Looking at the Mandovi
river and walking around Panjim in Goa gives me a Lisbon feel. I realize
somehow that I have come another full circle. A few years ago, I was in Belem
in Portugal, where boats and ships started during the Age of Discovery, and now
site of the tomb of Vasco da Gama. Little did I know that just left of Thailand
across the pond, I would one day find myself coming out of the Dabolim airport
in Goa and off to the nearest town named after the great explorer, Vasco da
Gama.
Life, especially during
travel, surprises us with names and memories that invite us to somehow close a
chapter, an episode of our continuing journey. Most of the time, if not always,
it would signal a new beginning. Goa offers me a lot of these beginnings, but
not without first drenching me with deja vus and irony that stick like sweat on
a shirt.
The smell of Europe lingering
in wooden cabinets or pop-opened in ideas and conversations over fish thali and
kokum juice or soup. Modern buildings sticking out in a backdrop of old “foreign”
structures. Casinos floating along an ancient river, flashy billboards damming
perhaps the eventual erosion of hills.
I was once in Goa for
the December holidays. I actually had spent New Year’s Eve waiting by the terrace
of a restaurant by the beach in the north. It was at that moment, with feet on
top of the balusters overlooking the sea and the sea of foreigners waiting for
the countdown, that I reflected on what sort of novelty were we expecting for
that New Year.
When everything is new
all the time and everything gets old by the second, what’s the new new? The answer
came the day after, on New Year’s day, through a family’s welcome and the sight
of a woman by the portico of a more than a hundred year-old ancestral home. In
a generation of control-alt-deletes and regular updates, that good-old,
familiar feeling is the new new.
In a fast-paced world,
you look forward to looking back, to not forget about remembering. And stories
of past love and failures and laughter are as refreshing as they get. And it is
only when we look back to where we come from that we are totally home, that we
are new again.
The very first time I
woke up in Goa, I found myself on another working day towards a world that I
dream of. I saluted those in the offices and those in the greater offices of
being with bigger things to work on, that need to work out. I dedicated that
day to my nephew whose work on earth had just finished, and to his loved ones
whose work just got a major reshuffling and restructuring.
There, by the Capela de
Nossa Senhora do Monte, I could see down below Old Goa's world heritage sites
sprouting like mushrooms on a canvas of green. I was staying in a building
attached to one, the Church of St. Cajetan, which was designed after St.
Peter's Basilica in Rome. I wondered why with this much precious history and
the ever beautiful present, everybody seemed to be always in a hurry.
One time while on the
bus leaving Goa, it dawned on me that I had been travelling almost a day in
total in a span of almost four to meet with kids for two little hours. I was hoping
those two little hours of positive energy would be enough for the kids to carry
them on until the next meeting. Deep inside of me I felt some giant changes
romping about my being. And the old kid who was married to his thoughts that I
was, it was a real kick in my spiritual hypothalamus. And yet, while I did
nurse some rebellious thoughts and beliefs that may seemingly go against some
time-infested and traditional cultural norms, the wanderer in me felt my system
was moving towards harmony, some sort of consolidation.
And so I laid these
thoughts one by one and told them stories of the sun and the rain. How
sometimes a change would do one good. That walking away might be the best favor
one could do to oneself. And some circles have to closed. How more dignified it
is to burn in the sun than to rot in the shadows. That there is grace in
embracing failure. That there is joy in defeat. I told them these stories and
then I told them, yes, there will be consequences. It won't get easier now. And
I said home is not the ability to resist in one place for the longest time. I told
them home is a journey.
I swear it by the tomb
of Vasco da Gama, and the town named after him. // for Oasis Holidays
--
For an all-India tour in 22 days, you may want to check out this .
For Tour and Travels India as well as International packages from India, please contact us at .
is a worldwide-eyed wanderer currently based in Bangalore, India. You may follow his musings and wanderings on this blog. is a series of articles based on Mr. Rover's adventures and discoveries in this very interesting and incredible subcontinent.
