distillery. The museum has many sections with
the reception and Parasuram, the legendary lord who is the avatar of Lord
Vishnu is believed to have created the land of Goa by shooting an arrow from
the Sahyadri mountains into the Arabian Sea. The museum also has fisherman a cowshed and haystack. Then comes the
Bhatti- Jaki's distillery where Goa's famous "Feni" and
"Urak" is distilled. Then the potter - Nandu, then the carperter - Inas and the Shepherd-Krish.
There is also a craft village where
craftsmen are busy working on their wares. Then comes the flower-seller, basket
weaver, bangle seller, gram seller, the cobbler and Tinto - a market place
where fresh food products are sold. Then Anand's House, the music school of
Maestre Cloude, Posro, the general stores or a shop, taverna , the country
liquor shop made of stone and mud. And finally Big Foot. Legend has it that anyone stepping
on the big foot with a pure at heart will be blessed with good luck. The
longest laterite (a redish clay material) sculpture in India is that of Sant
Mirabai measuring 14 meters by 5 meters created by Maendra Jocelino Araujo Alvares in
just 30 days. It shows the influence of the Gandhara School, a style of
Buddhisgt art. The kumkum on the
forehead, the armlet, pattli on her wrists and the paisona around her ankles
give the sculpture a characteristic Goan appeal.
Even though there are 70 mosques in Goa
they do not get a lot of publicity on the tourist route. We are off to the Safa mosque in Ponda town.
Mangoes are being sold by the side of the road and Alan tells me there is a special way to eat them with a
preparation of salt and spices. When we
reach town Alan is not sure where the mosque is. He speaks to a local in
konkani the Goan language and off we go. I remember the word rasta (road). We
go through a concrete tunnel and Alan parks by the side of the motorway. I hang
on to his hand for dear life as we cross and come to the Safa Mosque complex.
It is magnificent with lawns and a water tank with niches in the form mihrab
arches around the structure. A natural spring keeps the tank filled with water
throughout the year. It is 55 metres long and 38 meters wide with six flights
of steps leading into the water. Great place for a swim. Bad joke. Alan is
horrified by the suggestion. “You will go to jail,” he says. Getting me out of
trouble is obviously not on his bucket list.
On the outskirts
of Ponda town is the historic Safa
Masjid or The Shifa Shahourie Masjid. This Islamic ecclesiastical structure is
a historian's delight. In fact, the hustling modern town life of Ponda has not
affected the serene, sublime and elegant period look of this great mosque. It
has withstood the ravages of time. Literally, the Arabic word ‘Safa'
means clean, chaste and pure and the title befits this beautiful structure
which is devoid of any mindless extravagance and grandeur. It is meant for the
chaste, clean and for the pure at heart and a devout Muslim. Sultan Ali Adilshah I built the Safa Masjid of Ponda in 1560 during
the rule of Sultan Ali Adilshah I ( 1557-1580). Ponda was captured by the Portuguese in the mid 18th century. The greatness of the
Safa Masjid lies not in what is left of the one time prosperous religious
complex but its ruins which vividly recapitulate the past glory. The most
interesting is the huge tank with 44 ‘hammams' (hot air baths) dotting its
four, interior sides in the typically Islamic Mehrab style archs. The tank has
a flight of steps in the typically Hindu
bathing ‘ghats' style. This green rectangular tank holds a mirror to the small mosque which stands
elegantly facing it. The tank and the mosque is made of laterite stone masonry. The mosque originally
was built up of the exposed laterite which was dotted with a number of Mehrab
style arch and niches for people to pray accompanied with the original laterite
pilaster. You can still see the remnants of the mehrab archs on all the four
sides of the mosque where the top half of the mosque is plastered with a cream
colour with chhajja (eaves) design and Persian style Mehrub double arches. On
the top half of the mosque, the ‘mehrab' double arches are crowned with a
beautiful lotus bud motif which adds to the serene beauty of this simple
mosque. Here the mehrab style windows are square in shape. The Safa Masjid is a
fusion of Indo-Islamic style. The roof is tiled and you also find some ruined
standing laterite pillars. The mosque and the tank were formally surrounded by
an extensive garden with many fountains.
I sit on the steps leading to the water. Alan
sits some distance away. The beauty and simplicity of the architecture is
breathtaking. All cares and worries, not that there are any at this point, are
dissolved in the water.
Having done justice to Goa’s Hindu and Muslim heritage it is now
time for the Christians. I have seen the outside of many Christian churches but
now it’s time to see the inside of the churches. Alan is very happy. He is in
his element now. Enough of idolatry – well that is how he looks at it.
