Some plan their annual arrivals from out of town and country, to ensure
that they get in here by the night of the 22nd, or not later than
breakfast time on December 23; some take leave of absence from work.
Thankfully, the schools are shut by then. Some, who have hordes of relatives
visiting them, politely indicate that it’ll be nice if they arrive on the 24th,
and not a day earlier.
So what is it really about Dec 23rd for many of us, joined in bonding and spirit about an institution of
revelry and warmth? It’s our day of Christmas, our New Year and our Annual
General Meeting (AGM), of journeymen who come home to Cavala.
The resort, bar, and a place for music and friendship, has been toasted
and celebrated in more ways than one can imagine in these columns over the last
decade. But there’s no tiredness, only reiteration. And the annual congregation
of catching up with the simple unadulterated and agenda-less way of life, is a
tradition that Marius of Cavala, seamlessly keeps; with a regimen that would do
a General proud. It is his lovely way of meeting his friends, all Cavala
regulars. And it is his party, complete with suckling pig, plenty of small eats
and a shower of cocktails of all kinds. But it is the conversations, the
meetings, the reunions (some after decades), which is the real deal on the
menu. December 23 at Cavala (actually Banana Republic- which is an extension of
Cavala across the street on the Baga road), is indeed a big deal in the lives of
some of us
The usual suspects were all there. The never aging Abhijeet Almeida,
with his Yul Brynner look and his cowboy hat; the gracious Karen Roach, in a
Bengali saree; Chand, a one time and perhaps still spiritual buddy, looking
slim, mean and super fit; Satya, the architect who has entered into
the art space; and then of course Professor Gomes, now a principal of a
school in Ooty, who leaves everything to be back in Goa ‘latest by 23rd breakfast time’, with his wife who is now ready to hit the road,
visiting her daughters in Sri Lanka and England, but as she says, “will always
be seen on this bar stool on December 23rd. Some missing in
action, like the two Music Company boys, Alex Braganza and Nini D Souza were
very much in the house, reminiscing perhaps, how they kept this place alive for
years.
And then in between chats and jiving, a buddy’s mom, who is a senior
buddy, says “Meet Indrani, who is a fantastic cook.” And you chat with Indrani,
and on hearing your name she asks “Didn’t you go to school in Asansol, and
wasn’t your dad in this organisation?” And before you could recover from the
shock, she turns to her husband to say, “He was seven when I last saw him, and
he was at our wedding.” So we met after close to forty odd years, both of us
not aware of each other’s presence, and get a whiff of the past in the lovely
reality of Cavala.
December 23 here is also a way of connecting to a side of Goa, which
some of do not quite experience. Between the music, and the cocktails and the
chunks of pork carvings (especially the burnt edges), you hear stories that
warm the cockles of your heart…stories that connect you to the reasons why many
of us have chosen Goa as our home. Satya and his family are the only ‘non –
Goan’ ones in that neck of the woods in Aldona (i.e. in that that ward or
neighbourhood). And in the seven odd years they have lived there, they have not
felt more at home in the heart of Aldona, than anywhere else in the country, a
village which has accepted them and their children as their own. When Satya’s
little boy steps on the village road and walks up to the fields, there are many
pairs of eyes keeping a watch to ensure he is safe, and if required, calls are
made. And then to reiterate their Aldona connect, Satya says “Imagine, even Our
Lady comes home.”
As the years go by, conversations at Cavala on December 23, for the
regulars, get progressively mellower. With age, we reflect and say quiet thank
yous for the friendships and also for the experiences each of us have in Goa,
which we love sharing. And this goes for true blue born and bred Goans, as much
as those whom Goa has graciously accepted.
And by the way, here at Cavala on December 23, no one takes selfies or
endless pictures, and very few rush to post on Facebook (with some not so notable
exceptions); because this isn’t about telling the world where you are, but
telling yourself to count such blessings.
