Militarymen, Medicines and More: Echoes from the Goan community in the Belgaum of Another Era
Marcos Gomes Catao cata...@yahoo.com A veteran Goan shares his memories of growing up in Belgaum in the 1940s. Octogenarian Marcos Gomes Catao is based in Australia. Other members of his family have been prominent educationists (the late principal Fr Vincent Gomes-Catao SJ), historians and others. I attended St. Paul's between 1942-46 when this school in Belgaum (today called Belagavi) was in its halcyon days, at its apogee with a student body that was the envy of the town, 'crème de la crème. But then, everyone has the right to extol his time, doesn't he? The Brazilians call it Puxar a sardinha para a sua brasa (i.e. Pull the sardines to your own fire). In those days there was no politically correct molly-coddling: so, there was intense competition in sports, unrivalled striving for scholarship, participation in debates and stage-craft. Everyone wanted to top, and to succeed. That is why the years flew so fast that before you were aware of it, you were out of school and heading for college. The nadir in my school years? There was one, and it happened in sports. In the inter-class annual tournament, I volunteered as a substitute goalie. The game was proceeding desultorily until I took the first goal. Then, somehow, one of the opponents, Joe Mendonca I think it was, guessed I was endowed with an uncanny ability to misjudge, and so, with equally uncanny precision, he started lobbying the ball millimetres below the horizontal bar, expecting that my leap would come a split second too early, and that, as a result, the ball would breeze through smilingly, in the gap left by my premature drop. He was right! After that it was a massacre, an unmitigated disaster, goal after goal! We ended up 0-5. A sunshine day? Yes, there was one, in the first week of June 1946: I was attending evening service at St. Anthony's Church, standing at the doorway (because of the small size of the church, ladies occupied the benches and the men accumulated, standing, at the back). I felt a tap on my shoulder. I ignored it, believing it to be an accidental shove due to the agglomeration. Seconds later, a second tap. I turned and saw Cyril D'Lima, two years my senior, subtly trying to extend his hand to me. Seeing my non-plussed mien, he whispered sotto voce, "Congratulations, you have won the Latin Scholarship". His father being in the Telegraphs in those days when communication was still by Morse receivers and transmitters, he had intercepted the message from Bombay to the school conveying the information. It was like a real gift from Heaven: almost four years of free college education, in an era when free education was hardly a norm! Since the Bombay University Matriculation examination was substituted soon afterwards by the SSC Board Exam, I am not aware whether the 'Sir Cowasji Jehangir' Latin Scholarship, the 'Mons. Delgado' Portuguese Scholarship and the French Scholarship, all awarded to the student who stood first in the subject in the Matriculation exam, was continued or not, since the original endowment must have been to the University. Though the less generous financially than the other two, the Latin Scholarship was considered more prestigious, being fought for quite fiercely especially by the Bombay and Poona schools. And so on to Lingaraj College and by 1951 on to the real world of labour. I militated throughout my working life in the human health products industry (pharmaceuticals, diagnostics and medical-surgical), first in Bombay, followed by Delhi for three years, transferred to Singapore covering Malaysia, Vietnam and Cambodia and, the Philippines later. In 1970 transferred to Sao Paulo (Brazil), initially responsible for the country affairs and then, the whole of Latin America. Belgaum provided an immense contribution to the educational and social development of Goans, particularly in the 1938-1968 decades, perhaps in some measure due to its physical contiguity with Goa. True, compared with Bombay and Poona, Belgaum was less blasé, too provincial a town. But, it made up the deficiency by the more closely knit community imposed by the smaller physical space within which it was contained. Like all British military stations in India, Belgaum was divided into the Cantonment and the City. The Goan community was confined almost entirely to the Cantonment area so that, going about one's business, one got the impression one was at home in Goa. The Goans in Belgaum comprised a motley lot: there were the Government employees working especially in the Telegraphs, Railways, Excise, etc; a fair sized contingent of 'refugees', people who had fled from Rangoon with the advance of the Japanese in Burma; then there were the Afrikanders i.e. families whose bread-earner laboured in Africa mainly (Aden, the Persian Gulf, were other places) while the wife looked after the educational and integral development of the children in Belgaum; there