An unscheduled impulsive visit to the Kesarwal spring brought back sweet memories of the times when mother would tag me along on her annual summer visits to the spring. Taking the rickety old Bedford bus from Cansaulim Market to Verna and then the long forestry track was a joy. “Chol baba chol, pavolim… pavolim…” the motherly ladies would gently coax us along the way whenever we were found wanting in matching their pace.
At long last we would reach our destination and lay camp (spread the bed sheets) under the canopy of the cashew trees. While the women got themselves readied and disappeared down for bath, we children would loiter around to explore the deep wild, unmindful of the ‘sorops’ that elders would mention time and again to keep us in check.
“What the hell are they washing?” we often wondered as we eagerly awaited for them to come and open the ‘‘handi” full of sausage pulao or arros. The coconut chutney mixed so well with local brown rice… ‘chepne tor’ and ‘karo bangdo’ for accompaniment! Afternoon tea would be made right under the cashew trees. Goan delicacies & snacks would go round generously during tea time between groups in warm gestures of bonhomie and camaraderie. Wholesome foods indeed for the road back home or “attea forca” as they called it, because one could never say when the old friendly Bedford would play truant.
The waters that gushed out through hard rocky formations were not only as pure as the elixir of life is meant to be but also strongly believed to have curative properties. We would even get a few bottles back home for drinking – true mineral water of those golden days! The elders would not dare to miss their annual three day ‘pilgrimage’ to the rejuvenating springs least they fall prey to aliments of the joints and skin. The waters of Kesarval were also known to be good for the eyes.
A large group of boisterous migrants in worn-out faded towels going down to the spring with buckets loaded with clothes broke my reverie and got me face to face with the stark reality of today. Neither the spring nor the surrounding wore the sylvan look of the yesteryears. The whole area was strewn with garbage of all kinds and almost stinking. A few shady looking characters were sitting in nooks around, drinking, smoking, conversing on mobiles or just drifting away. Strangely, the fish were still there in the brook and looked pretty well fed too.
South Goa`s natural Spa has gone to the dogs or rather the migrants who now use it for a washing facility and bath cum toilet. The old-age charm and character of Goa is rapidly vanishing. But who will convince our elected so called leaders that protection of our natural treasures is an essential part of development? Governments over the years have treated our environment, heritage and natural treasures with the “don’t give a damn attitude’ obviously because it does not yield the kind of dividends they lust after. For politicians development only means roads, bridges, factories, hotel and more and more big housing projects because that’s where the bucks are!
