Alexandre Moniz Barbosa
Think Carnival and the first image that comes to mind is that of King Momo. He is, today, on every poster or post or reel, advertising the Goa Carnival. But it was not always so. There was a time when Carnival in Goa was not synonymous with King Momo. Take a glance at the 1964 Goa Carnaval postcard of Mario de Miranda pictured alongside, there is, as one can see, no King Momo in it, just people in masks having fun on the streets and a lady on the balcony above drenching the revellers with water or perhaps she is just watering her plants. That is because the first King Momo trundled through the streets of Panjim precisely 60 years ago in 1965.
That story of Timoteo Fernandes, then a young 29 as the first King Momo riding on a bullock cart, to the sounds of music and, from the sidelines, looks of surprise is part of Carnival folklore, repeated often. The stories, as Timoteo recounts even today, his eyes lighting up at the memories, especially of how the entire float cost a mere Rs 5 and that the bullocks drawing the cart were frightened by the loud music and had to be calmed down by the cart owner, bring smiles to the faces of the listeners as they do to Timoteo’s countenance. It was that impromptu Carnival King Momo of 1965 that gave Goa a new manner of celebrating
the festival.
But, when one looks back, was it all that spontaneous, even for that time? King Momo could not have taken Goa by storm if not for the two clubs of Panjim – Clube Nacional and Clube Vasco da Gama – supporting the idea. Though there is no report of the first King Momo parade of 1965 in the pages of O Heraldo, there is an advertisement, reproduced here, of Clube Nacional inviting people to gather on Fat Saturday of 1965 to welcome King Momo.
Interestingly, and perhaps something that today’s readers, not those who lived in the 1960s, would find a little bit surprising, the same advertisement announced that Carnival Sunday’s masquerade ball at Clube Nacional would have the then Lt Governor K R Damle as the guest and that the ball would start at 10pm, the precise hour at which today the music has to stop. Times have indeed changed.
The Panjim clubs distributed the four days of Carnival among themselves so that there would be no overlapping. Advertisements in O Heraldo of 1961 endorse this as while Clube Nacional had programmes on Carnival Sunday and Tuesday, Clube Vasco da Gama hosted Carnival parties on Saturday and Monday, and the latter advertisement clearly mentions a dress code that if not carnivalesque, would have to be formal.
As it is obvious, it was the clubs that dominated the Carnival festivities in Panjim and it can be gathered that the clubs in Margao would be doing the same there. Today, the clubs play a secondary role in the Carnival programmes and the government, through the Tourism Department is the main organiser. But, if in the mid-1960s the government was still to latch on to the possibilities of Carnival as a festival to promote tourism, and it was the clubs that were doing their bit for their members, there were also voices seeking the revival of the Carnival of old and to involve the government in Carnival celebrations.
Yet, what was the Carnival of old? And today, when we hear of similar calls for the Carnival of old, what date are we looking at? It is indeed surprising that six decades back, when King Momo was still a novelty in Carnival, there were people who were already seeking to revive the Carnival of old.
In January 1966, Vasco Alvares, himself one of Goa’s Carnival stalwarts and a long-time president of Clube Nacional that put Carnival on the Goa map, wrote in O Heraldo seeking the revival of the Carnival of old. In brief, here’s what he said, “And speaking of Carnival it is not that of the clubs that should be revived but yes, the Carnival of assaltos, where masked groups in the spirit of fun went singing house to house setting aside enmities, politics; the Carnival of brincospopulares that represent the comic and humouristic art of the people; the Carnival of the Gauda community of Salcete with their ‘romotas’, music that represents joy; the Carnival of fantoches of Fontainhas; the Carnival of suicos of Mapusa; even the Carnival of the battle of the cartuchos de farinha where the people put their all in the fight, seeking to be the winner but the battle was not of blood and enmity, the winner and the loser would embrace and laugh, and finally the Carnival that lives in the spirit of the people.”
Alvares concludes his article calling on the municipalities, tourism office (it was not a department at that time) and other private cultural organisations to revive what is traditional and regional (not just Carnival), ‘within a regionalism that would be accepted as the cultural heritage of the nation’.
The Goa Carnival today is listed as a State festival and the government, via the Tourism Department, the main financier and organiser of the float parade, and the other related celebrations. With government patronage, Carnival’s popularity grew to become one of Goa’s biggest tourism attractions, after of course the beaches, the churches and the temples.
A quick flashback here. After the first King Momo of 1965, a year later in 1966 the bullock cart was replaced by an open jeep and in 1967, the government stepped in forming a committee to organise the parade. Incidentally, in what today would be completely unacceptable and would under no circumstances be allowed, in 1967 a cigarette company distributed cigarette packets to people on Carnival and this was reported in the newspapers. This, perhaps was the beginning of the excesses that led to the abrupt halt of the Carnival float parade in the 1980s, before it was revived with rules and restrictions governing it and grow to what it is today.
So, with money budgeted by the government, six decades from 1965, the King Momo is selected by inviting applications from interested individuals and he does not come on a bullock cart but on top of a vibrantly and colourfully decorated six-wheeler, accompanied by a bevy of young women, live music by a band that is blasted out loud, and an entourage of dancers on the street. All this is followed by a string of floats in different categories, each competing for a prize and showcasing their best talent – artistic, music and dance.
Timoteo Fernandes, Vasco Alvares and the others who spearheaded the Carnival in the 1960s and 1970s could not have envisaged what course the festival would take. Today, Carnival has little of the 1960s, perhaps only the King Momo being the common factor and coincidentally in its 60th year, the King Momo just happens to be a nephew of Goa’s first King Momo.