Frederick Noronha
Romi Konkani remains the poor cousin of Nagari in Goa. Given this trend, hardly a handful of Romi writers stand out. They hardly get reviewed, leave alone translated. Romi writers are rarely seen as part of the Konkani canon. Nevertheless, Soter R. Barreto is one of those who has been spoken about with
some respect.
It was a pleasant surprise the other day to come across Soter-Sorg: Venchik Lekham-turo. This 188-page book comprises the selected articles of Soter Renato Navaro da Piedade Barreto, the late writer from Margao. He passed away at the age of 76 in the year 2020.
We learn that Soter, born in Portuguese times in Margao, first studied Portuguese, then did his BA at Chowgule’s, and later a lab technician’s course. Career-wise, he worked at the health services for 40 years.
His writerly life reads as would many of those who entered the field around his times. He sought the space offered by religious publications. He would read the once very-popular Romi Konkani ‘romansi’ (potboilers) by the likes of Reginald Fernandes. Barreto also drew encouragement to write from others like the editor-writer
Felicio Cardoso.
One can also notice his involvement in writing for the ‘small press’ and so many publications which existed then—Sot, Divtti, Uzvadd, Novem Goem, Goencho Avaz, Sunaparant, A Vida, Vauraddeancho Ixtt, The Goa Times, Gulab, Dor Mhoineachi Rotti, The Goan Review, Zaag, Bimb and others. In a word, almost every Konkani publication of those times.
This book contains 51 short chapters, some of just two pages, dealing with a range of topics. Some are topics related to politics, literary issues, social issues, life, personalities and sports. It has been brought out by an editorial board consisting of professor S.M. Borges, Fausto V. Da Costa, Fr. Ave Maria Afonso, Anthony Menezes, Willy Goes, and Mafaldina Moreira, all writers in the Konkani field.
With titles like Amchean Bharata Khatir Kitem Korunk Zata? (What could we do for India?), Dhormvadachem Duyens (The Curse of Communalism), Alibaba ani Babux, he makes his political points. He tackles themes like panchayats, corruption, commemorating December 19 and the like.
His other focus goes on Goa’s peculiar choice of names for its sons and daughters; the unique month of August; the day the monsoon breaks (‘mirg’); then-versus-now comparisons; the Ganesh festival; even growing violence against children; and Teacher’s Day.
His personality pieces focus on Henri Grouès, better known as Abbé Pierre (1912–2007), the famous French Catholic priest, Resistance fighter, and social activist. There’s also his mother; the Goan priest-saint Jose Vaz; medico Dr Narain Hedo; Indian football; and even grassroot football match fixing in Goa (“When it rains goals”).
Since these articles were written over the years, there’s a certain charm in going back over time. The short articles offer pithy comment, remind us of things past, and give new insights into understanding what we take for granted.
He starts one article in this manner: “Once August was round the corner, our elders would wear a stressed look. There was a reason for it. By August, the granary would be empty. Also, the provisions gathered for the monsoons would be running low…”
Tributes to the late writer, by editor Fausto V. Da Costa and writer Guadalupe Dias, give an insight into the man and his times. His role–with other Konkani (especially, though not only, Romi) promoters Felicio Cardoso and Fr Freddy J. da Costa–is also acknowledged at the start of the book.
Barreto’s other works include his book of poems Mannkuleank Rozanvalle (for children) and Kovnam Turo (for general readers, both in Nagari). He is known for his stories Afrikanist (rendered into English as The African Tiger and into Portuguese too), and Damu, both translated by
Augusto Pinto.
This brings us to the wider point of disparity within Konkani, and why Romi writing is somehow seen as inferior to Nagari, though the former has been in active and effective use for centuries now.
One explanation could be that literary authority in Goa has been mostly shaped by state policy, institutional power and elite gatekeeping. Since 1987, official recognition of Konkani in the Devanagari script, including for education, awards, grants, and textbooks has positioned Nagari writing as the “proper” or “standard” form of literature. So, Romi Konkani, despite its long print history and wide everyday readership, gets squeezed into the category of the informal, the religious or the journalistic rather than the ‘literary’.
Review culture follows power: critics, syllabi and juries are overwhelmingly aligned with Nagari institutions, so Romi books circulate with little critical apparatus around them. The result is not a lack of quality or readers, but a lack of institutional amplification. Visibility, prestige and reviews also follow script lines rather than literary merit.
But it’s probably more complex
than that.
Long before 1987, Romi Konkani was looked down upon because script was a marker of power, legitimacy and social hierarchy. From the late 19th century, reformist groups, influenced by Marathi print culture and notions of ‘classical’ languages, equated Nagari with authenticity, antiquity and cultural respectability.
The Portuguese state, meanwhile, was never seriously concerned in Konkani’s standardisation; script battles were left to local elites rather than being institutionally resolved.
So, Romi fell into a double bind: dismissed by nationalist elites as insufficiently “Indian” and ignored by colonial authorities as insufficiently “useful”.
Romi Konkani emerged largely from priests, tiatrists, schoolteachers, journalists, and lay writers. Its strength was immediacy, oral rhythm, and social reach. Yet, that very closeness to “ordinary” life made it vulnerable in a culture where literary value was calibrated by status and proximity to elite models.
Nagari Konkani, by contrast, was shaped in significant measure by intellectuals who were already embedded in Marathi literary circuits. This made it possible to borrow genres, critical vocabularies, stylistic norms and even ideas of what a “modern” writer or poem should look like from contemporary Marathi writing. The latter itself carried prestige as a reformist, print-driven and urban culture.
Such an asymmetry made a difference. Nagari writers were conversant with recognised literary movements and criticism. So their work appeared more self-consciously modern and theoretically legible to reviewers or editors and even academics.
Romi writing, even if inventive or socially sharp, was seen as raw, popular or devotional rather than as “literature”. Thus are the benchmarks of modernity decided upon. Aesthetic judgment can be often shaped by elitism. Those who define the rules can then reward themselves for playing by it.
This is why voices like Soter Barreto’s need to be read. Published by the Dalgado Konkani Akademi, 2025, Rs. 200.
