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. One such regional writer is Radharao Gracias and his book A Shortcut to Tipperary (Broadway, 2024), is a valuable addition to the literary canon of Goa.

It immediately becomes obvious to the reader that the book is in part a fictionalised memoir, set in the decade following liberation where the Portuguese influence was still evident. Gracias recalls places, events, anecdotes with a keen eye but also sweeping swathes of the flora and fauna have been captured. Beautiful descriptions abound such as:

The pathway is narrow, sand deep and the prickly thistles form a mock avenue. The Sterculia stands tall with a perfect canopy of drooping branches, shorn of leaf. Kidney shaped pods, red and ripe, hang on the branches…The coconut grove descends into the paddy fields, dry and bare. The fields have been harvested and are full of paddy stubble. The pond on the margin is drying up. A marsh sand piper is alert to my approach before I have seen it, and flies away with a song.

This is an author who is inherently one with the land. The beauty of his surrounding and his interaction with it, shape his very consciousness. But the reader is also privy to images of twentieth century everyday life, such as:

The door is opened and the mouldy smell of a house that has remained closed for long, greets us. The house has strong whitewashed beams and rafters. The roof is quite high. The house is airy with an entrance, a sitting room, kitchen and dining room, three bedrooms and a bathroom. The toilet as is the norm in Goa is detached from the house.

The story follows one man Alberto’s journey in finding his roots, but each chapter is singular and yet part of the larger story. It focuses on a particular aspect of Goan life, such as a football match, summer holidays, religious ceremonies and festivals, occupations, the tailor, the choirmaster, and leisure pursuits. Gracias’ attention to detail is extraordinary and so is his recall and accuracy. Even minor recollections are historically accurate such as the Belloy ward of Nuvem village being a summer retreat for Goan gentry in the nineteenth and twentieth century.

The bhatkar makes an appearance as a major character. Gracias in his narrator’s voice tells us “The Bhatkar is not so much an individual as an institution and there are Bhatkars in every village. Some good, some bad, some ugly. I have noticed that this particular Bhatkar has empathy for the poor and the downtrodden. Thus the balcão of the Bhatkar is always crowded with people, morning, noon or night seeking some help or the other.” In the wide social and cultural landscape of Goa, the bhatkar is the owner and landlord of vast tracts of orchards and paddy fields, which he leases out to tenants, mundkars, to cultivate and oversee in return for a portion of the harvest. But as is demonstrated by Gracias’ portrait of the bhatkar, he is much more than a landlord, he is generally brought up with a deep sense of noblesse oblige, and these “durbars” that bhatkars held at their houses, dispensed advice, arbitration in case of disputes and even permissions to marry. The nature of this relationship was feudal, but it was an early form of organised governance.

There is a brief foray into Bombay by the protagonist Alberto, a visit to a Goan kudd. The narrator writes, As we enter the club I can see such trunks line the walls. The club is spacious with several rooms, a kitchen and a place for prayer with an altar dedicated to Nossa Senhora da Boa Morte. Any story, particularly one set in South Goa, is incomplete without a mention of the sailors’ kudds. Set up by village organisations, these boarding houses provided affordable accommodation to countless Goan tarvotti, seamen, as they waited in Bombay to be signed up by ships or when their ship had docked. The impulsion for young men from South Goa villages to make a living by joining the British naval or merchants was so strong, that by 1926 of the 35,455 Asian seamen signed on by the Bombay Shipping Office, 10,330 were Goans almost all in the Stewards Department.

Page after page reveals a familiarity with village life, a measured unveiling of Goa, perhaps sadly, a Goa that is now no more except in snatches here and there, and in our imagination of it, but Gracias has more than one book in him. Gracias is a lawyer, an activist and the founder of the United Goans Democratic Party. He has dedicated his life to jurisprudence, politics and activism and no doubt has his finger on the pulse when it comes to Goa. What we need next from Gracias is his perspective on the transformation of Goa through the decades, and the implications of a polity and citizenry unprepared for the business of democracy.

The book can be purchased on Amazon or direct your enquiries to the author.

Photo courtesy Selma Carvalho