Away from the busy main roads of Panaji, though not far from one, scores of brightly dressed folk spend a couple of days each December elegantly swaying and mellifluously singing. Not everyone attends a traditional mando festival. But the past week marked the All Goa State-level Mando Festival’s 58th edition, and, despite some early challenges when it was initiated, this appears to be one success story in keeping local traditions alive.
From its tentative start in August 1965, this colourful song-and-dance event has survived and grown over the decades. The event skipped a few editions in the early 1970s but has otherwise been organised fairly regularly. Then, in the late 1990s, there were reports of declining audiences. Yet, this traditional beat of gentle Konkani melody and restrained movement continued to carry its themes of love, longing and social grace.
One needs to remember the contribution of Ben Ferds (as the late father of Remo Fernandes was known), Brig Inocencio Monteiro, Dr Bhicaji Ghanekar, Octavio da Costa Rodrigues, Francisco A de Noronha and so many others responsible for keeping the festivals alive. Traditions, thus, did not fade away. There were institutions involved too. The festivals were organised initially by the Clube Nacional, then the Konkani Bhasha Mandal, and for over four decades now by the Goa Cultural & Social Centre.
Savant and scholar José (Ze) Pereira argues in his ‘Essay on the Mando’: “It was in Goa that the first symbiosis of any Asian tradition of music with the European was realised, in Goan Song, of which the Mando is the consummation.”
But, as with most things traditional, there are many challenges facing the mando too. In recent times, it has struggled with the declining everyday use of Konkani among urban youth. There is also the shrinking of social spaces where it was once sung and danced informally. Its confinement to stage performances and competitions can freeze it into a “heritage item” rather than a living practice. All this is compounded by limited documentation, dependence on a small circle of practitioners and institutions, and the pressure of louder, faster popular music. Without doubt, the latter forms are better suited to today’s electronic media and attention economies.
Views may vary among experts, but one needs to grapple with the road ahead. Some feel the mando, with its roots in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, needs to return to lived social spaces. More than curated stages and festivals, it could benefit from homes, village gatherings, music classes and informal singing. This can ensure that the mando evolves as a shared practice.
There indeed was a period, roughly from the late 19th century into the early decades of the 20th, when the mando functioned as a respected medium for ideas in verse and sentiments in song. It was used to compose tributes, social commentary, commemorations and even narrative reflection among elite and semi-elite Goan Catholic circles. This faded from the 1930s to the 1950s, but even today it is possible to see the rare individual or event commemorated in song, sometimes even critically of the powers that be. As organisers pointed out, it was heartening to see young people – from tiny tots to teenagers and collegians – take part. The mando currently has at least a couple of PhD researchers working on the topic. Goa can do better in reviving its many vibrant and historic traditions. More efforts are needed to popularise the mando and other traditional music-and-dance forms.