were the young men and women who, after finishing schooling in Goa had to come out to continue their higher studies; there were also the 'birds of passage', who in April came to Belgaum to appear for the Matriculation (later, SSC) examination as the Portuguese Government did not permit such examination centres in Goa. Belgaum, however, had not been planned for a Catholic community in mind. There were only two small churches: the Goa Church, called so because it belonged to the Padroado i.e. to the Archdiocese of Goa, and St. Anthony's, a church built for the South Indian ayahs, khansamahs, cooks, etc who largely tended to the needs of the British civil and military establishments. The problem was solved by having the boys go to the School chapel and the girls to the Convent chapel on Sundays. The difficulty arose on Christmas day, for the midnight Mass. The Mass was therefore held 'open air' in the school compound, since it was at three levels, with the altar mounted at the highest level. A row of chairs at that level was also set up for the VIPs, among whom the British military officers in gala uniform, Sam Browne and all, with their wives in long dresses, lent a splendid colour to the occasion. But, Belgaum being situated at almost 800 metres above sea-level, the temperature in the open was not too comfortable or conducive to light clothing. So, everyone was well clad. Belgaum, however, was not a mecca because of its churches but because of its educational institutions, among which St. Paul's held the primacy. It was the guiding philosophy of the school based on the Latin motto 'Mens sana in corpore sano' (a sound mind in a sound body) that led to the cult of excellence at the school. Participation in sporting activities was fostered to the maximum and almost every student, as a result, was in school after school hours, for recreation, facilitated by the fact that most lived within walking distance of the school. A driving force behind the sports was Fr. C.S. Saldanha, who was not only a good player himself (at 65 he was still playing with his soutane tucked up at the waist) but, more importantly, as a military chaplain, interacted closely with the British officers of the Mahratta Light Infantry, thus enabling frequent games to be played: practice makes perfect! As a result, St. Paul's boys were perennial semi-finalists at the annual local Pujari Hockey Tournament together with the Army, the Police and the Railways. The St. Paul's youngsters strove valiantly against the stalwarts of the Army or the Police and sometimes carried the day and the trophy. Several of them went on to play for the University or other countries, at least one having represented Kenya in the Olympics. The winter of '43 was particularly proficuous in games, mostly football, as a battalion of the Lancashire Cross-key Regiment (so called because they had two crossed keys on their shoulder straps) had come to Belgaum on R & R (rest and recreation). They had a burly, vivacious and gregarious Padre who himself was a good player and got on famously with Fr. Saldanha. So there were endless games. Moreover, they had come at the time of the annual Fancy Fete and participated actively in it, charming everyone with their generosity. Unfortunately, all of a sudden, the Japanese began advancing fast in Burma, threatening Calcutta. The Regiment's R & R was summarily cancelled and they were rushed off to the front. There they were wiped out to a man. It took several weeks to get over the tragedy, such the bond created in such a short while. That winter was one of despondency and discontent for another reason too: the untimely passing away of two Goan Matriculation boys, one from typhoid and the other allegedly from cancer resulting from a kick in the inner thigh during a football game. The cemetery in Belgaum was a good half-hour's walk away, snaking through the military zone. As the funeral cortège wove through, the schoolboys, two abreast, leading the way, five British officers were coming to the downtown cinema. As they approached and passed the bier, they snapped to attention on their bicycles, with a smart salute, in a tribute and gesture of military etiquette that captivated our young minds and made a lasting impression for weeks thereafter. But St. Paul's was not all play to make Jack a dull boy. It excelled in scholarship and its students scored very high in the University (later, Board) exams, winning medals and scholarships. There was a cadre of outstanding and devoted teachers like Fr. Coelho in English and Mr. Lobo in Maths. The latter in particular, opened my eyes to the beauty of Maths when I had become rather indifferent to it due to the lacklustre teaching of the previous teacher. Mr. Lobo was a patient and out of the mill solver of problems, never for once losing his cool. Whenever someone behaved unbecomingly, he would merely say, "If everyone did the same, how would I look?" It was enough to shame the culprit. Another