This was straight of some of the old
notebooks on which vignettes of so many journeys across the vast “north” are
scribbles. This was a chip off an old block journey, since Vagator, Anjuna,
Little Vagator and Chapora have been edged out of the road journeys because of
the changes which have enveloped these hitherto spots of paradise. These
beaches in Goa, were, once upon a time the real deal, the vortex of the Goa
dream, the pit stop for hippies. This was Goa then. It’s the anti thesis of Goa
now.
However, when there is no charm
offensive oozing out places you’ve loved, there are always spots like a nook in
the house, a corner you curl up in, a chair in the kitchen you sit and read
while the aroma of home cooking wafts in, Little Vagator, Vagator, Anjuna and
Chapora are not just full of these but the new places mushrooming here.
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This journey was done the old way. No
fuss, no announcements, no friends, just me and my Goa, wafting through Nerul,
Saipem (tucked between Nerul and Candolim, now home as much to the Kapoors,
Khannas and Singhs, as to the local Goenkars, in this still sleepy village),
Candolim(which looks like greater Noida) and then to the Arpora, Anjuna and
Little Vagator. Most go through these places at night to party, to dine and
drink. But these are also throbbing local, Goan villages with families who’ve
lived here, in the Goa that once was, and have accepted, albeit reluctantly,
the Goa that now is. The idea was to look beyond the big dining places and look
for the small tucked away ones, run by families or groups, for years. And by
folks with roots in very remote lands who have made India their home.
Kunsh Ang was born outside of her
beloved Tibet. Her father had moved his family from his occupied homeland to
Arunachal Pradesh where he actually joined the Indian army. Little Kunsh was
born and grew up in these mountains, as a local, without even seeing her
motherland. The yellow refugee entry permit is the only document she has had.
However Himachal and Dharamshala soon became a natural port of call as the
Tibetan government in exile was based there, in its new kingdom ruled by his
Holiness, the Dalai Lama. Young Kunsh was soon enrolled in the school run by
his Holiness and came as close to her own homeland as she could in Dharamshala.
It is here that she met her fellow countryman and future life partner Phuntsok.
Phuntsok loved cooking and when they officially became a couple, they decided
to move to Manali and open a Tibetan restaurant which soon became a hit.
Their story then took a Goa turn. Many
tourists who make both Manali and Goa their destinations depending on the time
of the year began to eat regularly at Phuntsok and Kunsh’s restaurant till one
of them, a restaurant owner himself, popped the question. Would they spend the
winter months in Goa? The year- 2002.
The Tibetan couple moved to Goa for the
first time that year and started what quickly became known as a full-fledged
Tibetan restaurant called Moonlight, at the last bend on the Little Vagator
restaurant stretch which starts with Thalassa. Of course when Phuntsok and
Kunsh Ang came here, it was just them, the sea and the hippies. The world has
changed. The Twin Towers are no more, Mumbai (26/11) happened. The London and
Madrid bombings happened. And in Goa, the Russians happened. The couple lived
through all these changes, doing what they did best, make real Tibetan food,
The restaurant isn’t fancy, but it’s
like home. Easy comfort with ordinary chairs and tables, some low seating with
cushions and with the Tibetan couple and their chefs sitting down to eat their lunch along with
their guests. The hungry traveler writing this quickly brought Tibet to the
table. Fried dumplings with stuffed chicken and beef , Fingsha – transparent flat
noodles, than thuk -fresh pasta on the spot, (Italians please note) and loads
of momos with home-made spicy sauce. Kunsh insists that they don’t own but work
there with their team. But it is Team Kunsh that lends the charm to Moonlight,
making it as Goan as it is Tibetan.
And this is something which Vagator,
Chapora and Anjuna still retains. Excellent chefs from all over the world,
setting up restaurants and living here, some for good and some during the
winters. But who would have thought that a girl whose father fled from Tibet
and served the Indian army, and with Manali as home now, would serve Tibetan
food in Goa for six months a year for the last 13 years.
