Rules of engagement
OSCAR REBELLO
The language ‘Narkasur’ has raised its ugly head yet again, on the eve of the Festival of Lights. (Alas, if only we could be enlightened!)
It is dismaying and disheartening to see otherwise perfectly decent and honourable men and women of Goa abusing and cursing one another in full public glare, funnily enough in perfectly spoken Konkani (whatever the script).
When a miniscule population of a minuscule state with a minuscule amount of land left for posterity cannot find mutually acceptable definitions of what constitutes our identity, heritage and language, it is no wonder that we find ourselves on the brink of being declared an endangered species, soon to become some curious museum pieces of history.
Whatever be the merits and demerits of the complex script and language issue that has dogged us for over a quarter of a century, there must be a few non-negotiable positions in the minds and hearts of all our charged up language warriors.
Have a war (of words) by all means, but you can use only conventional weapons of dialogue and debate, no chemical weapons of gutter abuse, vitriol and personal attacks. So, let’s keep these as the rules of engagement:
1. There must be genuine and abiding respect for Devnagiri Konkani, Romi Konkanni and Marathi. No genuine literary figure can be repelled or hate a language or script. It is akin to Wagner despising Jewish music.
Literature, any literature, is about uplifting the soul, not destroying it.
What would our desolate, empty lives be without the scintillating works of a Pundalik Naik, or a Manoharrai Sardessai or a Tomazinho Cardozo or a Pula Deshpande? How much poorer would we be without the glorious entertainment of a tiatr or a natak? How less blessed would we be if we couldn’t invoke all our gods in the language or script of our choice?
Respect for one another is non-negotiable and paramount. Everything else can wait.
2. Scratch the surface and peer into the heart of every Goan and you will find written in bold letters the language of Konkani. We may love Marathi or Hindi, English or Portuguese but we are Konkani. And what you are can never be taken away from you.
3. Those that inflict maximum damage on our dear blighted land are those that are eerily silent, slippery and snake-like. They hardly say anything, but dig, build, plunder and destroy. From our illegal and unrepentant miners and real estate sharks; from our funny money operators in the casino, drug and sex industry to many of our polluted politicians. The more we squabble amongst ourselves, the bigger their profits.
4. The language and script controversy must never be allowed to degenerate into a caste or sectarian battle, whatever the level of hurt and grievance of any party. It does no good to the social fabric and the future of Goa.
5. The Government (and apparently the opposition) have taken a position that the official language Act of ‘87 will not be touched. Fair enough. Why open a can of worms to infest and crawl unwelcomingly in our so far peaceful lives? But political leaders must act as healers and facilitators to a negotiated settlement between all warring groups. They must refrain from fishing in troubled waters and reopening old wounds.
This is easier said than done since positions are so entrenched and intransigent. But the simple rule of the game should be that no language (Konkani or Marathi) and no script (Devnagiri or Romi) will be allowed to triumph over the murder and demise of another. A bed of roses, sitting on a graveyard, is not always a pretty sight.
Goa will be destroyed not by the malice of those from the outside (or inside) who see her beauty as an object to be sold to the highest bidder, but rather by the age old prejudices, rancour and lack of goodwill amongst ourselves. We need to heal ourselves first before even tempting to heal this tragic paradise we call Goa.
It would be wise to remember that when Goa becomes a cacophonic, morally depraved, environmentally devastated garbage dump, our voices will be so feeble and irrelevant that even the birds and the pigs will not lend us a ear, leave alone read our scripts. Our choice is clear. We either walk hand in hand on a path of peace or continue to trip one another on the highway to hell.
Postscript: I recall an elderly couple who were my patients. She was blind, deaf, mute and a Gujarati Hindu. He was a Parsi, deaf and could speak a few halting words. When she had an ailment she used to touch his hand in a sign language difficult to decipher but which he would translate for me, slowly using just the key words.
I then used to ask further questions and give my prescription or instructions to her in writing. He would read it and the whole exercise of touching her hand in sign language would repeat itself, and she would nod once she understood everything.
It was so fascinating, this communication between two human beings.
Once, on a piece of paper I wrote: Mr. Mistry, what do you call this language of yours?
With a gleam in his eye he mouthed just one magical word: Love.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case.
