Over the years I have tried various ways of making people aware of Goa’s frescos and murals especially sgraffito and kaavi. I have written about it in my books, sent in several articles to papers and magazines and talked (and talked and talked) about kaavi to anyone who will be polite (or captive) enough to listen.
Having lost most of our frescos, we must now ensure that kaavi and sgraffito do not go the same way. It occurred to me suddenly that kaavi could also be taken out of architecture and introduced into another medium of exposure, taken to another level. Out of the blue, Uma Krishnaswamy, art history teacher (attached to four colleges in Chennai, including NIFT) writes to me asking for more information on kaavi. We bond over several emails and exchange research material and embark on an ambitious project. I would collect stories from Goa and Uma would illustrate them in the kaavi style.
This was the first time that I would be collecting stories in Goa. I know nothing about this side of Goan literature and need help. So off I go to meet Rajendra Kerkar who then hands me over to Shubhada Chari who then hands me over to a treasure cave filled with stories in the form and shape of a storyteller named Subhadra Gaus. The stories are sung, (not just told) in a Marathi/Konkanni dialect. Subhadra has a repertoire of over 100 story songs- monsoon stories, childrens’ stories, animal stories, forest stories, hero stories… The ones that I got most interested in were what I call “grinding stone stories”. You see, long before mobile phones (or any phone for that matter) and in the age when girls were married off very young, a young bride had no friends, no confidant in her marital home. Who would she confide in? Who could she talk to? Everyone seemed so hostile! So, the young Goan bride shared her innermost feelings with the grinding stone. As she sat on the floor, grinding her nachni (millet) or rice, the grinding stone became her best friend. Here, she sat and worked the stone and sang.
Thanks to both Rajendra “Bhai” and Shubhada, I was able to understand the depth of the emotional outbursts in the stories. It is thanks to them that I have been able to collect 13 stories so far and thanks to them that Uma, when she visited Goa, was able to meet Subhadra and take in the nuances and pathos in the stories. To give you an idea of the despair in these songs, here’s a preview from the book on the “grinding stories” (my title and as retold by me, unpublished):
SANSKAR
Oh dear Mother-in-Law! Oh my respected Father-in-Law! You have both been so kind to me…
How kind you have been to me… sending me to my parents’ house
Once again the house for me to see
My mother and my father are no longer around sadly though
Though my dearest brother and vhani* I will joyfully meet…
Oh what joy there will be… to see the trees, the hibiscus and the tulsi
The tulsi in the front yard and in the backyard the bimblim
Ah the bimblim through the door I can already see
See? I am home already. My feet fly over the trees!
Ah my tired feet, my ankles grazed from walking in my sari
My sari I will lift up slightly and my dearest vhani will wash my feet
My feet are being greeted before me? My dearest sister-in-law has no kind word for me?
No kind words for her husband’s only sister?
A sister who was always treated in this house like a precious baby?
With a baby’s forgiving heart, I shall not mind my vhani
My poor vhani is always so busy! She has a million things to do
Perhaps that is why she offered me such a simple meal…
Simple meals are good for me, they make me strong, they harden me
In fact I like hardened bhakris**… my brother has worked hard for the grain
I have rested now; my brother is still in the fields
The fields still have light but I must leave
I must leave before it gets dark and walking alone in the forest frightens me
Ah the future frightens me… but courage! My vhani will now fill my otti
My otti is the end of my sari that I will spread out in good faith
Faith that she will fill it with five coconuts*** and five pails of rice
With a few grains of rice she will press my forehead with a bright red mark of vermillion
And vermillion and turmeric on my lotus feet.
I did place my feet before my vhani and she did fill my otti
My otti, so heavy! But now listen to my story
My dear vhani filled my otti with inedible fruits from the arbora tree
The arbora filled my otti and instead of rice, there were pails of sand
Pails of sand in my otti, and thunder and lightning in the skies above me
Already the monsoons upon us so quickly! And husk bhakris for the journey!
Now my vhani gives me some old sheets instead of the customary volli
The volli made from a beautiful cane weave to protect me from the rain
If it rains what use will this old cotton sheet be?
Oh rain gods please shower your blessings upon me!
Upon me my mother’s and father’s blessings upon me!
If my brother hears my song he will surely come to me!
If my brother sees my tears he should not see I am weeping!
For my tears the rains will hide
O how heavy is the sand in my otti
Oh no, the brother has heard his sister’s song
A sister’s voice that he knows so well
“Sister mine, tell me. Who has given you arbora fruit and sand in your otti?
“Drop your sari end down and toss all this into the sea.
“Thank goodness our parents are not alive for this day to see.
“Come back home and I will see… what your vhani has to say to me”.
“I wasn’t thinking,” says my dear vhani. “I am so very sorry”.
“My house is filled with grain, coconut and fruit from the field and you have put inedible fruit and sand in her otti,” says my brother to my vhani.
My vhani gets to her feet. She rushes off to the market in Sankhelim.
She comes back from the market with a new red sari,
She lovingly puts new bangles on my wrist
My wrists are now filled with music, my glass bangles jingle and jangle
A new sari and a new blouse piece, kohl to line my eyes and for my hair a wreath of jasmines
On my forehead a red bindi, a dot of turmeric and a shower of petals
I feel like a new bride again
This day a new bride is leaving her brother’s house!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice! This time the new bride is being sent to her new house
By a loving brother and a loving vhani
*vhani is the Konkanni word for sister-in-law, a brother’s wife.
**bhakris are thick chapattis normally made from wheat or millet
***Five coconuts in the otti is a sign of the highest honour given to a married lady. Two coconuts are the norm.
hetapandit 