MAPUSA
In an era where even basic essentials seem to be slipping out of the common man’s budget, one man in Mapusa quietly rewrote the economics of compassion.
While coconuts – Goa’s staple and symbolic fruit – were selling at a wallet-pinching Rs 60 apiece this Ganesh Chaturthi, a Mapusa-based social worker chose to turn the tide. He sold them for Rs 2.
Yes, Rs 2. And no, it wasn’t a gimmick.
It wasn’t a sponsored CSR event or a political stunt.
It was just Yogesh Kelkar, an engineer by profession and a businessman by trade, doing what he has done for five consecutive years now – offering the humble coconut back to the people, at a price that speaks more of empathy than economics.
A ritual born of a pandemic
What began as a spontaneous act of compassion during the brutal Covid-19 lockdowns of 2020 has since become a quiet ritual for Kelkar who believes small, sincere gestures can still mean something.
“Coconut is not a luxury here. It’s everyday food. It’s chutney, it’s curry, it’s prasad,” says Kelkar, standing beside a counter.
“If we can bring a little relief to someone before a festival, that’s more satisfying than any business deal I’ve done,” he says.
This year alone, he distributed nearly 8,500 coconuts in just two evenings, allowing only adults above 18 to queue up and capping it at five per head.
The line spilled onto the main road, compelling local police to call up Kelkar.
A festival and a quiet kindness
With Ganesh Chaturthi just around the corner – a time when coconuts are cracked open by the hundreds as offerings – the symbolic and practical weight of Kelkar’s gesture hit home for many.
“I had planned to skip making traditional modaks this year because the coconut price was too much. But when I heard about this Rs 2 coconut, I felt like Bappa himself sent it!” admits Anita Naik, a homemaker from nearby Parra who stood in line for over an hour.
Another man in the queue, a taxi driver from Ucassaim, had a simpler reason: “We don’t have caste or religion in this line. Just the need to take something home and feed the family.”
Kelkar makes no distinction between Goans and migrants, Hindus and Muslims, old and young – except that children aren’t allowed to queue up. “This is not charity. This is just community,” he says.
How does he pull it off?
For those wondering where one man can source 8,500 coconuts in the middle of a price crisis – the answer lies in Kelkar’s grassroots ties.
He buys them in bulk directly from local farmers and occasionally from sub-yards when stocks allow. No government grant, no NGO label, no social media campaigns.
“I don’t put up banners. I tell a few friends, and the rest is word of mouth. That’s how trust works,” he smiles.
Five years, countless blessings
Now in its fifth year, the initiative has snowballed in size. Kelkar says this year’s crowd was double that of 2023 – a sign not only of soaring prices but also of growing faith in grassroots generosity.
And as the line thinned on the second evening and the last few coconuts were handed out with calm efficiency, one couldn’t help but wonder – in a season of commercialism and excess – if the most radical thing you can do is sell a coconut for less than the cost of a boiled egg.
