Beach 'N' Business

SUSHEGAAD may be a sigh in the languorous Goan breeze. But the Konkani word for 'laid-back' typifies the state to which city-sick Mumbai-slickers run. Some to settle down permanently.

"Sushegaad embodies me. Can't dream of living elsewhere," says Jamshed Billimoria who dunked a roving merchant navy job and a blossoming career as model in bustling Mumbai for Goan backwaters. Billimoria with wife Ayesha (journalist with eco-mag Sanctuary) joins many from Mumbai, with few from other buzzing metros, who have preferred bohemian Goa's bonhomie and beaches. Splash this with the fizz of beer, spicy fish curry, serious siesta, yearround parties and everyone-knows-everyone mateyness. Even its monsoons, raw and primeval. Paddy fields, silvery waterways, foam-lined beaches, old Portuguese homes and churches. You understand why Goa is the terminus for fast-track lives aching for a recess. These include cartoonist Mario Miranda, ad guru Bal Mundkur, designer Wendell Rodricks, fashion photographer Ritu Nanda (from Bangalore), former army chief Gen. S.F. Rodrigues, architect Dean D'Cruz and artist Udayraj Gadnis (who intends to retire in a Goan cave).

For some, like Miranda and Rodrigues, it's a reverting to roots. But for others, it's a precipitous decision. To chose between "this Paradise on earth" or a burn-out lifestyle. For most, like Billimoria and Nanda, it meant throwing away well-ensconced careers. Mental space an elixir, better than Goa's feni. A shift in perspective making "life's finite pleasures more dear", as world tour operator Sucheta Potnis vouches. Beyond cleaner air and laidback style, it's Goa's enduring romance that hangs heavy in its salt air. Goa's charm: more space (mental and physical), at less expense (emotional and financial).

Goa, once a holiday harbour, is now their last stop. And they are careening busily to earn this permanent holiday. The workload, they aver, has risen. But the sweat it draws is sweet. Unlike sweating it out in Mumbai's traffic snarl-ups, enervating commute, sardine-can humanity. The New Goan has left behind these Mumbai-specific constraints. With few regrets, despite Goa's torpid phone lines, paralysing power-cuts, non-existent public transport and laissez faire attitudes that mock deadlines.

Here, each New Goan tells you, you can be your own boss. And something more besides, as Rodricks, residing at village Col-vale, confirms. After hogging fashion headlines with his Goa shows, Rodricks plans a French-Goan restaurant, titled Sorpos after sorpatel (the state's delicious pork dish).

"Make a mark in Mumbai and it doesn't matter if your studio is in Dharavi or Kathmandu. Anywhere but Mumbai's pokey studios in Parel where you work with rats, roaches. Fortunately, my profession allows me this luxury. Workload has not reduced, nor my earnings. I work at village rates, very low. Though I flew down media and models, when I compared costs with Shahab Durazi on his Mumbai show, the expense was the same," says Rodricks, who studied design in Los Angeles and Paris. He remembers how kith and kin warned him against professional harakiri by shifting base.

"Goa has retained human courtesies. If my baker and I greet each other, we mean it. In Mumbai, people aren't rude. There's just no time to be polite. They're rushing to catch that 9.12 local!" In Goa, time seems to stand still. "I could've dreamt, like most do, of retiring in Hawaii. But when it happens, you are bored! My parents find it too quiet here, everything shuts early. I don't want to be conditioned to be restless," he says.

Goa nonchalantly shuts the door against the mess elsewhere. When Gujral toppled, Rodricks was reading his cherished books on philosophy. He learnt of the 'catastrophe' when visiting Mumbai, since he doesn't watch TV or read a news magazine. In Goa, nobody smirks if you don't.

MAYBE, laughs Miranda, whose squiggles have immortalised the "visually sumptuous" Goa's many facets,"we are not cut off. But politics is not all, as it is for those in Delhi or Mumbai." Stringing a guitar, singing a Latin American number, nursing a beer are not unwelcome. Sitting in his 320-year-old house, immersed in history, with some beer, he mulls: "Always wanted to settle here." Last June, two truckloads of his exquisite collections from the world over trundled down to Loutulim's palatial mansion. Miranda sometimes resorts to the centuries-old heavy barricades, against tourist carloads keen for a dekko of his priceless paintings, antiques, bric-a-brac arranged tastefully. It's also a must-halt for Miranda's celeb friends like writers V.S. Naipaul and Salman Rushdie. And it even features in films like Shyam Benegal's Trikaal. Planeloads of interesting people globeover contribute to the intellectual fertility. "Goa is a halt for such a varied lot. There were 25 museologists from Singapore, and a Lord working to stop Venice from sinking."

 Not surprisingly, it's the party place. "Everybody is giving a party," Miranda almost complains, remembering the distances one covers. Mumbai-industrialist Jimmy Guzder's parties are famous. "Some parties stretch through the night, going into the next day," grins Billimoria. Says Nanda: "During tourist season, the crowd is truly international. It's the most happening place in the country."

