To the children of tomorrow, I write this with a heavy heart. You were once heirs to a sun kissed oasis of music, peace and prosperity; Goa! ah, she was the belle of the ball, loved by everyone and her soil was blessed by the selfless works of saints; your ancestors were prudent and God fearing souls, they labored tirelessly to ensure that you would always have lush, green fields to feed you, clean beaches to play on, and enough resources to enjoy life at a unique, unhurried pace. Joy and music were in your DNA, as were art and hospitality, but a few years ago, evil, hateful men took root in this sacred land and sunk their fangs into her delicate neck, masquerading as bringers of change; your ancestors stood by insipidly and watched as they drained her veins of iron ore, forced her into bed with drunks and drug addicts, sold her holy, verdant, life giving soil to the highest bidder.
Goa and her sons were seduced into a drunken lull; the thirst for peace, art and music was superseded by a wanton lust for gratification through drugs and alcohol; eager eyed strangers swarmed in from all corners with no regard for the gentle, sacred land they were infesting; spitting on earth that bears the foot prints of men of God; the sons of Goa were devolving into beasts, blissfully sticking their heads into the sand while their Mecca was being slowly and steadily corrupted beyond repair.
The pristine beaches which had for ages, been shrines of spiritual rejuvenation and divine inspiration, were transformed into landfills; garbage, broken glass and plastic bottles sacrilegiously strewn on dunes that had been lovingly hand crafted by the Creator Himself. Bone dry ravines where once snaked the mighty Mandovi, with her gentle, youthful songs as she happily fed the lands that hugged the coast. Smog, chemical fumes and dust choking the arid, uninhabited sea side ghost towns where happy citizens would once gather en masse to listen to the wind whistle at sunset, and hear the ocean snore at night.
If only your sleepy ancestors had woken up and realized they were guardians of this slice of heaven..if only they had been insightful enough to choose sobriety over drunkenness and being enslaved to other addictions..if only they would remember that a day filled with music and song is worth a thousand filling your coffers with ill gotten goods.. if only they had been wise enough to realize that their complacency would result in the ultimate extinction of the Goan identity.
If only they had been angry enough to do what the French did to their haughty nobles when they tried to cut their life giving coconut trees!
