The difference between, say, fatcats with their illgotten gains and dormice. Not for those oldtimers the foreign junkets, roadtamashas, multi-star hotel and spa pampering with unlimited expense accounts that so bleeds the public exchequer, the behaviour akin to Marie Antoinette’s haughty proclamation
to ‘let them eat cake ’. May I remind one and all that the recent foreign jaunt by Parulekar & Co drained the state government of a whopping Rs 13.5 crore, (OHeraldO, July 23). I know what I am talking about very well, having witnessed firsthand the dizzy, spiralling waste in providing logistics to junketing politicians now and in those days. In that era gone by, besides the rajah-log of Sattari, Pernem and the bhatkars of Salcete, the run-of-the-mill MLAs like J M de Sousa, J L J Araujo, Enio Pimenta and many of the other thirty, had to manage on just the Rs 250 remuneration per month and some meagre daily allowance when the House was in session. They had no personal means or vast fortunes at their disposal. Among their “major” perks was the rupee one a day accommodation at the Circuit House, free ferryboat passes and visiting cards. When Erasmo de Sequeira was sent to represent India at an inter-parliamentary conference in Peru, South America,
if I am not mistaken, as a first
time Member of Parliament, around
1965, he was provided economy class
passage. After a dazzling performance,
much lauded in the pan-American
press, he returned to a spontaneous
public reception at Dabolim.
We teased him over his jetset gallivanting,
but he corrected us. “I
booked economy class,” he revealed.
“However, the purser having known
me and my circumstances on my earlier
travels and with seats in the Maharajah
class being unoccupied, insisted
on upgrading me.” That was
not rare in those days. I too enjoyed
that luxury on more than one occasion
during my decades of travel.
Eduardo Faleiro, also on a maiden
parliamentary trip to Lisbon to represent
India at a meeting of global
democratic parliamentarians in
1975, travelled economy and stayed
not at Lisbon’s premier Hotel
Avenida Palacio, but the more modest
and relatively informal Sheraton
Lisboa. Later, on his late wife
Muriel’s insistence and long overdue
a vacation, he rerouted his ticket via
Sweden at no extra cost and spent a
few pleasant days with me at my
modest apartment in downtown
Stockholm.
So did Dr Wilfred de Sousa, on at
least three occasions, under very similar
circumstances, and every time
without extra rerouting costs. I remember
one time Willie turned up
in Stockholm on his way back from
representing India at a Friends of
Palestine conference hosted by
Yasser Arafat in Ramallah. This time
he had two Indian MPs, fellow Arafat
invitees, in tow, one of them being an
Indian hotel tycoon, Mr Sharma. Believe
me, through the courtesy of the
magnate, normal between hoteliers,
the three had accommodation at
their disposal on the house at Stockholm’s
choicest hotels, including the
very grand Grand Hotel, the abode of
visiting royalty, Nobel laureates and
such dignitaries. But all three desired
to camp with me, Willie taking the
same bed earlier suffered by Eduardo
and the hotelier and the other MP
dossing down on my children’s sleeping
bags. (There would be a more
generous reciprocal gesture to this
ultra-meagre hospitality, but that is
another story).
Sipping champagne at breakfast
the next morning, the illustrious
magnate expressed heartily: “Alfred,
I have not enjoyed such a lovely night
in a very long time.” Of sleep there
was not very much that night, I can
assure you, as my lovable dog Bilbo
had kept him close company
throughout his slumbers, as was his
cherished wont with welcome visitors.
The Indian Ambassador to Sweden,
H E Sahai Singh arrived early
next morning, and we parted company.
Today’s privileged junketeers may
travel and live high and mightily, but
even their higher allowances and
privileges would not be enough to
access such civilized and jovial company.
A footnote:
That celebrated bed has indeed accommodated
many other Goan
celebrities rendering them much deserved,
if fitful, comfort, among them
Mario Miranda, Dom Moraes, Fernando
Colaco, Desiderio da Costa
Frias, Bishop Joe Coutts, Stephen
Pereira, Orlando da Costa to name
but a few that come to memory. If
Goa ever institutes an Smithsonian
entity the cot will be a fitting exhibit.
But did I miss out Fr. Oscar
Quadros and George Fernandes during
his weeks long Bofors-India
weapons mess investigation in the
90s? That humble cot has ungrudgingly
borne the weight of some heavy
issues and heavier personages, but
to this day it still survives as sturdy
as ever.
