How a sad Goan mando comforted Granny

Goan mando Surya Denvon Guelo: Sad but soothing

“Baiye… Neena… to Am’recho Vellu mando mhunn go bai,” Mai said, pleading with me,  as she often did, to sing her favourite Goan mando Surya Denvon Guelo for her. That was in the 1970s when Granny could no longer pronounce the ‘V’ in my name having lost most of her teeth.

Earlier, Granny used to live in our ancestral house in Goa. But after Grandpapa’s retirement, while he continued to live in the ancestral house along with Dad’s younger brother and his family, Mai moved in with us in Bombay. I was in primary school at that time.

In the beginning, Mai would help me and my siblings with some of our basic needs so Mum could take care of the cooking, sewing, cleaning, and the umpteen other chores she would attend to all day long without the demands of four brats holding her down. Mai was still somewhat active then.

By the time I was in college she was old and too frail to do anything, and even had trouble managing her day-to-day activities. My grandfather had already passed away, and even though Dad had flown with Mai to Goa to attend the funeral, I guess she was still grieving for she hardly spoke much. All day long she would sit in her armchair while the rest of us rushed around, living our super-active lives.

Even way back then, I had the habit of singing songs out loud in the house. Mostly, I crooned the English songs we would hear over the radio week after week after unfailingly tuning in to Saturday Date and Wednesday Choice, the late night choice programs. But sometimes I would also belt out Konkani mandos I had picked up from listening to the older folks at family gatherings. It was this that prompted poor Granny’s frequent mando requests.

I am ashamed to admit that I would sometimes give more priority to what I was doing and fob her off with an impatient: “Rab ge Mai, maguir mhunntam.” Sometimes she would silently accept my excuse. Other times she would implore, “Muguel’ morgad… mhunn go bai…, ” till I obliged.

Goan Mando magic

I can still remember how listening to her favourite Goan mando Surya Denvon Guelo had a calming effect on Granny. It would even elicit a small smile from her when I was done. When I was younger, I used to wonder about the reason. After all, though the melody is incredibly sweet, it is still a sad song that echoes the pain of betrayal and the gnawing heartache of unrequitted love.

But now I realise this mando perhaps brought her the comfort of nostalgia by taking her back to her own ‘Summer of 69’. Like Bryan Adams she too probably liked to reminisce about the best days of her life – the early days of her marriage, and the times she enjoyed the companionship of her husband and perhaps singing mandos herself.

Did listening to her favourite mando help Mai grieve for Grandpapa and find relief from feelings of loneliness? Did it let her experience a few precious moments of joy by sending her thoughts winging back to her house in Goa which she perhaps pined for and got to visit just once a year when we all went there for the summer holidays? Did it evoke sweet memories of the time when she was younger and stronger and lived in her own house?

By singing this Konkani mando for Granny, did I help make her life a little less bland? Unfortunately, now I’ll never know.

Understanding the loneliness and needs of older people

When I look back, I realize how unaware we are of the needs and internal thoughts and feelings of old people when we are young and able. We fail to look beyond the wrinkled skin and shrivelled bodies to see the person silently bearing up the distress of loss of mobility and social networks, of being dependent on others, and of being excluded from taking decisions about their own lives. We fail to realise how, despite family support and being surrounded by family members, the social isolation of the elderly makes their lives terribly lonely. But I guess a day comes in everyone’s life when they discover the realities of aging.

In his famed poem “Ode to a Skylark” the celebrated poet Shelley says: Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. The sweetly poignant mando Surya Denvon Guelo composed by one of our great mando composers – Caetano Joao Coutinho – from Divar in Ilhas, Goa bears out the truth of this line.

Listen to the rendering of this all-time favourite by my brother and me. And don’t forget to share, like, or leave a comment…