We start by driving up a hill to the Lady of the Mount Church. Alan tells me that girls and boys slip
away from school to make love on this hill. He takes me there for the
magnificent views. The church was whitewashed for an Indian movie and is now a
hit with the Hindus. I remember an Indian film I saw 43 years ago. Everything
was larger than life with the hero managing to outrun a wild dog. Escapism is good. Forget the bobby wood
kitchen sink dramas.
Although its
secluded location often leads to this little church being overlooked, it is
certainly worth a stop on a tour of Velha Goa (Old Goa). With simple exteriors,
lavish interiors and wealth of historical significance, this chapel is what one
might call a hidden treasure. Its plain whitewashed walls present a delightful
picture at sunset, and the view from its vantage point is truly breath taking.
Situated as it is atop the Monte near the Church of St. Cajetan, it overlooks
the expanse of the Mandovi and the islands of Devar and Chorao. It is on the top of the “Monte” that the
chapel of Our Lady of the Mount” was built soon after the conquest of Goa to
mark the site from where Adil Shah positioned his artillery against the
Portuguese forces to retake Goa in 1510. So when Afonso de Albuquerque defeated
the Sultan’s forces, he made a vow to construct a church at the very strategic
point on the mount. The church was constructed in 1519 and has been rebuilt
twice since. The churches chancel has three altars. The main altar has at its
centre the image of Our Lady of the Mount holding the child Jesus. Above it is
a picture of the coronation of the Virgin Mary, and below that a picture of Our
Lady of the Assumption.
After that
we head to the waterfront where there is a Viceroy’s
Arch
with a large engraving of Vasco de Gama. I really don’t know what it is
with Alan and his admiration for the colonisers. “They brought as railways,
communication, the English language.” Well, yes but they also plundered India.
I guess they weren’t all bad but it is strange to me that an Indian is actually
supporting them. I suggest Alan reads Inglorious
Empire: What Britain did to India. Don’t think there is much chance of that
and if he is happy believing the colonialists were beneficial to India, God bless him.
He recites children’s nursery rhyme: Vasco de Gama created a drama. He
dropped his pyjama and showed his banana. It’s good he has a sense of humour.
I have met others who were supportive of
British colonialism. The Sudanese gentlemen in London who are more English than
the English and speak of the glorious times in Sudan under the British when
there was a functioning administration. The South Yemenis had a movement bring
the British back some years ago. When I was in Aden an old woman came up to me
on the beach, kissed me and asked me why did you ever leave?
The
Viceroy's arch in Old Goa was built in the memory of Vasco Da Gama in 1597, by his
great-grand son Francisco da Gama
after he became the viceroy. There was a ceremonial importance attached to this
structure during the Portuguese rule. Every governor who took charge of Goa had to pass through the arch. Vasco da Gama
was a Portuguese explorer who sailed to India from Europe. Gold, spices, and
other riches were valuable in Europe. But they had to navigate long ways over
sea and land to reach them in Asia. Europeans during this time were looking to
find a faster way to reach India by sailing around Africa. Da Gama accomplished
the task. By doing so, he helped open a major trade route to Asia. Portugal
celebrated his success, and his voyage launched a new era of discovery and
world trade.
We walk to the water front and take a
look at the car ferry. It only has one car and does not look very steady to me. There is also
a crocodile safari. Of course you see a crock. The guys on the boat put some
meat in the water to make sure the crocs put in an appearance. Pity the same
tactic does not work with the snow leopards. Divar Island is in the middle of
the Mandovi river. It looks small and
uninviting.
One church is definitely not enough in
Goa. Next on the agenda is Se
Catherdral, the Church of Saint Cajetan, the church where Saint Francis De
Xavier’s body that will not decompose is kept and the Church of our Lady of the Immaculate Conception.
All the churches are majestic. There are
magnificent carvings, altars and statues. The Christian religion means a lot to
the Goans. Whenever we enter the church Alan makes the sign of the cross with
holy water and I do the same. “Do you like the churches,” he asks. “Of course I
like them.” How can one not like these historic monuments to Christianity? I
sit quietly in the Lady of the Immaculate Conception Church. Two meditations in
one day. One in a temple and one in a church. Praise be to one God, the
architect of the universe. Alan likes that. “The architect of the universe”, he
says thoughtfully.
Se Cathedral has
an interesting name. The word ‘Se’ means
‘see’. It was a symbolic structure built to showcase the Portuguese’s victory
over an invading Muslim army in the early 16 th century. The exact day of that
victory is celebrated as the Feast of Saint Catherine, in this church. For the
construction, the expenses were tallied by funds procured by selling the crown’s properties. In the mid of 15 th
century, the then-governor of Goa
started to enlarge the structure and the construction was completed in the middle of 17 th century. This structure had
two towers. A little after 120 years from the year of construction, one of the
towers collapsed and was never built again. Pope Pius XII presented the
honorary ‘Golden Rose’ to the cathedral, which is now placed on the tomb of
Saint. Francis Xavier, inside the cathedral.
