Frederick Noronha
Many in Goa today passionately defend Konkani. Street protests and prolonged campaigns were organised to secure a better deal for the language — and, among some groups, for Marathi as well. Yet decades later, how have Goa’s languages actually fared? Despite receiving considerable — if sometimes reluctant — government support, why does a broad sense of disappointment still prevail across most constituencies?
This is one side of the story, a side that hasn’t been discussed in a book before. Can one see it as a lovers’ dispute gone sour? Or is it something more serious about language and its roadblocks in Goa? Or, could debates such as these give us hints of the wider challenges we face as a society?
This is a strongly-worded, 256-page book about language in Goa. Rather, it focuses on the politics within the politics to promote and develop the Konkani language since the last forty years and more. In two lines, the sum and substance of the book is laid out in the blurb: “Konkani in [the] Roman script was denied its rightful place in the Goa Official Language Act of 1987. A devastating betrayal indeed….”
Firstly, the author needs no introduction. Tomazinho Cardozo has been a sarpanch, award-winning tiatrist, prominent mando troupe leader, long-time Konkani campaigner, Romi-script backer, and even (for one term) the Speaker of the Goa Assembly. This is part of his six–yes, you heard it right–volumes titled ‘My Journey’, each looking at different aspects of his life. Going backwards, the last is to be on social work, and the others on politics (“turbulence unlimited”), the Candolim village panchayat, tiatr, education, and this volume, on the “betrayal of Konkani in the Roman script”.
His close-up view of panchayat and state politics should be interesting, specially if told frankly, and with no holds barred. This particular volume released very recently falls in a similar category too. It is told with some bitterness too.
So, what does this book cover?
In six parts, Cardozo tells his first person experiences, the trajectories over language in Goa. Obviously, he tells the story from his own perspective. Being a participant can be both a boon and a limitation here. He offers us the background on how the contentious conflict over language shaped up.
At the start, we are given the historical background of Konkani in the Roman script. From the plethora of writing in this script (and dialect associated with it), it was once widely used and also popular among its readers. Konkani in the Roman script has a wealth of literature produced.
Part 2 looks at the author’s experiences with Romi Konkani from his youngest days and also at the Dalgado Konknni Akademi (DKA), which he has also led and shaped. This gives a very comprehensive history of an institution, started in 1988, to promote the Roman-script Konkani cause.
Some might see this as an insider’s view of the DKA. That may be a fair criticism, but, in the absence of much tracking of Goa’s linguistic campaigns, it still offers some useful pointers.
Part 3 is about memoranda, interviews and comments that were put forth by the Romi camp. Of interest is the link between language, politics and power. To make some headway, the Romi camp obviously needed the blessings of those in power, irrespective of party labels (Digambar Kamat when in the Congress and Manohar Parrikar as the new BJP chief minister). On the other hand, Cardozo also has verbal skirmishes with those whom he campaigned alongside with, in the Konkani camp.
Part 4 reproduces the writings of the author in newspaper articles. Here, there’s a wider range of topics, including Konkani in education, the Mangalorean promotion and Konkani (and resultant misunderstandings), the Sahitya Akademi and Konkani, endangered languages, literary awards (and how these get connected with scripts), and the like.
Part 2 is what makes for an interesting read. This is both because of the details it contains (the history of the DKA, from Cardozo’s perspective), the story of the author’s own growing up years, fighting poverty brought on by the early death of his father, his birth in Pomburpa and boyhood years in Candolim.
The first part, about Romi’s literary heritage, has been covered elsewhere. Anyone who has been following this issue closely would have come across the many landmarks in Romi Konkani history. Some citations could have helped to build greater validity for the information we sometimes take rather lightly.
Likewise, Part 3 of the book takes us back to the times and the issues which are easy to forget in a Goa where the public memory is even shorter.
Discussions about the medium-of-instruction also come up on these pages. Religion and identity, the “mother tongue” and education, the contributors to the Romi cause (including Shenoi Goembab’s early writing), and the risks of neglecting certain scripts of a language, are also focussed on. At some stage, one gets the feeling that the debate about script in Goa has traditionally focussed more about tradition and legitimacy, rather than of rights, non-discrimination, and the preservation of culture. If seen from the latter lens, then the Romi case gets stronger. So do the cases for the other scripts used for Konkani, perhaps the only language in the world which is currently written in five scripts worldwide. Linguistic diversity needs to be seen as a strength, not a weakness.
It should also not be made to seem as if the debate about scripts is primarily about awards and grants; there’s much more involved. Including the future of Konkani. Likewise, the reluctance of politicians to manage such issues, specially when in power, needs to be more closely scrutinised.
The strength of the book is its attempt to closely document crucial issues related to language in the Goa of our times. Some might feel that Cardozo often sets the Romi arguments as a response to Nagari. This can be a bit of a constraint.
For instance, the antiquity of a script should not be seen as the issue which gives it legitimacy. Likewise, size. Just because the Perso-Arabic and Malayalam scripts are little used currently, is it good enough reason to write them off? Shouldn’t anyone concerned with preserving language diversity be even more concerned about the loss of such scripts? After all, these minority scripts also hold a wealth of traditions, and it would amount to a denial of the rights of their speakers.
In the same way, language promotion can be either about enhancing the rights of speakers, or it can be a tool for excluding others. Someone might say that it’s sad that while Konkani promoters sometimes went about promoting their cause by excluding others, today those within the tent of Konkani themselves fell victim to being excluded themselves. Goa perhaps needs to accept its multilingual nature, if it is to do justice to its diversity. This book would be of interest to those interested in language and politics in Goa, whether readers agree with it or not.
