SATURDAY, MAY 11, 2024
As our chat groups get flooded with requests for convalescent plasma, Remdesivir, oxygen tanks and hospital beds and social media feeds are rife with condolences or desperate cries for help from people whose loved ones are fighting for their lives, the prevailing mood is a pessimistic one.
With the difficulty of the present moment, and an uncertain future ahead, the past has never looked better. And although not all past memories are ones we want to dig up, there are those that always leave a smile on our faces. For me, one of them is the days of “Serenata” or serenading.
Serenading conjures up thoughts of young men singing or playing for their beloved standing beneath the window at night. But “Serenatas”, as they were conceived in days of yore (when the Portuguese tradition was in vogue) encompassed a whole gamut of experiences: - romantic strains that rented the air; lovely chords from “our guitars” (on quiet nights of quiet stars); a courageous attempt - by a few musically-talented chivalrous youngsters - to tell every lady in town (not only their sweethearts!) they were lovable, nay adorable. “Serenata” was truly an outpouring of the soul, a toast to femininity, an ode to love, a way of life, in those “sossegado” days of my youth, when healthy fun and serious work blended admirably.
Four or five of us gathered at short notice, armed with stringed instruments; there was a “tom-tom” for good measure, and, for “bass”, an improvised wooden box, “caixa de ressonância.” We were nicknamed “night birds” or “night workers” (not in the pejorative sense, of course!). At 10 pm, we would gather in one of the cement benches in Panjim, by the banks of the quietly-flowing Mandovi; quickly practised new hits, brushed through old songs. “Rua sem Luz” (Road without Lights) was a favourite, perhaps because most roads in those days were without lights! Eloy Gomes was our leader, a genial guitarist, a legend in his own lifetime. (He was bent in adding the prefix “Doutor” to his name but, music was his passion). Latin and Portuguese tunes were his “forte”. Caçula, Amorada, Baião Delicado, he played with dexterity. He was the envy of all, even accomplished professionals who came from overseas! Then there was Dr Rod, the immortal percussionist, the quintessential musician, the artist par excellence. In those days, we mostly “plucked” our guitars: while the thumb etched the “bordão”, the other fingers, in quick succession, chiseled out the weirdest of rhythms: samba, rumba, bolero (bossanova made its debut later).
Our battle-ground was the girls’ hostel, “Instituto de Nossa Senhora de Piedade “- our first and last destination, on week-days. As the first chords were struck (in the dead of the night) the lights came on; the girls flocked on the verandah with shouts of encore. Non-stop lilting music flowed, which came to an end, only when a stern Dona Guiomar, the disciplinarian Director (unable to control the girls’ exuberance) would summon the police as a deterrent to our over-enthusiasm. Most of us were then medical students. Great names graced at different times our “Tuna Académica” - the Flores brothers (the late Dr Jorge and Victor) - and even Noel Flores (later Professor Catedrático of the Music Conservatory in Viena). I also fondly remember late Dr Raul Peres, my brother-in-law, and unforgettable Pandit (now a retired urologist in the USA).
On week-ends, we had a longer itinerary. Moving in the spacious Dr Fernando Mascarenhas’ coffin-shaped van we went all around Panjim, and even made forays into Vasco, Margão and Mapuçá. Jéjé Velho, with his mellifluous vocals, was with us and, if luck was good, the golden-voiced, Arch. Lúcio Miranda (the best “serenata” singer of all times) would also join. Wherever we went, house-doors, fridges, home-bars, kitchens were thrown open and we had fun all night.
It was through constant serenading, I must confess, that I ended up conquering my wife. She was beautiful and had many admirers. We were both shy, but it was through music that the right chord was struck. We have now been married for years and, there have been good and sad times too.
One of my best days, I remember, came when I stood first in MD Medicine, in the Bombay University, in 1972, and dedicated my triumph to my beloved wife (as a reward for the umpteen sacrifices she had made to see me through). There were other glorious days too, like the day when each of our three petals (one lovely boy, Melvin, and two beautiful girls, Elaine and Anabelle) were born. But, beyond doubt, the saddest day of all, our own 9/11, came when we tragically lost our loving son, in the prime of life.
As I think back, hidden in the secret recesses of my heart and my mind, there are times I would have liked to see totally obliterated; luckily, there are also days that bring in happy reminiscences. The days of “Serenata” - to be precise - figure amongst the most memorable in my life, because they taught me what love is all about. Especially, that sublime form of love, that finds its expression only through the magic of music!
(Dr. Francisco Colaço is a seniormost consulting physician, pioneer of Echocardiography in Goa)
