A Story And A Recipe Frozen In Time, From The Idylls Of Goa's Khazans

The village of Raia undulates tenderly, rising to hills and sinking to level fields. It is a rich land with the River Zuari skirting its borders that are marked blood red with broad mud banks, which protect the Khazan or reclaimed lands near the river. The Khazans are fertile fields where everything that sustains a Goan can be grown – red rice, vegetables like tambdi baji (amaranth) and even small fish and succulent prawn, whose spawns are released in these fields. Every decade, the Khazans are flooded by the river water to cure the fields of pests.

Ignacio Fernandes sits on the banks of a Khazan, waiting for his friends to join him this summer afternoon. He trudged up the tiny road that leads to the settlement of prawn breeders at Zuari village, a spot of land reclaimed from the river. On his way, he passed by the huge Rachol seminary that stands like a white sentinel, watching over the green fields. The bank Ignacio sits on will be swallowed up by the rising waters of the river during high tide, but right now, Ignacio dips his feet into the ankle-high water on the side of the bank and has used an old basket fashioned from palm fronds to catch some fat prawns. He skewers them on a twig and fashions a fish line from a stick and a small piece of rope, attaches a tiny prawn on one end and aims for a pool of frisky mackerel, waiting for them to bite.

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The idea of meeting here at Zuari was Ignacio’s, as most plans always are. “Let’s meet and have some urrack and a picnic”. The others soon arrived, as fast as Joveniano’s cycle could carry the two. Ignacio was happy to see his friends, Joveniano and Caetano, especially when they showed him the extra urrack “quarter” tucked under Caetano's arm. The afternoon was laid out here for the three friends--gulp down a few fingers of the cloudy drink, wait for the cool river breeze to coax the alcohol to kick in, and then take the fresh river catch back to a dry spot to cook up some tonant bazlole bangdey (hay fried mackerel).

The amigos settled down on the banks, and took large sips of the sweet yet fiery drink. “Saude” they cheered, and waited for fish to bite.
“I need to get married soon,” said Ignacio. Caetano, who was already sweating profusely as the urrack began unwinding in his spindly 21-year-old body, was suddenly alert, hearing Ignacio’s insane declaration. Ignacio, their fair and short “amigo” who had just returned after a long boat ride from Bombay, India, must have already had too much to drink.

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“Why do you want to do such a silly thing? You are only 21,” said Joveniano, who overheard what Ignacio had said. As the eldest of the trio at 23, he had already managed to find himself a steady job at the Radio Mondial shop in Margao. He was their main mechanic. He loved fixing things.

Ignacio was quiet. “I don’t want to leave Mae all alone when I am on the ship. They say I have to sail back in December. Joveniano, what is the name of the girl in Nuvem? You said she was pretty."

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Joveniano who was busy dusting the red mud off his white blouse and pants, was stumped. “Kaun te? Which girl? Wait, I got something on the line,” he yanked and pulled out a modoshi (lady fish), its light pink body shimmering in the afternoon sun.

The boys got busy with the cleaning up of the few mackerels and a couple of lady fish that soon filled up their paante (basket). Their actions were slow thanks to the arrack. As they gutted the fish, the red insides tumbled down the mud of the banks, back as fodder, into the Khazan water.

The boys took off to a shady spot under the mango tree near Raia gate. This archway built during the reign of Adil Shah of Bijapur, before the Portuguese made Raia, the verdant spot near the Zuari, their first stop in Salcete district. Raia was the first region to be Christianised. The first church at Rachol, Raia, was built in 1565.

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On this sunny day in May 1933, centuries after Christianity found fertile ground in Goa, Ignacio and his friends chose the same spot to mark out their future plans. The church bells chimed in the distant announcing noon prayers. Joveniano had carried a small hay bundle on his bicycle. He laid out the hay and topped it with the gutted fish. He rubbed salt over the fish pieces, covered it with a handful of hay and set it on fire.

With a big flare, the hay was soon a bed of embers and ash. The boys dusted the hay off the crisp fish, flipped the filets, and sprinkled more salt on the raw bits. With another layer of fresh hay laid on the upturned fish, they set it on fire, again. After a few minutes they waited for their smoky picnic meal to cool.

“I know the Nuvem girl you are talking about. Inaz. But she is very dark, you won’t like her." Ignacio was inspecting the bronzed fish, dusting the cooled ash off with a twig, pinched the tail of a cooked lady fish and placed it in his palm over the banana leaf he was holding. He then splashed some urrack from his glass on the fish. “Let’s eat first. There is a reason I need to marry this girl.”

