Milagrin udok nam mugo!! Borem zalem, tuem tugelli baim puroilea num?

As far as I can remember, São João was never celebrated in my village and if I knew anything about São João it was because of that C. Alvares’ song.

Ami Sogle zanvoim vortoutanv, chodda tempan bhetleanv,
São João-chem fest mhunnon ami mavoddea aileanv,
Mateak him kopelam ghalun udok navonk bhair sorleanv,
Aichea dissak voddle ami nokom khuim pauleanv.

São João, São João gunvta mure vatt amkam dissonam,
Aicho dis urbecho konn konnak hansonam,
Choll-re pie-re tum illo ghe-rhê faleam kaim mevonam,
Oslim festam vorsak kiteak don pautti yenam.

As the song explains, this is a song for the sons-in-law to go to their wives’ house for the Feast of São João and be treated like royalty. To my knowledge, no son-in-law from my village has ever been to his wife’s place for São João and has had a lovely time.

It just did not seem to happen.

There were some lackluster celebrations with some jumps in wells but it really was not a concerted effort from the villagers to celebrate it. To my knowledge it was a desultory affair.

 Some years, if my Father felt that there would be revelers, he would keep a bottle of Feni ready, he had decided that if the celebrators made a move to leap into our well, he would hand over the bottle of Feni with a smile and good wishes and request them not to jump into our well.

But luckily for us no reveler felt our well was good enough for fun. Thank God and as is common in today’s parlance, ‘Praise be to God’

We were terribly worried, what if they dirtied our precious well? Even to this day, I shudder at the thought of some drinker soiling my well, even if inadvertently.

So this year, I was in for a rude shock, São João was being celebrated in our Church Ground, Milagrin informed me, ‘Zallim orsam’ but knowing Milagrin it was some sort of exaggeration, maybe it started some years back but São João had sort of sprung up on us, or better said it was forced on us.

Of course I was taken aback, why celebrate something so alien,

‘To keep our traditions alive’ But São João was never, had never been our tradition. Were we now importing traditions?

Hmmmm peculiar was my thought. 

We get to eat local foods like patoleos, dónne, but I eat all this on Khonsachem Fest or The Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary as well as the huge Fest organized by the Tribal Welfare Department.

At this event everything traditional is showcased in a remarkable manner, there is a cultural program, there are handicrafts and amongst all this spectacular array of happenings there is food of every description, Patoleos, dónne, ambil, pêz you just have to take a step back to your childhood, imagine what food you would like to eat and there it is...The Fest is simply spectacular.

So I could not, it was difficult to imagine what connection my village has with São João... But everybody said there is the Rain Dance...

I am curious person, my curiosity knew no bounds. A trip to the Church Grounds and I am immersed in a throng of my villagers, everybody wearing a koppell of flowers and leaves on their head; all the Church associations with sashes across their chests, a variety entertainment program in progress, some locally made traditional sweets, which now can hardly be called unique, for they have been prepared a great man times that they are pretty commonplace and not a drop of rain but a rain dance...

I had heard a lot about these ‘rain dances’ what were they?

Did they wait for a tremendous shower and start going in a trance?

But when I did see the much touted Rain Dance I was filled with a burning anger and horror.

The Rain Dance was nothing but a contraption of pipes in a weird arrangement much like mini showers, you stood under this mini-shower and got drenched.

That was the Rain Dance.

To me it looked ridiculous and contrived, there were screams and screeches, Mothers yanking their reluctant offspring from under the showers, teenagers cavorting under the water in tight T-shirts, ogling middle-aged men their libidos totally out of control, fat women in spaghetti straps trying to look svelte but failing miserably. All this was great fun, but where was all this water from, when there was no rain?

It was then I saw massive water tankers pressed into service, some well had been emptied of its contents a pipe was hooked up to the contraption of the pipes.

I was terribly sad and troubled, here were parts of our country reeling under a terrible scarcity of water, our own state had people walking for miles for some water and here we were under the tutelage of some misinformed Priest cavorting under some showers in the name of a tradition which strictly speaking wasn’t even ours. How could this nincompoop decide on such a non-existent tradition at least in my village, without even a glance at the suffering of so many people? 

Coming to the Wells, a well was dug even before a house was built, so important are they, the wells have however fallen into disuse, their precious water now swabs floors and slakes the thirst of the plants in the garden. I have asked many people,

‘Don’t you use your well?’

No, no’, very sheepishly we use the Government supply.

‘Why’ I ask most obdurately.

Oh I am told the water table is now polluted,’’

‘Do you know the source of the Government supply?’

Nobody does. Of course there are those suggestions to save water,

‘Wash the rice and use the water to water the plants, have a bucket bath not a shower,’

But very rarely have I heard someone saying,

‘Treat your well with respect, clean it regularly and most of all use your well like your ancestors did’. 
That in my opinion would have been the best tradition, particularly after the trying times some parts of my State had with no water for around a week. At this time people would have been ready to use the water even from the filthiest well. Water !!!

Coming back to traditions, is it necessary to import festivals? Why are forcing ourselves to celebrate something which truthfully is not Us? 
Are we promoting this false bonhomie and gaiety to celebrate oneness?

But we have our own Festivals that promote not only oneness but jump right into our traditions, without a thought that it is tradition but an intrinsic part of our lives

We have our very own Khonsanchem Fest that has been celebrated in my village ever since I can remember.

It is the festival of our agrarian lives, paddy and coconut. It is Us and believe me we do not need to pretend.

For my take on the Khonsachem Fest @ https://zorotmorotgoesmyvillage.blogspot.com/2019/01/konsachem-fest.html