Gauri Gharpure studied journalism at Columbia University, New York, on a Fulbright grant. She makes paper jewellery. Follow her on twitter @gaurigharpure
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The Mario Miranda Art Gallery in Torda, a little farther from Xaviers Historical Research Centre in Porvorim, is an excellent tribute to the great artist and human being
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Of the many things I have done on a whim, one of the best impulses has been to travel to Loutolim and knock on the doors of the Mario Miranda mansion with a request to "see him". It was November 2010 and I had spent close to a fortnight discovering Goa by foot; had jumped into public transport buses from Patto to destinations selected merely by how much I liked the sounds of their names. I had admired quaint old bungalows and the wild foliage of their gardens whenever I lost my way. Only two days were left in Goa when I decided to follow up on my father's (whimsical) suggestion that I try to meet Mario Miranda.
Miranda was born in 1926 in the then Portuguese-ruled Daman to a Roman Catholic family in south Goa’s Salcette area. Miranda didn't have a formal degree in art but was admired and felicitated for his cartoons the world over. He worked as a cartoonist for publications like the Times of India and The Illustrated Weekly of India. He was awarded the Padma Bhushan in 2002, the Padmashree in 1988 and the Padma Visbhushan posthumously. His vibrant cartoons have immortalised the walls of Cafe Mondegar in Colaba, Mumbai.
The Mario Miranda Art Gallery in Torda, a little farther from Xaviers Historical Research Centre in Porvorim, is an excellent tribute to the great artist and human being. Located opposite Museums of Goa, the gallery has originals as well as prints of Mario Miranda artwork along with a fascinating array of creative souvenirs like tee-shirts, fridge magnets, key chains, table lamps and greeting cards. The place is worth a visit by tourists as well as locals to admire, cherish and share Mario Miranda's joyous works.
On November 22, 2010, Sabi D’Costa, a resident of Fontainhas, became my guide after locals had told me that Sabi used to drive Miranda’s friend Policarpo Vaz, or Polly, also a cartoonist, to Miranda’s home in Loutolim. We reached just after sundown. I carried with me a hardbound tome, Mario de Miranda, his biography containing more than 2,000 sketches and cartoons. Habiba Hyderi, Miranda’s wife of five decades, answered the door. I fumbled for words and Sabi stepped in. "She has come all the way from Ahmedabad," he said; "She wants an autograph."
Miranda sat on a relaxing chair in the living room. He wore a gray shirt and loose gray pants. On one side was a glass of wine and a white plate with cheese cubes. On the other side was tea in a disposable cup. Miranda looked up and beamed a smile. The glow slowly spread on his frail face; he raised his hands in a gentleman’s welcome and motioned us to sit.
“So what do you do?” Miranda asked. I said I used to work for a daily. On hearing that, Habiba interjected from the other side of the room, “No interviews.” But, as if he had not heard her, Miranda continued talking. He told me with great joy and pride about the Fundacao Calouste Gulbenkian Scholarship. The grant had given him the opportunity to quit his job with The Times of India and travel to Portugal for a year. He suggested that I travel as well: “I mean, what is that life just sitting on the desk? You must travel a lot when you are young. That is very important.”
I could have done with an autograph but Miranda welcomed us with warm and attentive conversation for more than half an hour. No formal interview was planned but when I asked him if he would answer some questions, he smiled nervously. “You want to interview me? But it has been so long, you know. I am afraid I might not be that articulate.” He paused for just a bit to decide before asking me what questions I had.
He said that sense of humour was the most important ingredient of the artistic temperament. "It is the idea of speaking for the masses, not laughing at people but laughing with them. We Indians have a tendency to laugh at people. That is all right sometimes, but to be a part of the fun, to laugh with people is also a very important part of existence.” He asserted that it is very important to laugh at oneself, worthwhile to preserve humour, go deep into it. Humour helps people plod along.
On a question about differences between the past and the present, he said that a new type of character has emerged from the chaos that exists today. "But one has to try and rely on the present and do the best that he can…” I asked him if a creative person try to be non-judgmental and he advised to avoid judgment as far as possible. "That’s why I stayed away from political cartoons.” Out of the blue, Miranda lamented his inability to take people to task. “I can’t say no,” he told me, “but you can!”
Just before leaving, Sabi mentioned Polly and Miranda’s face lit up. “Oh! Polly! How is he? For the last five years, he has been telling me he’s going to die, he’s going to die. But still going strong, no? Tell him to come meet me!” (Polly died a few months before Miranda.) I couldn’t resist requesting a photo. Miranda immediately said no. “Please,” I tried. “But why are photos so important? I wonder why do we need photos to keep memories… Aren’t experiences enough?” Then suddenly, he changed his mind. “OK, take one fast and don’t publish it.”
*A part of this memoir was published in Goa Streets in 2011
