Having finished with the day’s work in the fields I drove back home with my 40 year old but faithful fiat. Actually speaking in the true sense of the word it can be termed as ‘Neighbour’s envy owner’s pride’. Parking the old dame in the garage I called out to my better half ‘Darling I have a surprise for you. Would you mind coming down and having a look ?’ I screamed out loud like an eighteen year old. ‘Your surprises don’t surprise me anymore. I have lots to do and I don’t have any time for your surprises’ she retorted from top.
But never the one to give up, I somehow coaxed her again and my better half walked down to the garage. ‘So where’s the surprise?’ She asked looking directly at me. Hold your breath and shut your eyes for a moment. I moved her towards the car dickey and like a Magician in a flourish I opened the old dame’s back side to reveal the surprise I had for her.
‘What is all this ?’ she asked with a even bigger surprise in her voice and anger on her cute nose. ‘Watermelons! Watermelons from our fields’ I replied with a sense of pride. ‘I know they are watermelons, I can’t be so blind as to think that they are cannons. But why so many ? You could have brought home just two for the family to relish. Selling them all would have fetched you more income.’
‘Go to hell with the income, I am not doing this for income or earning a fortune as much as I am doing it for pleasure and to keep the good old village tradition alive. These are twenty watermelons’ I said admiring my fruit of labour filling the car dickey.
‘And why so many, may I ask?’
-‘You are now coming to the point. You see, I thought I would offer two of these to my next door neighbor Magdalien, in return for all those lovely luscious papayas she sends me every papaya season. I intend to offer two to Franskin. She never forgets to compliment us with those lovely juicy Mankcurada mangoes ever summer season.
‘Are there any men folk on your offer list’ she retorted with a mischievous smile.
-‘Wait a minute…I am still not done with. I am going to send two watermelons to Pandurang our Panch. Remember he helped me with de-silting the nullah next to our fields. If not for him, our fields would have got inundated with all the filth flowing down the same.’
-‘How can I forget my local MLA ? The last time he helped me to get subsidy to buy the water pump and a small gen-set. I am sending him 4 watermelons with the hope that he will help me market my products next year directly to the horticulture outlets. Then I can call myself a progressive farmer. ’
-‘not a bad idea after all ’ .
‘Wait don’t interrupt, I may forget the most important person on my list of beneficiaries. And this will come as a still bigger surprise for you……I am going to send 10 watermelons to our beloved Chief Minister ’ I said with a chuckle in my voice.
– ‘Oh good Lord ! Mia Culpa…..Mia Culpa. What are you up to? Are you thinking of joining politics after your retirement?’
-‘You won’t understand my strategy. This is what I call the ‘Watermelon Diplomacy’ for growth and progress. All that I want from the Chief Minister is to make a financial provision in the next State budget proposals to give a boost to watermelon farming. We have to protect this ancestral traditional occupation of watermelon harvesting handed down to us from generations. It needs good financial support. Unless the Government is supportive and floats schemes and offers subsidies, nothing will happen. He will be surprised to know that I am holding the original seeds of the best know variety of watermelons in Goa handed down to me by my great grandfather. The genealogy has to be protected and preserved and passed down to the next generation. We can then export our Goan watermelons to China just like the way we import their toys and apples from them’.
-My better half was not much amused with my lecture. Lecturers usually don’t appreciate being lectured by others, least of all their spouse. I could hear her mutter ‘Watermelon Diplomacy’……..my foot. You are wasting my time and your energy’ as she walked up the wooden staircase leading upstairs.
‘Just then my winged Nepalee pet ‘Jango’ screamed from the balcony window with a screech in his voice ‘Wake up boss…….its morning. Good morning……..boss.’
I blinked my eyes and looked out of the blanket. It was bright in the room. I could see Jango outside spreading his wings and stretching his leg. The electronic clock on the wall struck 7 O’Clock. ‘Oh no….its Monday again. Cursing Jango below my breath I jumped out of the comfort of my bed to begin yet another long week ahead’.
Daniel F. de Souza
Danielde Blog 