Last September, when I met him and his wife, at the Panjim Inn where they were putting up, and later at Caravela Panjim, for a tea party along with some historians, we never guessed it was a farewell party. He too never realised it would be so. Not as yet. For him, “the woods were lovely, dark and deep and he had promises to keep”. Books to write, students to guide.
At the Xavier Centre of Historical Research, where he was the founder director and I worked as a librarian under his expert guidance for over a decade, he built the library from scratch. His historical vision, passion for books were amazing. There and through him, I saw a fascinating world of the written word, unfolding before me. He was a “book connoisseur”, could spot “the right book”, whether from publishers’ catalogues or private collections, and bring it “to the right place”, even leaflets or pamphlets had a meaning. Many a time he used to come rushing into the library and say, “Look. Here is a gem of a book to enrich our collection.”
His maiden work (based on his doctoral thesis) was a breakthrough in some ways. The earlier historians, some of them very capable, had patiently, assiduously brought to light various documents which otherwise would lie unknown. But he was the first to raise questions, destroy the hitherto accepted concept of Golden Goa, depicting Goa as a paradise in colonial times. Born in the bucolic village of Moira, he was aware of the struggle of poor rural people and the disparity between them and the Portuguese-pampered elites. His anti-colonial views won for him friends and foes. But merit attracts merit and he could manage to bring to the institute the best scholars and savants.
His voice found an echo when Ranajit Guha came out with his Subaltern Studies in 1982. All the ten volumes, one by one (1982-89), came to sit on our shelves. The subalterns had a champion who went to the Goa University and other places to lecture about their unrecognised contribution to History.
At times he used to confide in me, I being older than him. When I met him last, he told me he had mellowed down with age. Earlier he had strong opinions. With his fiery temperament, he landed into many word-duels with those who opposed him. I could see that he had learnt to compromise, see other person’s point of view. I am seriously thinking these days that when he said “mellowed down”, he meant “sans rancour” to all he had displeased.
He was a Goan at heart, even when away from Goa. When he, my late husband and me had dinner together, they would converse on all things Goan. Comunidades, agriculture, environment, hoping for a greener Goa. They shared similar childhood experiences of running through fields and plucking fresh fruit from trees. I can visualise them discussing Goa in life beyond.
Before I end, I take this opportunity to condole his wife Elvira who was always by his side, gentle, kind and supportive. As he is laid to rest in a Lisbon cemetery, from this corner of Goa, I pay my sincere homage to a great historian whose work will outlive him.
