Saligao Serenade

by Fr. Nascimento Mascarenhas

In this day and age, when animal rights are increasingly recognised and respected, social activists would probably reprimand me for writing about Raya Parulekar, who hailed from Donvaddo in Saligao. For, he was employed by the government to shoot stray dogs in the village.

Of course this was in the days when the Portuguese ruled Goa and shooting of stray dogs was mandatory. At that time the healthcare system was ill-equipped to take care of persons who had been bitten by dogs, stray or otherwise. Further, people feared that the strays could be infected with rabies. So the regedor of the village in collaboration with the president of the communidade was empowered to get rid of any stray dogs deemed to be a nuisance or danger. In the days before electricity came to the village, going out at night was a scary proposition. Anyone who ventured out was always armed with a danda (stick) and a burning chutt’ti or ponti (makeshift torch), to ward off the vicious strays, which often attacked without warning.

To be appointed as a stray dog shooter, one needed to have specific abilities and proficiencies. Perhaps, a known propensity for cruelty to animals was one of the prerequisites. To own a gun required special permission from the authorities – it had to be registered with the government as well as the police.

So Raya was one of the men chosen to get rid of stray dogs. A big gun slung across his shoulders, he cycled round the whole village and unfeelingly gunned down the stray dogs he came across. An unfailing sharpshooter, his aim was mercilessly accurate every single time. The hapless victims were then buried by the villagers or passers-by.

During the monsoons, the pigs that destroyed the rice fields belonging to the Saligao communidade were also put to sleep by Raya. Sometimes domesticated dogs and pigs also became an unintentional target, if they were inadvertently allowed to roam free by their owners. Such accidental killings were of course distressing for everyone, but in the larger interest of the village, all abided with the government policy.

During the cashew season, Raya and his wife also occupied themselves with cashew plucking on the communidade hills. Raya allowed us youngsters to eat as many cashew fruit as we wanted but we were not allowed to carry the cashew seeds home with us. Botanically, cashew is Anacardium Occidentale. There is a single carpel, which yields a kidney-shaped nut with a hard, resistant pericarp (shell) containing an oily, edible kernel. The fleshy fruit forms around the nut when it ripens, and is used to make Goa’s most loved liquor-feni.

The oil obtained from the shell and kernel of the cashew nut is used in the manufacture of varnishes, gums, inks, oilcloth and laminating resins. The oil is also used for treating cracks on the sole of the foot. Before setting out to work barefoot, weeding the rice fields in July, kamerim (labourers) apply the oil on their feet and toes as a protective salve.

The cashew nut industry in Goa is a large revenue-earner, and extracting and processing the nuts for the mass market is today largely an automated process. But in the old days, for us children, roasting the fokam (unprocessed nuts) on wood fires was a joyful exercise. The delightful aroma would attract an audience that would invariably advise us on the proper method of husking and roasting. And we all used to love to crack open the shell, firmly knocking it with a sharp stone or prying it open with two sharply pointed sticks. Those who were able to do this without breaking the kernel within, proudly displayed their spoils; while the rest of us had to be content with broken nuts and black marks on our hands and clothes that would remain indelible for days on end.

The fokam marks would eventually get washed away of course. But the quaint services provided by people like Raya Parulekar have made, on the history of the village, a mark that will last forever.