JUST OUT

After "Sportoons" and "Howzzat!", Alexyz probably felt it was time up to take time off from sports and light-hearted rib-ticklers to turn to more serious matters like the various social ills that afflict society today. In this fourth book of cartoons, Alexyz revels largely in serious humour. His sharp pen and brush strokes lash out at the high level of corruption prevailing in government services, and discuss social problems like alcoholism, drugs, AIDS, tourism, garbage, drainage, pollution, etc. Alexyz takes a liberal dig at the way they go about destroying Goa's ecology by felling trees and levelling hills indiscriminately, and the infamous Nylon 6,6, mercifully shown the door at last.

Each of the several topics carries a few, succinct lines of text too. At the end, comes a list of NGOs. Alexyz's legion of admirers will definitely find "Goa: Paradise Lost" a treasurable compendium of cartoons, this time round to stir public conscience on issues that really matter, and which, if left unattended today itself, may spell to Goa, the erstwhile paradise.

"FREE FROM SCHOOL": Released on May 3, 1999, "Free From School" is a perfectly rare and wonderful book, written by 16-year-old Rahul Alvares. Rather than listen to dry lectures, Rahul preferred to be out among rustics, experiencing life in the raw and enjoying it up to the hilt.

Rahul took a year off from school to follow his instincts and learn from mother Nature. He spent the time free from school chasing reptiles at the Pune Snake Park and crocodiles at the Mamallapuram Crocodile Bank. Along the way, he got involved in the ways of spiders, earthworms, fish and turtles. He loves snakes and caught all sorts of them--poisonous or otherwise--with the Irula tribals. Call him if there is a snake around and Rahul will set you and the snake at ease.

He spent time during the busy cultivating seasons, ploughing the fields with a farmer's family in Parra, where he lives. Rahul visited several places in Goa and India learning so many things, which he has poured candidly into the marvellous book "Free From School". The book will inspire students, teachers, educationists and readers to look at life and and the process of learning itself. Because Rahul takes us out of the ambit of the sterile educational environment and introduces us to so many fascinating facets of life, which may be found in some books, but rarely touched upon by teachers.

The book's been brought out by the Other India Press, run by Rahul's parents Norma and Claude Alvares (the environment people of Goa), and contains Alexyz's typical illustrations. "Free From School" costs Rs.100 and can be ordered from: oibs@goa1.dot.net.in.

“BRIDGE AT BORIM”, written by Ms Surekha Panandikar, was released at the hands of the Goa Governor on April 21 at the Kala Academy. The book dealing with the story of a boy named Jose, who grew up with the Goa liberation movement, has been published by the National Book Trust.

GOA REMEMBERED: VIGNETTES OF FADING TRADITIONS
By Angelo Pereira
Pp.100 (1995) HB Rs.300
A major book on Sangolda village, illustrated profusely by the author. The things described here about life in a Goan village will make Goans yearn with nostalgia.

LEGENDS OF GOA
By Mario Cabral e Sa
Pp.119 (1998) Rs.395
Journalist and writer Cabral e Sa shares with readers a treasure chest of historical legends of Goa, from the earliest times till the end of the colonial rule. Illustrations by renowned cartoonist Mario Miranda.

GOA
Edited by John Oliver
Pp.80 (1997) Rs.300
Candid photographs of Goa's grandeur in every mood, with accompanying text by Anil Dharkar.

INDO-PORTUGUESE HISTORY
Edited by Teotonio de Souza
Pp.250 (1985) HB Rs.150
New questions about old issues. Several renowned writers trace Indo-Portuguese history with reference to trade, finance and culture from the 15th to the 20th century.

VINTAGE, MATURED STUFF

Esmeralda had just turned twenty. She was fair, with pleasant features and a trim figure. She was well mannered, obedient and hard working. She looked after the kitchen and the stitching. Passersby often stopped to hear the catchy tunes she sang with expression and feeling as her fingers fondled the ivory keys of her Rachel piano.

Ismael Irmao was without kith or kin. He longed to see a son-in-law installed in his modest house and property. What wouldn't he give to have a grandson dandling on his knee? He had already approached the parents of six prospective sons-in-law. He had failed miserably. Each failure left a deep groove in his old and generous heart. He prayed, made Novenas and offered votive candles to all the match-making Saints he knew of. His hopes were dashed to the ground.

Ismael Irmao was in a despondent mood as he trudged one evening to the 'vaddo' on the other side of the village. He thought to himself:

"Tome's fourth son is dark, short and plain-looking. He has an ordinary job without any prospects. He will surely welcome becoming a Ghor Zanvoim". Ismael Irmao was alone on the road, deep in thought. He exclaimed aloud:

"How I wish I had someone to help me? The Saints have failed, perhaps the devil could make me succeed." He shivered as a cold blast hit the nape of his neck.

