He greeted us with a smile and warmth which comes in an
incessant assembly line from the people of the North East. It just seemed a
little out of place, as Luku Laksar stood on the balcao of an old Portuguese home in tucked away Divar, and welcomed
us in the homestay he manages for the
Bostocks.
We were on one of our new increasingly erratic and
inconsistent wanderings around Goa and happened to be at the Divar Guest House
retreat, also the home of Jan and Arti Bostock and their entourage of children,
Junior the dog, Gizmo the cat (heard about but not met) and assorted creatures
of the wild who live in their beautifully restored colonial Portuguese mansion.
But it was Luku who played host, who quipped when we asked for a chilled glass
of water - “We serve only beer here”.
Divar will always be a chip off the old block, a block of
memories, friendship and above all the acquisition of the spirit of Goa, through
my first Bonderams, (and now we are in the middle of my 12th Bonderam
fortnight). This is where early friends were made and preserved, the finest feni was consumed and the meeting of
minds and hearts happened. Truly Bonderam and Divar kick-started my journey
that now runs on auto pilot.
Back to the Bostocks... A long chat with Jan and Aarti
eluded us that afternoon. We were on adjoining tables at Jinni’s bar right next
to the annual, ritual and festivities of the ‘fishing competition’ organised by
the local folks of Old Goa on Independence day, more of which shall be revealed
as we go along. As we were leaving, Jan asked if we were heading to Divar by
any chance and since indeed we were, he packed off his mom Jean and his two
lovely children Anya and Alisha (one of whom has done a bit role in Finding
Fanny and the little missy is also a mini model) with us, since the Bostock
couple would be home much later.
So we were in a car driving to Divar, in which the Bostock
kids and Jean their grandmother, ( who hails from near Yorkshire) were actually
going home, while my two other guests, journalist buddies from Delhi, sat as
tourists, wide eyed soaking in the expanse and the grandeur of the Mandovi, the
ferry ride across the river and the vast expanse of the fields of Divar, as you
got off the boat. Twelve years ago, yours truly was as awestruck, perhaps on
the very same ferry, looking into same expanse of the fields ahead, the
churches beyond, the river over yonder, with just one ask “What took me so long
to be here?”
The Bostock home and their homestay is on the Piedade side
of the island where each home is a brick on a gorgeous natural canvas wall.
Restored by the Bostocks, life in the homestay revolves around the rear portico
with the following sights. Sight 1: Luku Laksar at the bar, chatting away to
glory with his deck of cards which he uses to conjure and showcase one card
trick after another leaving his guests completely gobsmacked. He does fix
drinks and pour some rum and coke for himself, his standard tipple. Sight 2:
Jan’s mom Jean on her favourite round table playing what seemed like an online
bridge game, where she connects with other players. Sight 3: The antics of the
favourite child of the family- Junior the dog, who divides his time chasing all
the sundry, throwing his weight around and easily falling off to sleep as one
of Aarti and Jan’s daughters plonk themselves next to him. With so many
characters in the house, you may at times miss the charm of the rooms, the
gardens and the greenery. This is the Goa which remains, the last bits of a
gourmet feast of Goan life, many a time preserved by those not born of this
land, like the Bostock’s....
....And yet many a
time by very proud Goans, who fight fiercely to hang on to their traditions and
their roots. And that’s where we were, at the Jinni’s Bar where we met the
Bostocks but left the story and the people at Old Goa to come to Divar. For
years now, the villagers of Ribandar /Old Goa have been fiercely fighting for
their fisher folk and to preserve traditional occupations. And out of this
sense of togetherness was born the idea of the annual fishing competition where
locals and others are invited to come with their fishing rods and fish on the
banks of the river, opposite the old Goa Institute of Management building. So
there’s fishing, merriment, live music galore, and the piece de resistance,
aunty’s fish curry and rice, and as they say all things nice, served from the
makeshift food stall. To Michael Fernandes, one of the pioneers of this great
Independence Day tradition, and to all the people of Ribandar who make this
happen, we doff our hats.
And the proceeds and the small profit from this go towards
paying the insurance premiums to protect fishermen who are injured at sea or
their families in case any tragedy befalls them. If examples of selfless
peoples connect, with no fuss, agenda or political motives are needed, the
people of Ribandar including illustrious sons of the village deserve all the
kudos they get.
Goenkarpon may not have a precise definition, but on that Independence day afternoon, the feeling of goenkarpon erupted in a beautiful riot of voices, food, music and mirth.