The Church of St. Cajetan lies half a kilometre to
the northeast of the Se Cathedral at Old Goa or Velha Goa. Built by ‘Theatine
Friars’ in 1655, the Church was originally called Church of Our Lady of
Divine Providence as the main altar was dedicated to her. (Born Gaetano dei
Conti di Thiene (Cajetan Thiene), an Italian Catholic priest and religious
reformer, Cajetan is recognised as a saint in the Catholic Church, and his
feast day is August 7.) Since
St. Cajetan was the co-founder of the Theatine Order, a contemporary of St.
Francis Xavier, the Church was named after him. One of the altars on the right
side of the entrance has been dedicated to him. The church is in the form of
a Greek cross and has a large dome with Latin inscriptions from
the Gospel of Matthew on its inside. The Corinthian style facade of
the church has four granite statues of Saints Peter, Paul, John
the Evangelist and Matthew. The church has seven altars, with the
main altar dedicated to Our Lady of Providence.
The
Basilica of the Bom Jesus (Church, St Francis Xavier Church), a UNESCO world
heritage site, is located in Old Goa the earliest settlement of Portuguese
voyagers in India. The word Bom Jesus means the Good or the Holy Jesus.
The
Spanish Jesuit St. Francis Xavier (1506-1552) was a
pioneer of Catholic missions in eastern Asia. Known as the Apostle of the East Indies, he has been acclaimed as
one of the greatest missionaries in history. The basilica was built as a memorial of St Francis
Xavier. It is one of the oldest churches in India built under the order of
archbishop Dom Fr. Aleixo de Menezes. The construction started in 1594 and the
inauguration was in 1605, the year which also marks the calendar year for
the propagation of Christianity in India. The church holds the mortal remains
of the revered St Francis Xavier. It is
one of the architectural marvels of European renaissance built in the Baroque style. The gothic framing, the
transcending pillars and arches, the gilded altars, decorated walls and
ceilings have a mesmerizing effect on
visitors.
It may be
a great church and he may have been a great missionary but I found the whole experience
very ghoulish and distasteful. Every 10 years the body, which has not
decomposed, is brought down for viewing. The next viewing will be in 2024. Alan
has seen it before and he may see it again. I wouldn’t mind seeing it in 2024.
Yogananda’s body did not decay either but the Hindus are not engaging in such a
spectacle. The gurus may get more followers if they did but like Christ said:
You have believed because you have seen – blessed as those who have not seen
but have believed.”
It is
hellishly hot. Goa is like Sudan. There are only three seasons, hot, very hot
and hellishly hot. I feel the back of my back which is not covered by the kurta
(a loose Indian shirt) has been burned. Alan confirms this and I cover it with
a scarf. Post cards are bought and we go
to Habitat a very upmarket handicraft shop.
“We are
going play a game,” Alan says. “For every customer I bring I get 500 rupees. So
go into the shop look at everything, ask about the price in dollars, get their
visiting card and leave. I will collect 500 and we can go and have lunch.”
The shop
is a cut above the rest. There are amazing kurtas with gold threads and
Kashmiri rugs. They can be sent to the UK. Perhaps the joke is on me. I would
have liked to buy something for real but it is too early in the trip to spend
big bucks. Alan got his 500 rupees. He shows me the receipt. If I buy something
he gets 20 percent.
Lunch is
at a local restaurant on the Mandovi river. The red wine is rubbish and the
vegetable kebab does not come on squer but is a mixture of potatoes and
vegetables like a pastie. Indian interpretations of food never cease to amaze.
Alan
talks about the rackets and cheating that goes on among the taxi drivers and
about his life. He was born in Goa but spent 18 years in France. His first
marriage, an arranged marriage, did not work out as his wife was a gold digger
and he went through a bitter divorce. He then married another woman from Goa
and had a son. I saw him briefly, a very happy, polite young man. Sadly his
second wife died four months ago of a brain haemorrhage.
Our last
stop is Dona Paula. Dona Paula
was a young girl, the daughter of
Portuguese Viceroy Dona Paula de
Menezes. She fell in love with a Goan fisherman but when the viceroy found about their affair, he became very angry
and forbade young Dona Paula to meet her lover again. In
the Goan version of Romeo and Juliet
only Juliet jumps of the cliff . The
grief stricken viceroy names the area of the Arabian Sea where his
daughter lost her Dona Paula. The memorial is closed so Alan and I sit on a
bench gazing out to sea.
The drive back is exhausting and I fall
asleep. There is a hold up on the bridge. Back at the hotel at 6pm I go to bed
after a shower and wake up at 2am the next morning.