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The tender white meat had them quiet for a while, munching softly, taking more swigs of the drink. Caetano had brought a raw mango which they sliced with a pen knife, the mango slivers were a sour hit with the sweet fish meat. This was a snack they ate often at the local tinto, but here just between the amigos, it was like a secret pact. “I will be gone for the whole year, every year. Doriya cher begin paonay. We don’t travel fast on the sea,” said Ignacio, looking at the plucked burnt tail fin in his hand. “I don’t want my wife to sleep around with other men. If she is dark, she will not flirt with other men. No one will try to woo her in my absence,” he concluded.

Caetano burst out laughing. “Arrey foddya...in the night it doesn’t make a difference if the girls are fair or dark.” Ignacio laughed as well. They then spoke of the other girls they saw at church. Filomena and her sisters, Artemis who had a limp but also was very voluptuous. They had nicknames for all the women. It was strange that Ignacio would choose an unattractive woman so that she would be loyal to him. Ignacio, who came from a respected family in Raia, whose forefathers had lived in Raia for centuries. The cemetery holds the bones of all his ancestors. Why would he choose a girl from Nuvem?

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Ignacio, however, had made up his mind. As the light afternoon meal of baajleleo modoshi and sungta (fried mackerels and prawns) and drink had lulled them to sleep, Ignacio got Caetano to promise him that he would accompany him to Nuvem later that week.

“Voi re,” said Caetano, "I’ll come". They were friends for a long time. He would accompany him to see that “dark” girl.

Later that Sunday, Ignacio went off to Nuvem church to pray instead of his homestead of Our Lady of Snows Raia. He took in the arches and the high ceiling of the church, but was not moved. The church of Our Lady of Snows was much grander, the architecture told a story of where the first priests came from, a land where it snowed. No Nuvem church could hold a candle against the history. Ignacio felt proud of where he came from. Right now however he had other pressing non architectural things on his mind.

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The priest conducted the two-hour-long mass in Latin, his robed back turned towards the congregation. The church was not well ventilated and Ignacio felt suffocated in his black suit and chemise. He stepped out of the church mid service, waiting for the elderly gentleman to step out, eventually.

“Senor! Senor Gomes!,” An elderly man -- reed thin in a sharp coat, sweating profusely, yet giving his arm to an old bent woman whose crochet head scarf covered most of her face -- stopped abruptly. Who was this boy?

“Senor, I’m Igancio Fernandes from Firgeum bhat Raia. This is about your daughter. Well, your youngest,” said Ignacio, the glare from Mr. Gomes for this intrusion was searing.

“I have only one daughter, yes. What about my cholle?” asked Gomes suspiciously. The audacity of this upstart of a boy to ask about his dear Piedade. His only daughter. A child who was born to him after several petitions at the shrine of Nossa Senhora de Bom Parto to give him a daughter he could pamper. His four sons were too boisterous for his liking. His daughter though pretty however had her flaws, she was also short tempered.  At 23, she was still unmarried. Her dark complexion or rather his own bequeathed to his only precious offspring, had kept suitors away.

But today under the hot May sun, here is a complete stranger, asking after his Piedade. “I have a proposal for her. My friend Caetano Da Cunha from Damon, Raia would like to marry her,” said Ignacio hurriedly. He believed his lie, and it was easier to continue. “He has been a student of the Lyceum and has topped his class. He has just started working for the government of Estado Portuguesa in Lisboa, he works for their shipping department,” said Ignacio. “I can get you a formal letter later in the day from his parents. They would be delighted to visit your home,” said Ignacio.

Gomes was taken aback. The Da Cunha’s owned land from Collea Dongor to Santemol. “Come back later this evening. I will talk to you further," said Gomes, as he walked away.

Ignacio went over to Piedade’s house in the evening, just as her father had asked. But he didn’t have the patience of having another meeting or two before he got to see Piedade. So he asked Caetano to join him for a stroll in the markets of Margao. "Dress well," he told him. Caetano, unaware of Ignacio’s grand plans, thought it was a night out to see the new band playing at Longuinhos. He was ready at 4 pm, Ignacio came in a carrier to pick him up. “A car? For us? This is nice,” said Caetano. However, he did notice that Ignacio was dressed only in his pantaloons and a white shirt. “Tu neslo na?” You didn’t bother dressing up? Then why did you ask me to dress up?” Ignacio winked at him and asked the driver to hurry up to Nuvem.

Caetano was nervous. “Ignacio, my father will kill me if he knows I have been roaming around the countryside looking at girls. Mr. Gomes will be furious. He will complain to the church. Ignacio don’t do this,” pleaded Caetano after Ignacio filled him in on his plan. But Ignacio continued to bribe him with promises of perfumes from France and knives from Tokyo. Caetano stumbled up the porch of the Gomes household, a villa with a large balcao. A maid ushered the boys, and asked them to wait in the salla.

