Oh those bumps. From the mini village of Santemol in Raia through the winding patches of green, to the odd blue or green house in the
middle of the fields, there are those speed breakers. Like warts on a fair skin they leap out of nowhere, jolting you out of an early morning half slumber on this road where the rush hour traffic consists of two stray dogs every two kilometers. A bit of a contrast really, almost an oxy-moron to think that anything or anyone between Santemol and Raia would need “speed-breakers”. It was a weekday morning, a time of the week and the time of the day when yours truly is far removed from these parts of Goa.
But on that day the body clock had to be adjusted to the times
gone by. There was a mission at hand, a heart warming one for
which getting up early and driving to Curtorim was absolutely
par for the course. When the body adjusts, the soul and the spirit
remember. If it’s 6.30 am in Panjim, you wander to Cafe Bhonsle,
greet Milind and stretch as the Bhaji puri, sukhi, mirchi bhaji and
chai arrives. The early morning regulars troop in for their daily
ritual, of breaking in the day here. For years Cafe Bhonsle, has
been the link between late night and early morning with a all night
party goer sharing the same table with an uncle who has woken
up at 5 for his morning walk. Milind Bhonsle, the owner has often
rushed straight from a Baga hotspot to open Cafe Bhonsle, after
getting frantic calls from the early morning patrons waiting at 6 am
in front of his Cafe, upset that Milind is “late”
Anyway, with this pit stop done, the drive to the South through
Raia, Santemol and Curtorim was a breeze till those bumps, that
stained that perfect postcard. The rest of the imagery is so flawless,
leaping out of Wordsworth’s Windermere. Raia to Curtorim could
well be the same journey through Ambleside, Grasmere and Rydal,
all villages in Wordworth’s country in North England. The man who
I was driving to meet, is a blythe spirit, in his mid eighties, someone
whom has been toasted very proudly in Business with Pleasure, but
the joy of meeting and learning and knowing him never ends. This
was an important drive to brush up on some history about Herald,
history which is not formally recorded in books or preserved so
carefully and professionally at the grand central library in Panjim.
And the only person in Goa whose memory can cover all the shelves
of Goan history lives in Curtorim, Senor Rafeal Viegas. At the
Central library you can issue well thumbed history books but to get
a taste of it first hand, you need to go to Senor Viegas.
As always the welcome was warm. At half eight he was dressed and
ready with the papers read in his main cavernous living room. His wife
soon arrived with the savories and the tea, the warmth and hospitality
that is such a blessing in a land which now completely my own.
Senor Viegas then started on the story of Herald, a story which was
told before but with each “take”, even if they are at annual intervals,
Senor Viegas gives you an additional nugget or two of information or
an anecdote which becomes another brick in your wall of knowledge,
a precious wall. Here, you were speaking to a man who has Herald in
his blood stream. His father Alvaro was the first sub editor of Herald in
the early 1900’s, making Herald the family paper of Viegas household,
before the term found its way into marketing jargon
The gentle rays of the sun streamed through one of the very
large windows, the surroundings not far removed from what it
must have been in the 1930’s, in the same home, perhaps amidst
some pieces of furniture that still remained. Senor Viegas took us
back close to a century with no effort, a part of his blythe spirit still
there radiating the effervescence of those times. In that hour we
met the British, the French, and of course the Portuguese. We met
journalists and writers, rulers and the nobility, we met books and
journals and Governors and Presidents and civil and police officers
and through all this, realised the role of Herald, as a Fly on the
wall, watching, noting and recording history. There was a sense
of dejavu in that room. 114 years later, here was yours truly, also
recording history, of a man and his family who were a part of it.
Senor Rafael bridges the old and the new, like Herald does, a
proud son and a prouder father whose world now revolves around
his little heart specialist daughter who is of course the best and the
brightest to daddy Rafeal. Some things don’t change. Daughters of
1900 and 2014 will always be little girls to their fathers.
As yours truly drove back, the bumps did not matter. An
old hindi song played on radio, the buzz had started around the
Curtorim church, the girls of St Teresa’s had lined up for their
morning prayers, the pork seller had a big juicy chunk in his shop
in the village and the village bus waited and waited for the old lady
to reach it. In the villages of South Goa 1900 was as beautiful as
2014 is. It’s the same with us at Herald.
