THE day when the sun never sets celebrates a person who will always be etched as larger than life in my memory. Alfred de Tavares loved his birthday on June 21 and would exhort my mother as he woke up, “Mana (eldest sister) phogotyo maar (light firecrackers),” as is customary for festive occasions in Goa. The free-spirited spontaneity, often at great fallback on him. He stroked his pepper-speckled beard, chuckled heartily and regaled us with his real-life episodes that left us incredulous. We were never disappointed, his brushes at the Nobel Ball, his shadow role in Hollywood, his glee at explaining his red Indian jacket, and other such minor escapades you learnt to expect the ordinary to turn extraordinary from and with him.
Goa, thou art the mother of beauty
IF only I had listened. His close association with Dr Jack Sequeira, Father of the Referendum, (Opinion Poll in 1967 for Goa’s status) marks the retention of Goa’s unique identity. The first of its kind in India, there would be very few who would recall the campaign songs that were composed to win the ballot! The saving grace of documenting some of his narrative, at the turning point in Goa’s history, is due to the persistence of journo Devika Sequeira to write a column for the “OHeraldo.” This column encapsulated this period of the early and mid-60s several weeks before his large heart claimed him.
Fluffy, as I monikered him as I could not say, Alfie, had a story for every occasion. Of his exploits at St Xavier’s College, Mapusa, of relatives across the globe he managed to stay in touch with when most of us did not even have landlines, of his days in Paris (and his encounter with Mary Hopkin) a city he dearly loved and wished to visit before he passed on.
The evolved Swedish way of life was in sync with his liberal mind, but his heart belonged to his homeland, Goa. We listened with bated breath at how he helped rescue a Swede captive in Calcutta (now Kolkotta) and the many children who got a lease of good living in their adoptive homes in Sweden. Most of this was relayed by another and we had to prod him to tell us about it on his visits on any pretext that got him back home.
Each of the decades that followed calls for a dedicated compilation. He is remembered by the reportage on Bofors, wherein he rushed to the assassination site of the Swedish PM Olaf Palme in the freezing temperature, and stumbled upon a bullet he found close by. As I recall him saying his reportage for publications in Goa was gratis to support them.
As we honour June 18 for his beloved Goa, it seems like yesterday when he would make light of his many brushes with life at its fullest, with malice towards none at all! I can almost hear his throaty rendition of “Those were the days my friend…..”
Back to Bohemian Bombay
MY collection of vintage stamps of the 40s and 50s was snuffed in the excitement of raddi disposals several years back. I mustered the courage to visit the Philately department at GPO Mumbai and get my fill of first-day postal covers. Some years back each post office had a limited supply of these releases but now it means a trek to the grand building under restoration. That is good news for the heritage site.
Bombay Meri Jaan
I CAUGHT up with my dose of avid learning. I missed this team that brings the city its cultural nourishment. The “Motifs, Materials and Makers of Indo-Gothic Architecture” in Bombay, now Mumbai, is what city lovers were drawn to. Thankfully this architectural cluster is earmarked and protected to mark our civic topography. Remarkably it is functional in all utilitarian aspects of transport, education, health and law that it was planned for. Can you imagine walking up in awe at the splendour of the Asiatic Library for your convocation back in the day? I have been privileged to be one of the last evening batches at the Bombay University at Fort for my post-graduation in Economics. The memory of the Library paled the release of “Harry Potter’s School of Magic” for me. The mystic of an era gone by is still our daily marvel, kudos to the exhaustive efforts of conservationists.
When Age is just a Number
WHO doesn’t know the young 90-something Sophie Ahmed? Her zest for life invigorates me to visit her “The Atelier” at Rampart Row. She gets me to try making an origami tulip and wait for her in her space that has an eyeful in every square inch of art, craft and board games she has collected over the years. I wear a crown in origami, savour almond cake and dash to NGMA with her. Well, that’s how I met her as she enlisted me to fold points with paper at “Title Waves” in Bandra before the pandemic shut us all in.
The Title Waves space and a nudge from Anca Abraham, got me out of my happy cave. I sat with kids and was enraptured by documentaries on wildlife at Kanha, Tadoba and Ladakh through the lens of Kenneth Lawrence. The most adventurous I have been this week is to brave the pavement in front of Kitab Khana to browse through their fabulous selection of titles.
Talking of NGMA, the new director Nidhi Choudhari (IAS MH cadre), an artist in her own right, and her IAS colleague from the West Bengal Cadre Rajanvir Kapur, let the woods speak to you through their abstract art at Hirji, Jehangir Art Gallery. Rajanvir has fused Australian aboriginal art influences into his work. He was intrigued to know that Australia Day is celebrated on India’s Republic Day the 26th of January, as was I to see the tiny dots surrounding his signature abstract style.
On till 22 June 2025
Vitamin Art
THROUGH this rainy spell, I stick to geographies that provide me with my fill of literature and art abundance. This ANT it was Colaba, Experimenter, Sakshi and Apre which have spectacular art. Throwback to a beautiful summer with the kids and I can picture the zillion hot air balloons dotting the Scandinavian sky in Stockholm as a rainbow took over the blue skies. Midsummer and crowns of fresh flowers swirl in the fields that come alive with so many bands and bonfires. As the city cools down this plays in my mind’s eye. Life is beautiful!