 Singeing on burning ambition as fashion photographer, Nanda cooled off in Goa. She followed her architect husband's instinct and transferred her castles in air into concrete in Goa and set up the India shop of bric-a-brac, quaintly titled Camelot.

No retirement place this. Gen. Rodrigues, though always a "Mumbai boy", chose Goa for a change of pace. And promptly found himself on several boards—the International Centre of Goa, planning board, Chamber of Commerce, University Council.... "There is a lot of work. Only, it's on your terms," he explains.

Miranda agrees. He is shifting to exhibitions (doing a series on Goa, Latin India, for shows in Brazil and Mexico), involved with nurturing local talent (through the Portuguese Foundation, helping with its two-day Jazz fest) or preserving Goa's treasures through the Museum of Christian Art, and plans an art gallery to display unknown local talent. And is distressed about Goa losing the "romance"—its landscape gouged out by tourism's demands "keeps me on my toes", he says. "Now things are the other way around. I visit Mumbai twice a month."

But traces do remain of the Mumbai hangover. When in the metro, Miranda crams in three movies a day, if possible, as Goan the-atre halls are "terrible". And at night, the peace in Goa can be "disturbing". Rodricks too pines for Mumbai's animal vitality. "When it gets to me, I dash off to Mumbai. But in two days I'm dying to be back." He misses theatre. "Can't expect Metropolitan Dance Ballet to visit Goa, can you?"

Despite such minuses, Miranda's young sons have chosen Goa as home. While Raoul Miranda jets off to New York for a refresher, his father finds demand for his son's hair-styling grow, with carloads from Mumbai seeking his special touch. Who said there's no work here?

 Architect Dean D'Cruz, who feels he may have made more money if he hung on in Mumbai, still finds his appointment books full with assignments in Delhi, Bangalore, and, yes, Mumbai. Be it Vijay Mallya's mansion or Mahindra's training institute designed to bear the D'Cruz signature. "When young I believed in systems (hightech) architecture. After training with Gerard Da Cunha, I converted to natural, low-cost architecture," he recalls. Mumbai had no place for it, being "a builder's market". Disillusioned, he homed in on Goa.

Shireen Mody burned herself out in London as commercial artist, traipsed to Goa for a breather, decided this was where she'd live and die. "I was working 13 hours a day. But after Goa, I sold out the company and flat. And rented a big Portuguese place."Now in Arpora village in tourist-besieged Calangute, Mody focuses on her favourite subject—Goa. Commissioned to do six canvases on Goa's paddy fields, Mody also plans to do its seasonal moods. "Goa's different. The crowd's global, people are open. You've urban facility in a village atmosphere."

 Fine for New Goans, but not necessarily for Goa. As Claude Alvarez, activist who shifted decades ago from Mumbai, observes: "Most new arrivals keep to themselves, don't get involved in local activism against eco-degradation, over-stretch infrastructure. And are part of a cocktail circuit that's made Goa an extended suburb of Mumbai."

Celeb-residents explain why Goa is irresistible. Musician Remo Fernandes, squatting on the airport's sidewalk, smiles: "Everybody knows everybody. But they'll leave you alone. Even Mumbai's film stars are not mobbed here." Shamen Shackleton, who moved to Mumbai to walk the ramp, made a name, and has returned to set up Goa's first finishing school. Mumbai's "gold-paved streets" were "too polluted".

The Billimorias are at home too, in Goa. Jamshed laughs: "Today, I can work on the beach, taking my mobile there." He set up an Italian restaurant in Calangute and still has time for other loves—scuba diving, graphics and hawking road reflectors.

 Says Hans Tuinman, Potnis' partner in Odyssey agency, which organises exotic India tours: "Someone asked me, when are you going to realise life isn't just a holiday?" But selling dream holidays, the duo bought a sleek yacht Solitas, among the 10 in India. "To see dolphins frolic in the sea," enthuses Potnis. "From this house we built, I can look down on egrets flying. The changing seasons. Peace that grows within. This is the way life should be," she sighs. Why spend a fortune in space-starved Nariman Point, when you can reach out to the world from home in Goa, with less overheads.

Kavita Mukhi took to a Goan life. Sold out her business, franchised her products, and now plans to sell them under her own name, while still retailing in Mumbai. "I remember biking through Goa. And thinking, why can't I make this my life?"

Cartoonist Alexyz Fernandes originally "came to rediscover Goa". He then quit a career as copywriter with a major Mumbai firm. With the aim of doing Goa some good, he, with friends, set up a non-formal school and helped form 'Coconut Brush', a collective of artists from Siolim, where he cartoons for local publications. He disapproves of those like "Shobha De, who flit to Goa, but make it out to be just a fun place". There's more to Goa than beer and bonhomie. "When I chose Goa, I knew I might have to make less money. But I've got so much more in return. I got out of the rat race to do more. On my terms."

 Which explains why the "Rome of India" is now home to many Mumbaikars.