I have always given more than what I have got in return. I am a glad giver after all I am a pious and god fearing. I resemble a tear drop in an ancient land. A fertile land dressed in hues of green and blue. A perfect combination for the tired eye. Now, before I sound too conceited which I am not, let me warn you that even a thing of beauty can also be abused. I am not what they make me to be of late; a home of drug lords; the mafia; thugs; where even the law is lawless and languid. Of late you’d say I have been a gruesome grave for some hapless visitors. Well call me what you want, I am definitely not a murderer. You see each year thousands of tourists are washed upon my sands, they come from miles around to hear a melody that will bring peace to their restless souls; I am David’s harp that is supposed to subdue the sinner. They hear of me through word of mouth, of the many opportunity that lay in wait in my bosom.  I say again, a thing of beauty can be abused; and the effects are far telling and distasteful.

In truth, I wouldn’t even hurt a fly. I watch life go by like a lazy creature after a heavy meal; well that’s part of my charm. Today I speak to you not of what is become of me but of what I am. While I do this I am not afraid of sounding in love with myself.  I promise to tell you who I am just like how it is.

Once upon a time long long ago god lived in world that was perfect – when he made it, he looked down and said it was good. The simpleton that I am didn’t know he was talking about me. I hear that only now from all the tourists. They say, sipping on a beer ‘’Man this place is heaven”, even the moon smiles as the tides wash his memories, and suddenly, a déjà vu and he says it’s like I’ve almost been here before. He then absent mindedly scratches the sand with his bare foot and his white skin gets a natural pedicure. The experience I give you here goes where you go. And it is true, what they say. I have beautiful beaches perched in the west coast of India. Golden, silver and brown sand waiting for the shore to spread its balmy waters with soothing and sometimes rough waves, the latter sometimes  reaching the periphery of the swaying palms that spell romance and peace in my repertoire of goodies that I always unlimber to make my guests have more than their money’s worth. And that is why they visit me every year from the months of November to May. Nowadays the visitors love the rain and greenery created by the southwest monsoon and so they extend their stay to enjoy the sights and sounds of the rain lashing at the gutter tile rooftops and sometimes the bamboo and banana leaf shacks.

But that’s not what I want to talk to you about. The whole Goa thing, oops did I mention my name? But then again, you would have to be an imbecile if you hadn’t guessed by now. What’s that? Did I just hear you laugh at my arrogance? Well too bad for you. You obviously don’t know how to react to confidence. Ha. Let me just say that I am a cauldron of so many cultures; I usually ask where you’re from so I can speak accordingly. Forgive me my transgressions. I can’t help but speak this language you see, this is imbued in my fabric. I was in custody of the laziest of Europeans – the Portuguese; this was of course till the 18th of June 1961, the day I was liberated. However, they say you become like your master and that is so true of me. I am a symbol of nothingness. You can come to me and do nothing. Yes indeed. You heard me right mister, I said nothing. You can come here and do nothing. You’re smiling eh, thinking of how you can make a cheap trip and relax, away from your boss and the cacophony of your hell. What are you waiting for? Your dollars can buy you a lot here. A hotel accommodation will cost you a pittance. So will a scrumptious, coconut based, kokum tossed, onion fried, rice accompanied, fish and other sea food filled, potato laden, finger licking meal together with country made cashew or coconut alcohol. Well nah, actually you don’t have the stomach for that, coming to think of it, you don’t have the nose for it either. The whiff stays with you for a couple of days at least. Good thing there’s that pot belly golden drink with the fizz you can always rely on. 

Now wait a minute, I will have to restrict myself here, there’s lot about me you can read on the vast web of information. A lot of it is junk though I will leave you to come here and see for yourself. What I am going to tell you from now on is about the quieter side of me, the rarer picture.

I am a big village and that’s the truth. With Panjim as my capital; I have a north and south to make it simple with Mapusa as my northern flagship city and Margoa her counterpart in the south. The north is more as they say happening with hordes of tourists that do what you all know they do. The south is usually quainter. The striking thing you’ll notice everywhere is that every village has a church. A Portuguese gift I think. And mind you religion is a big thing here. It’s important to be religious to get noticed. There are some churches where in your name is read out on the microphone publically announcing how much money you contributed to the church fund. Mr. Jose Kaitan comes out smiling all his 25 teeth feeling very shy.  The park adjacent to the church; house to a conference of bickering old men and women exchanging the gossip of the town ensure that they pass on a self righteous smirk. What does he think of himself that good for nothing, alcohol drinking fool? Does he not know that he cannot buy his salvation like that? Huh? Well yawn! Yeah that’s what I do and the trees pick up my cue, the morning moves into a dreary afternoon in Goa and lunch is being prepared – a simple meal; fish, rice and a vegetable dish; the family spends time together during the meal and the famous afternoon siesta drones its way into the goan lifestyle immediately after the senseless banter about current affairs ends. This usually comprises the men sitting on rocking chairs enjoying dry afternoon weather while talking about what the government should be doing to better the infrastructure; of course there is also free advice thrown in about which stocks to purchase and when. And then zzzz and even I doze off…you won’t see a mouse on the village streets in siesta time.

