A bureaucrat’s tribute to Eduardbab
Eduardo Faleiro has always worked for Goans’ interests says ARAVIND BHATIKAR
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Eduardo Faleiro is 70. So what? I was also 70 two years ago. But there is a difference. I went south from Margao to Madras, (now Chennai) and he went north from Raia to Rajdhani. But, we have something in common too. Both of us love Raia. He, because that is where he was born. I, because that was where I used to go walking from Aquem-Margao to the so called Indo-Portuguese style bungalow of Kuvelkars, opposite the Raia Santemol junction.
We met in Delhi in 1986. I don’t remember having met him anytime before that. Barring two brief periods in ‘58 and ‘63, I was away from Goa either learning or earning. Long before I met him, I had a very busy and frustrating time teaching my friends and colleagues, in Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and other states, how to pronounce the name Faleiro. For some unknown reason, they used to call him ‘Falerio’. Not that it mattered to them or to me, but I remember having got angry many a time while correcting their pronunciation. Later, I gave up in frustration and also gave up being frustrated. I am sure, Eduardbab too must forgotten how to get frustrated at any Tom, Dick and Harry in Delhi usurping the right of changing his family name. My frustration later increased a thousand times when I had to teach Goan youngsters how to pronounce Raia. It was only when Aishwarya Rai popped up on the world stage as Miss World, that they understood that Raia was to be pronounced as Rai as in Aishwarya Rai.
Meeting Ministers in Delhi in their sprawling residential bungalows is never be a pleasant experience. There is first a small room at the entrance of the outside room which is outside an inner room which leads to the inner hall outside the main hall leading to the sanctum sanctorum.
The speed at which you reach the Minister, depends on your proximity to the Minister as perceived by the omnipotent peons and PAs floating around. The size and shape of the crockery and the quality of tea offered to you could depend on your assigned distance from the sanctum sanctorum.
So, when I went to see Eduardo Faleiro for the first time, just to say hi to him and talk about Raia, my ego was unexpectedly flattered. I was ushered in straight to the sanctum sanctorum and served light Earl-Grey tea in a Hitkari bone china cup. I had no problem in waiting for a good ten minutes before Eduardbab appeared on the scene through one of the umpteen doors into the hall.
‘Kitem re baba, keso ahai tum?’ He asked me in chaste Konkani, before I even stood up and did the customary ‘sir’ing.
It is not often that a Goan politician can become a Central Minister and it is still less often a Central Minister from Goa is warm and personal. Wasn’t I thrilled to hear him speak Konkani and elated that he continued in Konkani instead of jumping over to English, as all good Goans do?
Inspite of the need to keep the customary behavioural distance, between a bureaucrat and a Minister, I felt emotionally close to him. I told him I had no official work and that it was just a courtesy call.
Eduardbab was a Minister of State in various Departments of the Government of India, for a period of ten years. He always tried to do something for Goans, in all departments he handled. The success of Government of India in getting back Goans’ gold stuck in the vaults of Banco Nacional Ultramarino in Portugal was in no small measure due to Eduardbab’s efforts.
He tried to bring the Indian banking sector to Goan villages and exhorted Goans to start more trade and industry with the help of nationalized banks.
There was another Minister at the Centre before Eduardbab who held ‘Loan Melas’ in south India and publicly encouraged beneficiaries not to repay bank loans because it was a case of people’s money going back to people. Goans expected Eduardbab to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor, but Eduardbab saddened their hearts by reminding them that loans have to be repaid as per schedule.
He was the one solely responsible to bring home to Konkani language the Central Government project for preparation of corpora of Konkani words as a first step towards automatic electronic translation from one Indian language to another. This was done by him when he was Minister of State for Electronics. He chose the Asmitai Pratishthan, Margao to implement the project.
He got the Labour and Employment Department of Government of India to organize frequent exhibitions in Goa on career options and self-employment schemes for youngsters. I am sure many Goans seek his help in various matters even today. Despite the fact that he doesn’t need a vote-bank today, he always extends a helping hand to the needy. Recently, I had an occasion to meet a Schedule Tribe woman who told me how Eduardbab had helped her physically challenged daughter to receive the best possible medical treatment in Goa and outside for a serious illness.
In today’s world, politics is synonymous with corruption. Eduardbab was a Central Minister off and on for about ten years, between 1986 and 1996. There had never been any allegation publicly made against him about corruption, nepotism or favouritism. At no point of time, have there been any sly insinuations that he had ‘fixed’ his near and dear ones in important positions in banks and other public sector undertakings.
Eduardbab now lives in his native village Raia. Like all seniors, he also seems to have become irrelevant in today’s age of selfish politics. Let us hope, he reactivates himself to improve the quality of politics and governance in Goa.
We wish him a long and healthy life in the service of society.
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Joy of doing your own work
Auriel Ribeiro Sa
A friend of mine who migrated to Australia some years ago sent me a family video. Having great reverence for the Blessed Mother, she had promised to build a grotto in the grounds of the house they desired to buy. So when they did indeed strike a good deal, she made good her promise.
Now, we all know that in a country like Australia, hired help comes at an astronomical price. So they were left with the option of doing it themselves. Having no expertise in the matter, they turned to a neighbour for help. He volunteered to do it himself since he had built his own grotto many years ago. And so my friend and her family learnt how build their grotto from scratch, something they may never have learned back here in India.
We Indians are a pampered lot, especially those who are privileged to have, at our beck and call, maids, masons, repairmen, in short, the semi-skilled jack-of-all-trades, for a reasonably small price. It just doesn’t suit our personality to get down to doing the job ourselves. I recall admiring the sparkling clean car of my neighbour and congratulating him on a good job to which he replied with disdain, “Oh, I never clean my car. My driver does that. I don’t have the time.”
I learned to my dismay, some days ago, that my body gets arthritis when it comes to sweeping and swabbing, a chore my maid accomplishes with amazing ease. I get the sniffles after washing a sink of dirty dishes.
Oh, how dependent we are on those who are dependent on us! Later I found out that my husband does not know how to drill holes in the wall and I had to rely on Francis, our electric repairs expert to handle that seemingly simple chore for me.
For a stay-at-home mom of four, you would think I should know how to cook, sew, cut hair, but alas, we don’t do these things any longer in India, do we? We have cooks, barbers and designer shops at malls to pander to our every whim and fancy. When are we ever going to wake up and do it ourselves? I would surely like to see my man tote a machine drill for once or wield a sturdy saw. I should be whiling away my precious time learning how to make that perfect cake for my son’s birthday instead of ordering one from a reputed cake shop around the corner. And I ought to be pedalling away at a Fashion-maker instead of running down to Mustafa’s in Mapusa.
The other day I got myself a can of blackboard paint and cajoled my husband into painting us a blackboard on the wall for the kids. We all stood by cheering him on and, for the first time, I saw muscles ripple and satisfied smiles all around when it was done.
We really need to get back to doing our own chores in the home instead of depending on the experts or Jack-of-all-trades and letting them steal our bread from right under our noses.
The joy of seeing a job completed could sometimes surpass the ecstasy of Michaelangelo even if it were an agony at first, I dare say. I, for one take great pride in driving around in the family van after my man has given it the shine of a lifetime. My daughter’s haircut may not be in vogue but it’s not so bad either; I promise to improve with time! The cake I baked today is a lot better than the one I baked last week; that one was rightly termed by my husband as a F-L-O-P.
And so my fellow Indians, wake up, shake off your lethargic lifestyles and get cracking. Just imagine what you would do if you migrated to America or Australia, and then ‘just do it’.