notable staff member was Bro. Freitas who literally, like the mythical Atlas, carried St. Paul's on his shoulders. He was a clerk, accountant, P.R., general factotum and, above all, a good ensemblist (if I may coin the word). I understand that later on, feeling his work not adequately appreciated, he left the Society but continued to work, as a layman, in St. Xavier's College office, as I was given to understand by ex-Xavierites. My initiation into, and fondness for, classical music begun by the yearly execution of Handel's Messiah at Easter, by the Mapuçá church choir was consolidated and furthered by the tripod of Bro. Cyril Freitas, the Mahratta Light Infantry band and the Italians. At the semi-annual school concerts, and on other occasions, Bro. Freitas was able to assemble and train a group of musicians to produce sounds from Heaven, the yearly staple being Hungarian Dance No. 5. This fondness of mine was strengthened by the MLI band diffusing elysian, soul-stirring strains at the monthly dinner dance at the Officers' Mess. Of the Italians, more later. Like all Goan communities worldwide, social events played a great role in Belgaum Gaum. Throughout the year there was one event or another, be it whist-drives, or concerts or fancy fetes. During the Christmas season, one went round carol singing and there always was the much vaunted Christmas Ball everyone used to look forward to. There were also other celebrations. The visit of the statue of Our Lady of Fatima occasioned a plethora of religious happenings. So too did the visit of Valerian Cardinal Gracias of Bombay. The visit of the Patriarch of Goa, D. José da Costa Nunes, was more subdued, possibly because his area of work was restricted to the Goa Church, which fell within his jurisdiction. But he was a man with a distinguished personality and sharp intellect. He was a brilliant speaker (in Portuguese only) and would keep you spellbound for hours without ennui. He later became a Cardinal and, at the time of the death of Pope Paul VI was Cardinal Camerlengo and, as such, responsible for the three little knocks on the forehead with a silver mallet to certify the death (a practice since abolished), and in the governance of the Church in the interim 'Sede vacante' period, together with other senior Cardinals. In 1949, we staged a mock trial of the scientists responsible for building the first atom bomb such as Lise Meitner, Enrico Fermi, Otto Bahr, Oppenheimer, Oliphant, etc. For weeks, three of us burnt the midnight oil in a room graciously ceded by the school, working on the script, and weeks thereafter getting the play together like casting, stage set-up and illumination, etc. Surprisingly, it was a big success, we did not expect as we did not believe the local Goan community would be so responsive to such a political subject. Come April, all Goan hearts started to get aflutter: the holidays were on the horizon and, with them, the annual exodus home to Goa. There was only one convenient mode of transport from Belgaum to Goa in those times, the railway. One boarded that midnight broad gauge Poona-Bangalore Express and then changed to the narrow gauge train from Londa to Vasco. As might be expected, the rush was terrific as one sought to find a place in the wagons in any possible way. At times, since two wagons were attached to the main train at Belgaum, the knack was to find out where in the railway yard those wagons lay and then to make a bee-line for them. If successful, one waited there for two/three hours, in pitch dark, until they were shunted and attached to the train that had arrived. From Londa onwards, the rush diminished somewhat as the gross of the incoming train passengers had proceeded on to Bangalore. In end-May the reverse journey took place but, this time, full of apprehension and distress because the Inspectors and sepoys of H.M. Customs at Castle-Rock (the Customs post) were rather nasty and rude. Their concept of Official Service was resumed in the words: "Good service is in direct proportion to the harassment you can inflict on the person". No sooner did the train arrive, the doors of all compartments were locked so that each one was examined by turns. Items that were most looked askance at were: liquours (almost invariably everyone came back with a bottle or two of Macieira, a favourite Portuguese brandy then, besides feni, whisky, etc), cigarettes, cosmetics and perfumery. They did not make too much fuss about sausages, chocolates, ball-cheese, etc. I used to have my heart racing like a Formula I driver's because I was very fond of a perfume called 'Evening in Paris' which I used to bring in my pocket as it was a very tiny blue bottle. Fortunately, I never got caught nor searched. The early forties were the war years and Belgaum was an important cog in the war machine: it was the Regimental centre of the Mahratta Light Infantry and had an Officers' Training School, both British and Indian. There was also part