LUIS DIAS
Isn’t life funny? On the one hand, there is a mass exodus out of Goa, as Goans from all so cial strata seek greener pastures elsewhere, using the Portuguese passport or other avenues, largely because Goans don’t feel valued here, or life has be come too unbearable com pared to their lived memo ry of a Goa that was. But on the other hand, there is a massive influx into Goa. Goa has become like a revolving door. Per haps that’s how it always was. And perhaps Goa is not necessarily unique in this respect either, al though Goa chest-thump ers think Goa is unique at everything. The poor, small liveli hood-driven ‘migrants’, vilified as ‘ghanti’ quickly adapt, learning out of ne cessity to speak Konka ni far more fluently than many affluent privileged Goans who trumpet their ‘Goan’-ness and wax el oquent about it at every opportunity. If the low-in come migrants don’t feel they ‘belong,’ so far it hasn’t reached public discourse in a noticeable form. Quite a few of the more affluent crop who have arrived here (to escape the rest of In dia’s urban sprawl, the bumper-to-bumper kilo metre-long and hour-long traffic jams and gridlock, and non-existent air qual ity) however get quite stri dent about not being made more welcome, about being made to feel like an “outsider.” Two years ago, I wrote a column in this newspa per in reaction to an arti cle in the national press (“Goa: More welcoming to tourists than to ‘new’ residents?”). That writer was unable to “find her tribe” in Goa, whatever that means, but was nev ertheless “happy to be an outsider looking in.” But she had the luxury of an opt-out, going back to be ing an “insider” where she came from. For so many Goans, this is our “inside, outside and everywhere in between.” For better or worse, this is home. The identity imbroglio in Goa will probably never be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction, judging by the way the issue keeps resur facing again and again. Part of the confusion lies with the label, wanting to be “Goan.” At root is the confusion between State and city. Goa is a State, India’s tiniest, but is often spoken of erroneously as if it were a city. So Bryan Adams’s India itinerary in cluded “Kolkata, Shillong, Gurugram, Mumbai, Ben galuru, Hyderabad and… Goa.” To elaborate further: a Goan may have lived in Bombay/Mumbai for decades and so may his/ her forebears, but while they may be Bombayites or Mumbaikars, they are still Goan, not Maharash trian. A Goan or Keralite may have lived forever in Calcutta/Kolkata, and may consider themselves Calcuttans/Kolkatkars, but they are not Bengali. This is not considered xen ophobic, but umbrage is taken by some non-Goans who have lived in Goa for ‘x’ period of time, but are not bestowed the ‘Goan’ label. My friend Kaustubh Naik wrote a piece last month “How to Belong in Goa (and other crises of Aldona Filmmakers)” in reaction to a crowdfund ing appeal for a film whose makers “felt like outsiders in Goa”, that they “strug gled to belong, that there were small, daily remind ers that they did not fit in.” Naik’s riposte is well worth a careful read, and is summed up in his last paragraph: “When I hear someone say they “do not feel at home in Goa,” I can only think: even Goans no longer feel at home. The entire state is being re shaped to serve a class of people who have the time, money, and luxury to seek belonging at the expense of those who have always belonged here.” His piece seems to have touched a nerve, as there was a response a few weeks late, again in the national press (“City and I | Who belongs in Goa? This is the wrong question to ask”). Both writers from their columns seem to have fall en in love more with the backdrop (“the greenery, the sea and the sand un der my toes help me feel centred”) than with “the people” they encountered. One of them mentions by name only those from her “tribe” but “the carpen ter”, “fridge mechanic” are nameless, faceless. Kaustubh Naik followed up with another piece earlier this month “Being (Goa) based.” He pulls no punches, indicating that “Ultimately, the “Goa based” adjective is a class signifier. It allows the in dividual to appropriate the cultural cachet of Goa (relaxed, creative and ar tistic) without engaging with the civic or econom ic grit of the State. If this lifestyle crumbles, these professionals will simply retreat to their cities (dare I say, the places to which they actually belong?) or move elsewhere. True “be longing” involves being stuck with the inconven ient parts of a place. But why bother when you can convert that ache into your next vanity project?” I would add that even rudimentary homework isn’t done by some “Goa based” curators of ‘Goan’ exhibitions and festivals. I know this first-hand when my late mother Dr Elvira Dias’s very name was man gled at an exhibition, at an arts centre in Panjim quite recently, and I wasn’t even extended the courtesy of being invited to the event, although my “Goa-based” non-Goan friends were. One of the articles I re ferred to mentions locals only to condemn them for being part of the problem, ignoring so many local ac tivist groups (comprising Goans and former “set tlers” who’ve made com mon cause with us instead of whining in print) that try to address the very problems she highlights. She talks of “silos of hate”, when so many settlers themselves live in self-con tained silos or bubbles. Goa does have its myr iad problems. But to pre tend that burdening our tiny state’s carrying capac ity even further isn’t com pounding our problems is to live in denial. (Dr Luis Dias is a phy sician, musician, writer and founder of Child’s Play India Foundation. He blogs at luisdias. wordpress.com