A line-up of Jesus, Mary, St. Francis Xavier looked down on the two sinners standing in the sala from the elaborate altar of the Gomes family. Ignacio saw the silhouette of Mr Gomes approaching. He was dressed in loose pantaloons and a shirt. “Ignacio! Yes...good of you to come. Who is this?”

"This is Caetano."

“What? Saiba...is this the boy? Why did you not tell us he was coming along?,” blurted Senor Gomes.

Gomes excused himself after asking the boys to have a seat, and appeared again after 15 minutes, dressed in his best suit. He apologised to Caetano for making them wait. As a farmer, Mr Gomes had a lot of people in his employ, mundkars who took care of his fields, and their wives helped run his household.

"Ignacio, this is short notice, I asked you to come alone,” he mumbled.

“Senor Caetano, we shall speak at leisure. Let me get you some snacks and perhaps an horchata?” He directed the maid who was eyeing the boys from behind the lace curtain at the end of the salla. Ignacio got up promptly, “Allow me to accompany her. I shall get a better look at your house. You can speak to your future son in law privately.” And he swiftly followed the maid.

The kitchen was already abuzz with the news of two young men who were here to see Piedade. The kitchen staff was stumped to see Ignacio walking in. He quickly put them at ease with a lie. "I am not the groom, just a friend."

Piedade was in the kitchen too. Ignacio was glad she was here. She was quick and comfortable in the kitchen. She laid out the cream puffs, and insisted on making the tea herself. She offered him a taste of the bebinca, "made of 20 egg yolks and 15 layers". Ignacio tried to get her to speak more, he asked her where the grinding stone was, but Piedade cut him off, she said she had to go dress up; her father may call her to meet the groom. Ignacio waved her request away. “Senor Gomes won’t let Caetano meet you right away. Not today.“

Piedade then took Ignacio to the back kitchen, a simpler set up with open fires, a huge mud platform for the grinding stone and for vats to store the day’s kanji. She pointed to the grinding stone, “I spend a lot of time here. It is peaceful,” she said. She then bent over and took out a bankin, a low bench, so he could sit comfortably. She felt shy, as he watched her intently. He was good looking, fair and smart. But he was short. Shorter than the men she had seen at the Christmas ball, the smart boys who knew all the dances and could sing mandos.
Ignacio told her about his trips on the ship, the big buildings in Macau, the best knives and scissors made from Japanese steel. He asked her if she stitched, cleaned, washed, and could cook a whole Leitao (pig suckling). Piedade was flushed, but answered steadily without meeting his gaze.

After the snacks-- a tempting tray with slices of bebinca, dodol, doce de grao-- were sent out for Caetano, after half an hour of not hearing any call for her. Piedade decided she had spent too much time with this stranger in her kitchen. Her mother who was at the neighbours house had just arrived at the back kitchen. “Avoi!” called out Piedade, “Did you hear?” Her mother, Isabelle, caught Ignacio standing too close to her daughter. She yanked her away and asked her who this boy was. Piedade explained that it was Caetano’s friend. Caetano was the man who had come to ask for her hand in marriage. Isabella cursed herself for having gone to her friend, Terezinha’s house, on this very day that Piedade got a proposal!

But now that Isabella was here in time, to warn her daughter. She whisked Piedade to her bedroom. “These boys are like dogs in heat,” she whispered to her daughter. “Don’t talk. Don’t be seen with them when their parents are not around,” she said.

With Piedade gone, and the maids watching him with hawk eyes, Ignacio decided it was time to rescue Caetano. Ignacio ventured out to the salla to find Caetano drenched in sweat. Mr Gomes was standing next to him, livid. “This boy is hopeless Ignacio. Why did you even think of getting such a match? Who are you boys?  Malciriado. Get out of my house,” he boomed.

Ignacio and Caetano bowed and ran out. They ran till the end of the lane, and stood out of breath, laughing and visibly relieved to be out of the Gomes household. Caetano was furious. “What were you doing? Foddya...you got me killed.” Ignacio hugged his friend and said thank you amigo, “I know who I am going to marry. Piedade, dark and lovely like Tonant Bazlole Bangde.” He winked.

Next week, Ignacio went to Gomes' household with his mother Lourdina. He apologised and asked the father for his daughter’s hand in marriage, this time for himself. Gomes, who was furious at first, laughed at his son-in-law -to-be’s cunning. Ignacio’s parents visited Gomes' household later that week with aunts and uncles in tow. Piedade stood waiting in the corridor to the salla, behind the lace curtain, hoping to speak to Ignacio. She had to tell him she didn’t like being fooled. She didn’t want a short husband. But she did not dare oppose her father. Everyone congratulated the dark Piedade of having snared a “fair” husband. 

(This appeared in the print edition as "All is ‘FAIR’ in LOVE")

Sharon Fernandes is a goa-based journalist and author