Fiction
By Riddhima Basiya
Issue no 25
I decided to travel solo this time, yearning to get acquainted with the character of a place and its people rather than instant gratification in a grandiose resort stuffed with superficial objects, but lacking in soul. The web advertisement for mansão de Babolim or Babolim Mansion could not have appeared at a better time. Showing impressive pictures of the mansion’s facades surrounded by lush trees and trimmed hedges, the advert described the place as a ‘heritage homestay with complimentary breakfast and free wi-fi’.
By Epitacio Pais
Translated by Paul Melo e Castro
Issue no 24
Conceição had been happy once, but nothing in this world could bring that feeling back. What did return were her memories, of João’s savage kisses, his strange way of loving, animal-like but gentle, harsh but tender, veering between the platonism of words and the basest passion, his magic touch that brought either pain or maddening ecstasy, she was never quite sure which. His velvety words and jealous Cyclopean rages. His blazing eyes and tears of feeble subservience.
non-Fiction
By Jessica Faleiro
Your first book Shadow of the Palm Tree (2019) brought to light the presence of the slave trade the Portuguese brought to Goa. Your second book when god died (2023) brings to light the Goa Inquisition, another significant historical event in Goa that isn’t talked about very much. What was the motivation or inspiration for choosing to portray this particular moment of history in your latest novel?
By Heta Pandit
Why do we call it a book release, Rochelle? In fact, isn’t it just the reverse of release? Holding, reading, and experiencing a book is an inhalation, a holding in of your breath, a waiting for a revelation. That is exactly how I felt when I began reading Coins in Rivers. I wonder why the perpetrators of all the atrocities described against women are men. You write as a feminist; you see and understand scars. Even the ones under the skin. And yet, I see a soft gentle touch, not the caustic, harsh, and scarred perspective of a hard-core man-hater.
By Selma Carvalho
My anecdotal observations suggested that Goans were leaving Goa for a better life. At the same time, many others from across the country were moving to Goa for a better life too. Hence when I moved to Goa during the pandemic, I grappled with fundamental questions about modern migration, indigenous cultures, and identity: Where is home? Where do I belong? What is culture? How do I connect with my culture and community?
poetry
By Tino de Sa
Procession of One
Bleak, unlovely and unrepentant
for the many unspeakable sins of her arid past,
summer returns.
Without shame she uncovers the riverbed
with its harvest of pebbles,
too dry again for the melon seeds to root.
By Jessica Faleiro
During a routine consultation, the cardiac interventionist frowns at my father’s ECG reading. He’s immediately admitted into the ICU, where he’s restricted to seeing visitors for only thirty minutes, twice a day. The ICU security guard, Raj, allows me into the ward after visiting hours, when he realises that my father is in for a long haul. It occurs to me that he’s seen as many dead people wheeled out as live ones wheeled in.
By Salil Chaturvedi
Issue no 25
Sure enough
four petals a touch of orange in the stem
knee-high
That’s Farsetia.
This is the only place you will find it
On top of a hill, green in August
A short-lived trick
Then, a return to bare and rocky.
book reviews & excerpts
Review by Michelle M. Bambawale
I encountered Maria Aurora Couto through her two earlier works. In Goa: A Daughter's Story, I marvelled at the grandeur of the life she described in the palatial houses of Salcette, with their colonial connections through the Portuguese language, music, food, and lifestyle. Filomena’s Journeys: A Portrait of a Marriage, a Family, and a Culture, was heartbreaking.
Review by Selma Carvalho
We have to have an honest conversation about the role of the regional writer, that faithful chronicler of the immediacy of the life he encounters around him. He has no greater purpose other than to document this life—its history, nature, people, idiosyncrasies—captured by his indefatigable pen and preserved for posterity. Without the regional writer, literature cannot thrive, authenticity cannot thrive, geographical specificity cannot thrive.
By Augusto Pinto
Issue no 26
Raktachandan by Sanjiv Verenkar is the latest Konkani book to win the Sahitya Akademi award. It is the eighth collection of poetry of this veteran journalist and writer of books on contemporary Goan history. The title Raktachandan refers to the tree species pterocarpus santalinus (red sandalwood in English) that has many medicinal qualities. Among other uses, in the days before modern balms and ointments invaded our pharmacies it was used as a pain-killer for a variety of aches, wounds and swellings.
Banner image of Goa is by Chelsea Marques and downloaded from unsplash.com
The views expressed by contributors do not necessarily reflect those of the Joao Roque Literary Journal. They are here in the spirit of free speech to evoke discussion. Free speech is the pillar of a free society. You can write to lescarvalhos@yahoo.com if you wish to lodge a complaint.
By Selma Carvalho
The Friday they leave for a weekend in Belgium, Anju discovers Freddo is cheating on her. She doesn’t share her knowledge with him. What she should have said was, ‘Freddo, I’m tired of this shit. This time, I’m leaving.’
Her heart feels like it is going to stop breathing all on its own, distinct from the rest of her. The pain is so intense, she realises it is possible for the rest of her body to survive the carnage, while her heart, expelled from her being like a refugee, would simply die.