The kingfisher swooped down from the leafy thicket blending into the backdrop of green and perched itself on the wooden ledge overlooking the sloped hillside, of this jaw-dropping landscape.
This is a little valley, totally draped with trees with a carpet bombing of greenery beyond imagination, even by Goa’s standards. Bird sounds, resonate and get dwarfed only when the rain pours on the trees. It’s a mini jungle all right. Like a curtain which filters the insides from the world outside, the jungle is the backdrop to one of the most fascinating little cafes in Goa. Hidden, nestled, quiet and splendid. It’s called Mojigao
The affable woman who runs it and pleaded not to be named, though regulars all know her, came to Goa on a holiday, from Munich 15 years ago. She settled in Vagator and has seen it all. The transformation of Goa, the transition of Goa from the pristine getaway to the what she finds is a pitiable storm of “development”, the tourist truckloads, the plunder of the hills and beaches and yes, the fear and unease that actually stalks many women, who live in this belt for long periods.
There are so many incidents she says, of girls being followed on bikes and cars. In one instance a window pane was smashed and they tried to drag her out, and then the infamous case of the young lady who took on her attacker and defended herself by hitting him back, all resonate with shock in these areas.
We sit in her café, watching the rain and the Kingfisher and realise that the gorgeousness around us is no longer the mainstream. It’s the alternate. And places like Siolim, Morjim, Assagao, parts of Anjuna, lend itself to the list of places, people, ideas and a life which is alternate to what’s happening in Goa, and more linked to the Goa that once was.
The seamier side of Goa does caress this landscape and we all know it, But somehow the vibrancy of the people, the initiatives that they bring, the causes they espouse and the above all the gush of creativity and entrepreneurship spirit seen in the cafes, lifestyle stores, homes and the pulse that throbs here offsets it.
Here you get slices of the eclectic alternate. Of lives being led with a different wind beneath their wings, souls who do their own thing, non judgmental, still forcing communities, if not of kindred souls, but of those who are imbibing the effervescence of Goa. No, it’s not hedonistic, or wild or way out. Scratch the surface, it’s a community more at ease with itself.
The assistant director of ad films is now opening an out of the box clothes store, the very beautiful Parisian who learnt yoga and came to the land where it was born, the DJ who cooks up a storm and runs a café, the self taught piano player who loves to make and play music living in one of the splendid old homes with big open spaces and nooks to work in, or the writer and artist who speaks so much about her life, her body and her feelings as she connects every pore of her being with her artistic creations.
And it’s here that a play is being written, a book too, poetry is being composed and a film is being made. At times Goa is the reason for the script, at other times Goa is the inspiration to write the script.
Sitting last week literally at the base of a green mountain, in this forested café, the contrast between the two or many Goa’s couldn’t have been clearer. And it’s fascinating how different universes exist within 5 minutes of each other. In the mind space, they are very very far. From the depths of the winding road and the cottages of Assagao, and Anjuna or even Siolim, Mapusa is anywhere between 5 to 20 mins away. The landscape changes drastically. The homes are different, the lingo is a contrast, the eclectic visitors or those who live here 8 months a year, fade to be replaced by families in Mapusa, entrenched for generations.
The narrative of life and living takes on different meanings five to ten minutes from each other. In the towns of old, the re-establishment of structure and routine, otherwise called ordinary-ness is reiterated. In the other world, there are those in their cocoon of contentment, giving expression to their lives through their creativity, art or even in the quiet of their nooks at home immersed in books they love to read. But the lines between the artist and her art, the poet and his poetry or even the chef and his creation, or the music and the musician blur. Actually, they are the same. And this is why the narratives from Anjuna, Assagao , Morjim, Siolim, boxed into cliches of the wild north, where dope is the deliverance and there’s hedonism on the highway, need to be more nuanced and perhaps much more realistic.
And while the structured Goa of routine and sameness may never realise this, these places are actually bringing in those who want to set up base and home, build lives and friendships, and keep the draw of Goa very much alive. This is so removed from the so called magnets of tourism officially planned and sold. And just as well. While there are structured Goa plans to make Goa attractive, the chemistry of people removed from the rat race of tourism are actually bringing real folks in love with the land, to be here.
