GOAN MUSICALITY: GENESIS & NEMESIS.
By Valmiki Faleiro.
I have done some “mini-series” in this column. On road carnage (March to May, 2006), Goa’s flora (June-Aug, 2006) and politics from the first polls of 1963 (Jan-June, 2007.) But I never received the kind of reader response as the nine pieces on ‘Goan music’ did. I’ll respond to some of those e-mails...
The Portuguese Governor who said, “There is no money for those who cry, where is the money for those who sing?” was Jose Silvestre Ferreira Bossa (1945-47), the fourth-lastGovernor. Bossa, an agnostic, was famous for caustic retorts. During those depressing post World War-II years, when petitioned for a gasoline subsidy to ferry pilgrims for the Old Goa feast, Bossa wrote back, “Quem tem fe, vai de pe” (whose of faith, must walk.) Portuguese troops utilised post-dinner recreation time for procreation grime. Goa’s then particularly puritan Portuguese Patriarch-Archbishop complained to Bossa, who rejoined, “They are long away from family, this is an evil necessity!” Music bred out of Goa’s soil and language. The earliest settlers, Mhars, played a variety of horns and drums – for purposes as diverse as entertainment, to keeping evil spirits at bay! As ‘pedhos’ (sextons) in a later era, they pealed and tolled not just church bells, butplayed bugles and trumpets. Dravidian tribes that centuries later followed the Mhars (and subjugated them) enriched Goa’s music with their ‘ghumot’ and such.
Then came the Sanskrit-speaking Indo-Aryans. Enchanted with the sing song native language, they dubbed Konknni as the “song language of ancient India.” Together with lands, ganvkaris and gods, Aryans conquered Goa’s inbred music-song. Aryans (Brahmins/Kshatriyas/Vaishyas), the new masters, imbibing the local ethos, added to Goa’s music traditions. But, surprisingly, though post-Aryan Goa was largely under South Indian kings, Hindu Goa’s music evolvement did not go the Carnatic way, the purer form in Raga (melodious) and Tala (rhythmic.) It embraced Hindustani music, which was much influenced by 12th/13th century Muslim conquests. One reason,perhaps, was the concubines (and their musically inclined consorts) of Goan Aryans were attracted by the more powerful and patronizing kings of north India.
Converted Aryans during the Portuguese era added a new dimension to Goan music, when restrictions on local language and song were relaxed – with forms like the Mando. Nothing remains static forever. Like Goa itself, currently undergoing another unremitting metamorphosis, from which, slowly but surely, will emerge a new Goa without ‘Goans’and ‘Goemkarponn’ that we once knew, so with her music. Tribal music is almost dead. Folk songs like ‘vovios’ were killed a long time ago. Gone are the ‘Mandds’ and ‘Zagors.’ Sacred and profane (non-religious) music survives only in pocket boroughs. As does latter day folk music like mandos, dulpods and deknis. Like the ‘Tazana Mandals’ of our Hindu temples of yore, church-run music schools, ‘Mestris,’ and maestros, like AntonioFigueredo, Fr. Lourdino Barreto and Fr. Camilo Xavier are now only a fond memory. A rarity today is those who can handle brass and string instruments. This is the age of electronic instruments, of pre-programmable organs and synthesizers, played by the ear. Of DJs and RJs. Of genres of music that would sound only a noisy cacophony to those born before the 1960s.
This ‘mini-series’ idea emerged from some recent orchestral concerts. Inspiration came from the performance of the Goa State Symphony Orchestra “confluenced” with an ensemble from Nuremberg, Germany, that performed in Panjim on March 4, 2008. Its recording was so kindly provided by senior journalist-friend, Frederick Noronha. I was glad to see embers of traditional music still alight. Particularly heartening was Sania Cotta. Inshallah, like the tennis racket Sania, this Sania and her violin shall go places! I shall end with an e-mail forward, “The Concert.”
When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat to find her little boy missing. Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive and shiny Steinway on stage. To her horror, the mother saw her child sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." At that moment, the great piano master entered, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered into the boy's ear, "Don't quit … keep playing." Then, leaning over, the maestro reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child, and he added a running obbligato.
Together, the old master and the young novice transformed what could have been a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience. The audience was so mesmerized that they couldn't recall what else the great master played... except the classic "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." In today’s music world, we’d call that a ‘remix!’ (ENDS.)
REGINALD B. VAZ