of a British battalion whose parades we liked to go watch because they had a Sergeant-Major who was pint-sized but had the voice of thunder. We were always intrigued as to how a man so small could produce a volume so high! In August '42 we saw several platoons of the MLI men marching to the City (the City was normally out-of-bounds for the troops) and wondered what was happening. Then we heard volleys of shots being fired and realized they must have gone to quell the disturbances that had arisen following the 'Quit India' Resolution that had been passed by the Indian National Congress, leading to the jailing of most of its leaders. The disturbances lasted three days and then quiet returned. The Goans did not face any serious problems as such because of the war but there were minor inconveniences such as rationing and censorship of mail going to Goa. Queues at the ration shops were sometimes long and the items offered inadequate in variety and quantity. So barter was not uncommon. I know we at home did not fancy jowar flour and so exchanged it for wheat flour with our local servant, who found wheat too weak. Sugar was another item in much short supply, a particularly significant sacrifice for me, for whom normally the dessert was the main course and the main course, the dessert. We did experience a tragedy as a class, however. One of our classmate's parents were returning to Africa after their India furlough and the ship was sunk, presumably by German U-boats, and they perished together with the youngest child. He had to leave us for Goa where he continued his studies. Periodically, as they finished their training, the jawans of the Mahratta Light Infantry would march off to the war front, first in North Africa and then, Italy. The way to the station whence they embarked passed by the school. So, curious crowds would collect along the festooned route to watch them depart, officers decked in marigold garlands and jawans' green twigs in their helmets. The synchronous cadence of their sparkling boots clattering on the deliquescent asphalt resounded steadily with the boom of their clarion-call, battle-cry gory Left-right, left-right German-ku maddya (Let us kill the Germans) German-ku maddya, German-ku German-ku maddya interspersed with a blood curdling Chatrapathi Shivaji Maharaj ki jai or alternating with the plangent strains of bag-pipes droning for these brave boys being borne across the wide world and watery ways to engage in mortal combat earning evanescent glory (laurels and spurs and little more) as quid pro quo for death's amity hoary. In our youthful exuberance we revelled in the tamasha, giving little thought to the fact that many of these would never return and some would come back maimed or crippled for life. As 1944 ended, and there appeared some light on the Western Front tunnel, two impressive events took place in Belgaum. The first was the visit of the Italians. There were several PoW camps spread all over India and, from among these, people were selected to form bands for the entertainment of the troops. One such band came to Belgaum. The show was strictly for military personnel and invitees. But, by dint of smart 'legerdepieds' I managed to slip in and ensconce myself in a suitable corner. The Italians played with extraordinary verve and 'molto con amore'. The sounds they produced plucked at the heartstrings. They were accompanied by a soprano who sang the usual arias by Verdi and Puccini. More remarkable than her singing, however, was the person herself: massive and well endowed in the upper storey, she had on an extremely low cut gown and so, as she modulated her voice up and down, her bosom heaved accordingly, accompanying the movements, to everyone's merriment. I observed that even the senior British military officers had difficulty retaining their composure and refraining from outright laughter. But, that was a distraction. What mattered was the music. And, at that, the Italians were masters. They might have been lousy fighters, those Italians (in North Africa they surrendered in droves without firing a shot even to mere platoons of British or Indian soldiers) but they were magnificent purveyors of celestial manah: with bated breath we savoured every scintillating note, that vice-like constricted the heart producing spasms of painful pleasure. Their superb rendering of Chopin waltzes, and even s simple piece like Toselli's Serenade linger to this days in my ears, almost sixty years later, and at times haunt me on sleepless nights. The second event was more seminal. A colleague of my sister's fell ill and was admitted to the Military Hospital with a diagnosis of typhoid. In those days, typhoid was a dreaded disease because the treatment was long-drawn and empirical consisting of bed rest, twice daily baths (in tubs that had to be carried to the bedside, together with the water), a bland diet allegedly to forestall intestinal perforation, and prescribed mixtures. As a rule, treatment