"And So It Was Written" Part 1: The Balcony

By Tony DeSouza

This is the story of my life full of events and adventure that will fascinate the reader as life was so different then. My children often complained that they had little idea of the land of their ancestors. Whenever we talked about the past and I narrated events that occurred, they would express astonishment and ignorance.Then when I was a teen a fortune teller predicted I would end my life. I took this as a challenge and every time I’m down in the dumps I tell myself this will not happen and I have survived. I want this to be a lesson to all you folks out there who are troubled. Time is the best medicine. Just give yourself another chance. I hope this narrative will help. Finally you will learn about the food, customs and culture of the Christian people from Goa, once a Portuguese colony and now a state in India

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387040186

Book preview

"And So It Was Written" Part 1: The Balcony

And So It Was Written

Part 1: The Balcony

A true story by Tony DeSouza

And So It Was Written

Part 1: The Balcony

Year created:  2017

Author: Tony DeSouza

Copyright:

Publication without the author’s permission is strictly prohibited.

ISPN:  978-1-387-04018-6

Introduction

This book is the story of my life, my autobiography, and is full of events and adventure that will fascinate the reader as life was so different. My children often complained that they had little idea of the land of their ancestors. Whenever we talked about the past and I narrated events that occurred, they would express astonishment.

"Dad, we had no idea. We are so ignorant how things were then. Why don’t you put this in the form of a book?’

And so I have.

When I was a teen a fortune teller predicted I would end my life. I took this as a challenge and every time I’m down in the dumps I tell myself this will not happen and I have survived. I want this to be as a lesson to all you folks out there. Time is the best medicine. Just give yourself another chance.

Some names have been omitted or changed to avoid embarrassment to persons who have played a role in my life and are part of the events in this book. Try not to link any characters to people you may know, living or dead. The purpose of this book is not to criticize anyone or to embarrass anyone and if I have done so I sincerely apologize. This is the story of my life not theirs’ and they are there only in passing.

I have tried to give the facts and any occurrences are events that happened    and are not of my making. So if any narrative is offensive I regret it; one cannot change history.

I am grateful to my family who were a source of inspiration and encouragement along the way.

This book is dedicated to my spouse, the love of my life.

Chapter One       Genesis

I was born full of mischief. I guess I was such a handful; my mother couldn’t handle me and decided to leave this world when I was just a toddler.

We lived in an apartment that had a balcony. They say that I would go on to the balcony and free myself on any passersby below. One guy was so infuriated he came up, banged on the door and raised hell. He was so upset; he actually wanted to kill me. My mother (step mother that is) explained

He's only two and must have gone to the washroom not knowing.

My siblings thought otherwise.

The guy didn’t believe a two year old had golden showered him but finally left.

Now let’s go back to when it all started.

About twenty years earlier, a quiet family lived in a quiet house in a quiet neighborhood, on a quiet narrow street or lane as we called it that branched off the main Frere Street that took all the traffic. Pedestrians, cyclists and the occasional vendor were the only ones that came by.

Frère Street ran from the Empress Market about a mile in one direction to the Cantonment Railway Station at the other end of five or so miles. The trams or street cars ran down the middle of the road with traffic on each side of the tram tracks so this main street was far from quiet.

One really didn’t have to go to the Empress Market as most everything came to ones door steps. The fish monger, the guys with the vegetable and fruit carts, the milkman, the ice cream vendor, the cloth smith, they all came by. There were even women vendors squatted at street corners selling specialty fruits. We called them Marsies (pronounced mar-seas). They all dressed the same way and they were always to be found in front of the schools as their wares attracted children during recess. Their multi colored dress consisted of a tight blouse embodied with glass work with full sleeves and a cloth around the waist like a badly worn sari and a lot of glass bangles on both hands and feet.

Yet most women went to the Empress Market almost daily early mornings to buy meats and a variety of goods that were not delivered to ones door steps and of course to meet old friends and gossip. Some went to the St. Patrick’s Cathedral before sunrise to hear Mass and here again to meet old friends. 

Life was peaceful and slow with little excitement, well almost. Except for the time when the girls were very upset with what had happened with a neighbor.

My God I can’t believe it. Soni doused herself with kerosene and set herself on fire just one week after she lost her husband. cried Marie.

It was a rare ancient Hindu custom to commit sati as it was called if you became widowed.

The Empress Market and the Cathedral were built by the British and foreign Missionaries who ruled the day. These massive structures can be seen even today almost two centuries later. Other noticeable landmarks in Karachi built by the British rulers are the Frere Hall Gardens, the Museum and the Clifton Beach attractions to name a few but more of this later.

This quiet family was a Mom and Dad (Mai and Pai as we referred to them in Konkani), a son and five daughters. The son was then a pre-teen with his sisters all unmarried or should I say not promised to anyone.

You might wonder what I mean by promised?

In those days most all marriages were arranged. But of course among the Goans who were Christians and had been westernized, child marriage was not a part of their culture, unlike the Hindus where children were promised to another family at a very tender age.

The Goans originated as you may have guessed from Goa, a Portuguese territory on the west coast of the Indian sub-continent a few hundred miles south of Bombay (now Mumbai).One travelled from Goa to Bombay by rail or ship and then by sea on to Karachi. The journey was slow and took from a week to ten days.

Some of the children were born in Goa as their mother would often travel to Goa to visit relatives they had left behind. Some years earlier she and her husband had left home in Goa and taken the long slow journey to Karachi to start a new life. Little did they know that another family would make the same journey that was to change their lives forever?

Yes a thousand miles away two brothers were ready to travel the world in search of work and a better life. There was little to do in the village where they lived in the northern part of Goa. The family had a farm with coconut and mango trees by the shores of the river; a beautiful stretch of land to retire on; but not enough for sustenance. So the young men went looking for work and adventure.

The family travelled inland to a place called Hyderabad in a Kingdom run by a Maharaja. There wasn’t much to do here either; so the brothers left their parents and sister behind and decided to make the journey to the north. They had heard that many other Goans had travelled to better lands and were making good money. Some had found work in Bahrain, Kuwait, Aden and Basra in the oil rich Arabian Peninsula while others had gone even further. Their cousins were in Bombay and other cousins had settled far away in Nairobi, Kenya.

Now they had friends from the village who had settled in Karachi and had established clubs to help other young people who wished to make the journey. The clubs were named after Christian saints so you had clubs like St Peter’s Club, St. Anthony’s Club; after all the clubs were also a place to pray and socialize.

The brothers would have found temporary lodging at one such club and before long they found work. The older brother Sebastian got work as a clerk at an Engineering College where he would rise to the position of Office Superintendent. The younger brother worked at the Karachi Harbor where he would soon rise to manage facilities at the docks.

Contacts and influence play a big part in both social life and work. It was probably at a club that the brothers met a violinist who performed at social events. The violinist was an uncle to the girls at the quiet family and before long the older brother got a proposal to marry the eldest girl in the family. Soon after, the younger brother married one of the sisters.

Sebastian and Assumption had three children before I was born. Then my mother fell ill and passed away. Left alone with three children to care for, the matriarch of the family asked the next eldest girl if she would like to