The snooze ends as one of my boys wakes up to the sound of a crowd screaming in delight. Bloody hell; ‘I am missing the match’, he exclaims. These people of mine are crazy about football; I am amongst the top teams in India together with West Bengal; but honestly any foreign club would make a meal of us; such is the sorry state of affairs of our sports infrastructure. But that is a different story.

My people are mostly of humble financial background; they usually commute by bus for which they have to wait for hours. The bus winds along narrow typically Goa roads. I tell you I have dangerous curves, well I don’t mean to be suggestive; I’m talking about my roads. Accidents galore. Motor bikes the most economical means of transport are abused. A whole family; husband, wife and 2 children or 4 male friends giving each other a lift to their destination is a common sight. My blood boils, but I see them home safely. 

With the days meandering by like this, once in while there comes an exciting thing for all Goans, that thing is marriage. A celebration for revellers. Another opportunity for the locals to enjoy free drinks. 
A marriage is a holy union and is given due respect in Goa. But there are also parties galore, of course very symbolic parties at that. Family and well wishers apply coconut milk to the bridal couple; this signifies blessings for a prosperous and happy future. This is followed by meaningful songs depicting the bride leaving her home and joining her husband; tears are shed some are feigned and sorrowful looks exchanged. A full hearted sing a song session ensues. The guitar, piano, violin and a percussion instrument made from an earthen pot and snake skin form a potent combination. Did I mention that my people are a musical lot? Almost everyone plays an instrument and sings in harmony. Natural ear for music is common amongst Goans. So is gossip. 

The day of the wedding arrives. Around four thirty in the morning and the street witnesses a brass band pass by till it reaches the door steps of the wedding home. What? You’re asking me if I’m crazy? Do I mean that? Well of course I do, four thirty in the morning and yes brass band!! Trumpet, trombone, clarinet and drum. There goes my beauty sleep. Today the couple wakes up before the sun. They have a long day ahead. A long walk up the isle yoked together hand in hand. After the nuptials, you will hear crackers and as smoke fills the air the crowd lines up to wish the bridal couple; Aunty Mary and aunty Sukorin compete to race each other to the newlyweds; after all they need to prove that they were there to give their all important wedding blessings. 

The feast there after. One delicacy after another. Signature dishes are spread across the table. Sorpotel- which is a pork delicacy; Chicken Vindalo; a special fattened calf prepared for the feast; stuffed pigling; Curries; salads; and rice and bread make the meal complete. Goan sweets like doce, bebinca and dodol top it up. I am fully satisfied and everybody is smiling, the band goes on into the night….

The next thing you’ll notice in Goa is that the average house is fairly large and is almost always a bungalow. A well juxtaposed provides mineral water and taste to the food. Beautiful teak wood furniture and high ceilings. Plenty of foliage around the house and snakes too. Now mind you a lot of that land that you see adjacent to the house doesn’t have a legal owner. Litigation after litigation, even the law is too lazy to budge. Two must haves in the house are a balcony with gates fitted with rocking chairs. And a room for worship; this altar room houses all the saints and the trinity. One must kiss all the Gods - a good habit indeed! 

Come February, and its carnival time in Goa. Plenty of fun for people across all ages. Although I must warn that most of it is basic and reverent and is concentrated in one or two places in the state. We have good talent, dancers and actors; this is probably not the time to speak about funerals but the famous folklore tells us of people that are actually hired to cry at funerals. Professional criers. Whoever said that the theatre is dead? I smile.

I could go on, but I am almost done, I have to leave you something to experience, isn’t it? And that is why I chose to mention this aspect of me that tourists do not see. I invite you to come and experience my hospitality; my culture; my people; my peace; my history; my love. The next time, spend some time with this other side of me; Goa. You will be left spell bound – a guarantee; 
It is truly a blessing to understand the things that you need that money cannot buy. Come and experience life through my eyes, its fragility and beauty I can testify too in the simplicity of everyday life.