Rethinking stereotypes: The Goan 'bhatkar'

In the Goan scheme of things, the 'bhatkar' has long been The Bad Guy.  He is the person who oppresses his tenants, blocks progress, and is generally up to no good.  Besides, he's also abusive and exploitative in many different ways.  Not just financial....

Take a movie like 'Trikal', the Shyam Benegal "alternative" film which is taken to be a rather sensitive portrayal of Goa and Goans.  Yet, look a bit closely at it, and you'll quickly realise that its depiction of the Goan landed gentry is quite uncharitable.  Not only is their patriotism and culture of questionable lineage but so are their morals and ethics.

We have grown used to this depiction over time, and taken it for granted.  This has been the perspective held since the 1960s at least.  As the "New Goa" clashed with the vision of "Old Goa", we were repeatedly told that change and progress were on the side of the former.

Many of us bought into this perspective, without doubt.  It seemed logical and natural.  Even if the evil of the past was exaggerated, and the good of current times was equally played up.

We know that not all change happens  for the better.  And that the politician who is so articulate in promising the sun and the moon to everyone, is mostly (or, almost always) not working in the long-term interest of his (seldom, her) voter.  Above all, we also realise that we have thrown out the baby with the bathwater.

It was refreshing, therefore, to come across a Konkani play the other day, which challenged the notions we have held sacrosanct for the many past decades.  You can interpret Angel de Borim's tiatr "Daiz" in many different ways.  But it struck me as a subversive, challenging piece of work, which makes us question how we understand Goa's recent past.

This is not a new play.  Screened yet once again, this time for the third college-level tiatr competition at the Ravindra Bhavan in mid-September 2023, the play makes its point strongly.

Unfortunately, we in Goa hardly take our playwrights and litterateurs seriously.  But that's not all.  At least Devanagari plays in Konkani in today's Goa (though not as visible as they once were) have the scope to gain some awards and praise, felicitations and more.  But, given the peculiar 'caste system' that governs the hierarchy of our language (dialect and script), writing in Romi matters for little.  Furthermore, the most popular and vibrant form of Konkani theatre -- the tiatr -- is at the very bottom of the heap and counts for nothing.  Such are the ironies of today's Goa.

"Daiz" slowly unfolds on the stage.  It stands on its head all the assumptions we make about today's Goa.  Including, the roles played by different 'actors', and how these interact among themselves.

For a change, the 'bhatkar' (landlord) is not playing a vilified role.  In the play's slow and deliberate unfolding of roles, his stands become clear.  He is seen as the person concerned about the impact "development" is wrecking on a typical Goan village.  In this case, in terms of prawn farming or mining.

Pitted on the other side of the fence are a whole lot of other "actors".  There's the manager pushing for the growth of more investment in the village.  Likewise, the village tenants are quickly convinced that money will bring in happiness, and are willing to take the risk for it.

Even the 'bhatkar's' daughter is on the side opposite to her father.  She is impatient with his approach.  She sees his role as one that is blocking "progress", and is willing to push the line that money can make all the difference to one's life.  Ironically enough, it is an adopted young woman who sees the landlord's foresight for what it is, and goes all out to support it.  But she too gives up her life by the end of the play; the odds are onerous indeed.

How realistic is

this depiction?

In many ways, it was a thought-provoking theme.  It challenges the stereotypes we have about the past and the present.  Beliefs have been assiduously promoted.  To make Goa accept that all "progress" is progress.  That change is necessarily good.

But is it really?

As Goa groans under the burdens of intense "development", we have still to define what exactly this term means.  Does "development" only mean infrastructure, money and economic growth (through figures that reflect on paper)?  Just maximising profits and  minimising costs?  To get bigger salaries, make everyone "richer", and look good in statistics?  Endless construction, more polluted rivers and drains, fields kept uncultivated.  Forests destroyed.  Loss of wildlife, cattle wealth, fertile fields?  Do things really get better for the people involved?  Or are cultures and traditions being decimated?

The landlord in Agnel de Borim's "Daiz" understands that you can't eat money, or feed yourself paper.  Especially when the fields are clogged and fertility declines.  That money supply will grow in the village, but at the cost of our streams and fields, our crops and locally-grown food.  Sadly, the destruction caused doesn't show up in the balance sheet.  The quick earnings do.

Oddly enough, the landlord's tenants are ready to fall in line with the promises made, and this only makes for a tougher situation.  In the 1960s and 1970s, nobody would have believed such a scenario.  But as Goa faces too many speedy changes, all in the name of development, and a loss of the sustainable lifestyles of the past, questions have been asked.

As the porcupines and foxes (or jackals) desert the villages, and peacocks invade areas they were not seen in (due to loss of their habitat), such questions will increasingly come up.  Of course, we don't seem to have a people-friendly economics that puts a price tag on all the sustainable lifestyles lost.

Not long back, to be concerned about the environment was seen as a middle-class plot meant to keep "the people" backwards.  Today, as the trend spreads, and many in rural Goa question what is the real meaning of "development", things are beginning to look different.  Maybe the Matanhy Saldanhas (before aligning with the BJP) and Sergio Carvalhos would have been perceived differently, if they had not come quite a bit before their time.