"Well Compadre, here I am," said a fair young man, clad in a superbly tailored navy blue serge suit. His blood-red tie shone like a flag in a snow-white shirt. He wore scarlet socks in stylishly-pointed hand-made shoes. His hair was raven. His jet black eyes flashed defiance. Well-waxed moustache pointed arrogantly upwards.

"Who are you and what to do you want?" asked Ismael Irmao.

"I am a devil," said the stranger, "and I have heard your cry for help."

"Devil?" shrieked Ismael Irmao, as he jerked away and landed in a ditch. His hand was all over the place as he tried to make the Sign of the Cross.

"Now, now, Compadre don't be alarmed," said the stranger. "I will help you out of the ditch. There! Let me wipe your clothes. I am a Goan devil, a good devil."

"How can a devil be good?" asked Ismael Irmao in disbelief.

"How can a Goan devil be bad, Compadre?" countered the stranger. "How can bad devil survive in a land that holds the body of St. Francis Xavier? I am here to help you to secure Tome's son as a bridegroom for your Esmeralda."

"But how can you help me?" persisted the old man. "Whatever you say Compadre, I will repeat with DOUBLE emphasis. You'll see for yourself that Tome's whole family will accept my endorsement without a question."

There was a spring in Ismael Irmao's step and a lilt in his voice as they entered Tome's crowded house. but his spirits fell when he faced Tome, his wife, four sons, three daughters-in-law and half a dozen children peeping at him and his companion. He sneaked a look at his companion. He was completely at ease. He took heart.

"I've come," said he, in a faint voice, "to offer my daughter Esmeralda's hand in marriage."

"Both, Compadre and I, have come," said the young man in a firm voice, "to offer Esmeralda's both hands in marriage."

"She is fair, has a trim figure and is quite good-looking," mumbled Ismael Irmao.

"She is very fair, her figure is a dream. She could easily claim to be the most beautiful girl in Goa." Everyone was gaping open-mouthed at this emphatic endorsement.

"She cooks, stitches and performs quite creditably on the piano," said Ismael Irmao.

"She cooks like a chef," said the flashy companion. "She cuts, stitches and does the finest embroidery like a professional. And when she sings and plays the piano, even the nightingale bows her head in shame."

"Everyone was impressed. They nodded their heads in approval. Even the children became bolder. They sucked their thumbs. Their eyes popped out of their heads as they stared at the blood-red tie, the flashing eyes and the up-tilted moustache.

"I can give two thousand rupees as dowry."

"Compadre can give a dowry of four thousand."

"How the deuce did he know that?" said Ismael Irmao to himself. "I wanted to go up to that figure, if they bargained," aloud he said:

"I will give her two sets of jewelry, six bangles and six pairs of earrings left by her mother."

"Compadre will give her four sets, twelve bangles and twelve pairs of earrings of Esmeralda's mother and grandmother."

The old man sighed as he thought: "I wanted to sell the grandmother's gold and keep the money for my old age. It is no use now." So he continued in a resigned voice:

"I have a house with six rooms."

"My Compadre has two houses. One his own, the other his wife's."

"Good Lord," said Ismael Irmao to himself. "There goes the house I wanted to sell secretly."

"I have a bank account of five thousand rupees," he said aloud.

"Ten thousand rupees," confirmed the companion.

"This fellow seems to know everything," thought Ismael Irmao. "I wanted to hide the fact that I have five thousand in shares."

Needless to say, Tome and his family were very happy with the revelations made by the young marriage negotiator. Three groups bent their heads in whispered conversation. there were exclamations of approval and violent nodding of heads. All gestures pointed to a successful match. Even Ismael Irmao was elated.

"As long as my Esmeralda finds a husband," he thought, "I don't mind them finding out my 'hidden' treasures. how can I be sore with this good Goan devil?" Someone broke into his thoughts.

"Why don't you, young man, marry this paragon?"

The young man rose. He bowed his raven-haired head and replied crisply:

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure. I would willingly marry Esmeralda today. Unfortunately, I am cursed with a pensao. I cannot marry or have children. I dare not be selfish enough to inflict this curse on others."

Ismael Irmao wanted to clinch the deal. But a lifetime of rustic caution and honesty made him remark: "My daughter Esmeralda has a slight squint in her right eye. It is not noticeable."

"Yes," said the companion, "she is terribly squint. In act, she is cross-eyed. While one eye looks at the fireplace, the other looks up the chimney."

Everyone was shocked. "heavens! What have we here?" they thought.

The simple father was unaware of this reaction as he continued:

"She has a slight limp in her left leg. It was caused by a small fall when she was a baby."

"Esmeralda," said the companion, "is lame--very lame in both legs. She broke them when she slipped down the hill collecting fire-wood." "Good Lord," said Tome. "I don't want a cripple for a daughter-in-law."

"Nor a cross-eyed one," said his wife. "I wouldn't know if she were blaming me or the cat for the spilt milk."

Poor Ismael Irmao left the house in haste. As he turned around to rebuke the devil, he found himself staring into empty space.

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