Saligao Summer: A Walk on Bambolim Beach
I finally managed to get some sea and sand after two weeks in Goa. The conversation that accompanied my walk, however, made me think about the future of this beautiful state.
These two weeks in Goa have been special thanks in large part to my friend R, who I have described in this series as a fierce guardian of Luso-Indian culture and everything Goan. While she set me up nicely to immerse myself in the local culture, our work schedules and the general difficulty in travelling in Goa prevented us from meeting until yesterday.
Since I had access to a good local driver, I offered to pick her up from her home in Altinho, a place as the name suggests is up on a hill. I had been on this hill in 2022 and loved its lush green paths and calm and clean layout. It reminds me in many ways of Bombay’s Malabar Hill, which like Altinho houses the super rich as well as government servants who are high up on the hierarchy. At least, for now, Altinho has been spared of the mindless and reckless punishment that once-tranquil Panjim has been subjected to.
Our destination was the village of Bambolim, which is on the southeastern fringes of Panjim. Driving past the beautiful and well-developed neighbourhood of St. Inez, I noticed well-paved sidewalks and a prosperous feel, but the buildings and houses were swallowing up the green paddy fields that were once more widespread then they are now.
R told me about some super luxurious gated communities with villas that had stunning sea views. Apparently they were all owned by wealthy non-Goans, mostly Delhites!
When we reached the beach, the tide was high, but there was still enough of a stretch of sand to walk on. With its cove, the beach is definitely one of the prettiest in India. R and I indulged in long conversations about the changing nature of Goa. She was particularly peeved about the fact that an alien north Indian culture was being imposed on the state, one fuelled by money power. This reminded me so much of the Bangalore of 2008-10. I honestly would hate to see Goa become a chunk of north India on the Konkan coast.
On this warm evening, the ocean water was actually hot, and reminded me of the heated water that my geyser in Bombay gives me on a cool January morning!
After sunset we made ourselves comfortable at a restaurant on the beach that had most north Indian and continental food, but we found some nice Goan fare.
On the opposite side of the hill with elite bungalows was the port of Mormugao. I had written about this port in a couple of articles so it was a joy to see it from up close.
The dinner conversation went back to the changes that Goa is witnessing.
People seem to be coming to Goa for its culture and way of life, both of which seem to be fading, at least in the eyes of the locals… At the same time, many Goans are applying for Portuguese passports and leaving the state for Europe in a sense of disillusionment.
People move in search of a better life. That’s just the way the world works, and within India one has the freedom to seek greener pastures without too much red tape or bureaucracy.
How long will the pastures of this piece of paradise remain green? This is a question that is heavy on my mind as I wake up in beautiful Saligao on a pleasant Sunday morning, sit and sip coffee and read in D's private front garden, before going to the basketball court for a round of hoops and a walk past paddy fields…