GOANOW - Books(April 1999)

The sugarcane field
There was once a fox called Kolo who was friendly with a crocodile called Manghem. Kolo was clever and cunning. Manghem was simple and stupid.

"Why Manghem, you are looking very thin. Have you been sick?" asked Kolo one day."

"No, Kolo. I have not been sick. I have not had anything to eat for two days. The river is drying up and no fish comes downstream. I really don't know what to do."

"Why then," said Kolo, "we can go quietly into farmer Pandoo's sugarcane field and have a big feed. The crop is just right--soft and juicy."

"Suppose Pandoo sees us?" asked the cautious Manghem. "I am swift as a fish in water. On land I am as slow as a buffalo."

"We'll go after sunset. Pandoo will be at home. It is far away, on the other side of the field. Nobody will hear or see us," said kolo.

Kolo ran ahead of the slow, cumbersome Manghem. The latter was trying her best not to make any noise. Kolo started eating the sugarcane greedily. He finished five plants before his friend arrive. He finished five more before Manghem could chew through her first plant.

"Oh-Oo-oo! I'm dying," shouted Kolo, doubling up in pain.

"Sh-sh-keep quiet," said Manghem. "Pandoo will hear you."

"Help, help!" yelled Kolo at the top of his voice. "I've eaten too much sugarcane. I'm dying. I've eaten ten plants. You, Manghem, have finished half of Pandoo's field. But your stomach is strong. Help, help!"

Pandoo was having a party that evening. Kolo was fully aware of this. Pandoo and his friends heard every word of Kolo's pretended pain. They collected sticks, stones and bamboos and rushed to the field.

Thack, Whack, Thack! They beat poor Manghem as she struggled and stumbled along the ground to the water's edge.

"Ha, Ha," she heard Kolo's laugh in the distance.

The water melon feed
"You still look thin," said Kolo to his friend a week later. Manghem nodded her head and said," I am black and blue with the beating I received from Pandoo and his friends. Besides, I haven't eaten a morsel since that day."

"Poor thing! I wish I could do something for you," said Kolo. "Why, yes, I can. I've just seen Gabru's water melons. Each one is as large as the dome of a church. You like water melons, don't you?"

"I love them," replied Manghem, smacking her lips. "But I don't want to be beaten up again. If it were not for my thick hide, I would have been dead."

"How can you be beaten?" asked the wily Kolo. "If anyone comes along, all you have to do is to push your head inside a water melon and lie still. Nobody will be able to see you."

That evening Kolo and Manghem went to Gabru's field. The water melons were dark green and ready for picking. Manghem gave a gasp of delight as she rushed forward to sink her teeth into the first mountain of blood-red flesh. Kolo had arrive long before his friend. He had already eaten four and was polishing off the fifth. Manghem was still chewing the first.

"Help, Help! My stomach is aching with water melons," shrieked Kolo. Gabru and his workers pushed out with sticks. They saw Kolo at the edge of the field, pointing out to something. They looked and saw Manghem, with her head hidden in a huge water melon.

"Kill him," they yelled. manghem felt the first thuds on her back. She turned and fled. They beat her again and again. Their sticks broke. They picked up stones and flung them at her.

"I'll teach Kolo the lesson of his life," vowed Manghem, as she struggled into the water, her body one mighty ache!

The talking house
Every Friday morning Kolo went to Mapuca. At the weekly bazaar, he got his provisions cheap. Manghem crept into his house, when Kolo was away.

"I will eat Kolo and also the delightful provisions he brings from Mapuca," said Manghem to herself. "It will be enough for a fortnight." She waited patiently for Kolo.

It was quite bright when Kolo returned. he observed marks of feet and tail entering his house, but none going out. "Aha!" he thought to himself. "Someone is hiding in wait for me. I think it is Manghem. Let's see."

"Oh house! Oh House!" shouted Kolo. There was no answer. Again he shouted. Silence. "Funny," he said aloud, "every time I shout 'Oh house! Oh house!' the house answers. Today there is no answer. Something must be wrong. I'll try again." So Kolo shouted, "Oh house! Oh house!"

"Oo-oo-oo," said Manghem in a high pitched voice.

"Help! help! Robber, robber! Kill him," yelled Kolo at the top of his shrill voice.

Neighbours rushed to the rescue with sticks, knives and iron rods. Once again poor Manghem was beaten. Kolo's house was quite far from the river. The beating she received was worse than what she had, twice before.

The live hay-stack
Every morning Kolo went to collect hay for his bullocks. One night Manghem hid in his haystack. Kolo noticed patches of black inside the hay.

"I wonder if it is Manghem. let's see," he said to himself.

"Oh, haystack, Oh haystack!" Kolo called. There was no sound or movement.

"Now, isn't that strange," he said aloud. "Whenever I call to my haystack, she shakes. Today there is no movement. I wonder if there is someone hiding inside."

Kolo called again, "Oh haystack!" The haystack shook at one end and then at the other end. "Oh, ho," said Kolo to himself. "Only Manghem could do that!" Kolo took out a match box and set fire to the haystack.

Poor Manghem rushed out of the blaze, closing her eyes. She coughed and sneezed. In spite of her tough hide, she had severe burns all over her body. Huge blisters formed on the under parts.

"Never again, will I try to get even with Kolo. He is too smart for me," moaned Manghem.

^gn

Folk Tales of Goa, penned by Arthur Francis 'Meurin' Santos, is a rather old book of traditional Goan tales, the type every granny would tell her grandkids in Goa. Incidentally, it was gifted to me by Meurin's grandson-in-law from Calangute, Neville Proenca (Pousada Tauma).

Meurin grew up in Igatpuri and studied in Jabalpore and Bombay. It's very interesting to note that an industrial engineer and management consultant like him thought of bringing to us the centuries-old delightful little tales of kolo-koli, kolo-manghem, Attulem-Bittulem, Suimami and the Goan devils.

In the foreword to the engrossing, little book, liberally illustrated with Mario Miranda's typical cartoons, George Menezes writes, "Children will wonder why these really beautiful stories were not to be found in their everyday storybooks. Adults will wonder why they did not have the foresight or the ability to do what the author has done. In all Goans old and young this book will generate the same excitement that one witnesses as the old boat from Bombay touches the quay at Panjim in the month of May."

Nostalgia, nostalgia indeed...I won't write anything more. You have a specimen of those tales above, which we are sure you will enjoy. If you wish to purchase the book, which costs next to peanuts, please let me know. I'll put you in touch with the people who hoard them.

Joel D'Souza

^gn

SOME MORE GOA BOOKS

ANJUNA
By Teresa Albuquerque
Pp.106 (1998) HB(LF) Rs.280
Beginning with a backdrop of ancient Goa, the author winds her way into the heart of Anjuna village and its people. Sepia toned illustrations and photographs take you down the pages of history and then bring you back with a jolt to the Hippie Cult and the tourist hot-spot of today.

PEOPLE OF INDIA--GOA
Ed. by P P shirodkar and H K Mandal
Pp.315 (1993) HB Rs.250
The first ethnographic survey of Goa with thirty-four communities identified and studied. Excellent reference material.

GOA, THROUGH THE AGES
Ed. by Teotonio R de Souza
Pp.316 (1990) HB Rs.250
Part of a five-volume series on the history of Goa. The volume deals with economic history and contains essays on trade, transport, communication, migration, natural resources, etc.

Most of the above books have been listed in
The Other India Bookstore's CATALOGUE OF GOA BOOKS
(email: oibs@bom2.vsnl.net.in)