lasted a laborious fifteen to twenty days. What was not our surprise therefore to see the young lady back in six days regaling us with stories of how she had had chicken soup and ice-cream at the hospital! Our reaction was two-fold: either the British doctors treating her were stark mad or she was telling us Arabian fables. Neither was true, however. She was indeed being truthful. She had been treated with a new drug that was to revolutionize typhoid therapy. She was the first person in Belgaum to be treated with chloramphenicol. We had witnessed the beginning of a new era in medicine. Thereafter in my career I had the privilege, either as a direct participant or an onlooker, of being a witness to some extraordinary forward steps in the field of medicine that have led to saving the lives of millions of people. First came the field of hypertension. For centuries indigenous medicine practitioners in India had used the roots of a plant to treat hypertension. But, it took the technical skill and resources of a Swiss firm to isolate the alkaloid in that root that concentrated the hypotensive action. That plant was Rauwolfia serpentina and the finished product ushered in a new era in the therapy of the disease. There was an interesting, though unpleasant, sideline to the introduction of the product. The Swiss Head Office had mailed to doctors in India a card which showed a man cleaning another's ears sitting on the street. This was deemed as denigrating the image of the country and calls arose for the company to be closed down or even expelled. This storm in a tea-cup subsided through the influence of one of the company's executives, who happened to be the Prime Minister's nephew-in-law! This was followed by the dawn of the steroid era. Kendall and associates in the USA were the first in the race and were able to present their company Cortisone, primarily for the treatment of rheumatoid arthritis. Its high price and side effects militated against its gaining widespread popularity. Headlines in the popular press touted loudly, with pictures, of the main side effects which thus became familiar to even laymen e.g. moon-face and buffalo back. Progress was rapid thereafter in synthesizing safer and less expensive derivatives viz. Hydrocortisone and Prednisone. But, even these, to this day, continue having undesirable effects. The second division in the company I worked for represented one of the major French companies that had already locked horns with the Swiss company in the field of hormones, especially female hormones, attracted by the 'gorgeous' (Gorgeous in the sense of disgorging, exploitative) prices being charged by it due to its monopolistic position. And thus, indirectly, we were in the field of steroids. Soon after came relief for diabetics, haunted by the spectre of daily insulin injections, with the introduction of oral hypogycemic agents, the Germans probably being first with their sulfonyureas. Millions of diabetics must have celebrated with unbounded joy being freed from the tyranny they were subjected to till then. This trend to oral treatment was further reinforced by the introduction of a second line of products called biguanides, pioneered by the Americans. A French company with a research laboratory headed by Dr. Stern was able to synthesize a differente biguanide from that of the American viz. Phenformin. We represented that company and so had a great launching marathon. Dr. Stern came down to India and we had meetings of local medical councils in over half a dozen important cities where I accompanied him. Among the cities visited was Beneras, though not particularly famous in the field of Medicine despite it being home to the Benares Hindu University, it was a focal tourist point Dr. Stern was keen on visiting! The product has now become standard therapy in diabetes. In the company I moved to after leaving my first job, which specialized in antibiotics, a great effort had been put in to discover something new, not mere improvements of existing ones. After a period of self-doubt when help of another laboratory was sought through a sharing agreement, the work was crowned with success and a new antibiotic was born. That was Rifampicin which is now frontline treatment in TB. In the field of surgery, astounding steps forward were taken. Dr. Christian Bernard's pioneering work in the cardiovascular field opened a 'Brave New World' (apologies to Aldous Huxley for appropriating his words) for millions of heart patients through open-heart surgery, heart transplants, etc. Simultaneously surgeons in the field of plastic surgery were able to achieve marvels with the help of new materials, especially silicone, with breast augmentation, etc. and finger joint replacements. A little seed in relentless growth! Nineteen forty-five ushered in the end of the war. There were celebrations galore victory parades, celebration balls, etc Every Tommy looked forward to going back home. Auld Lang Syne floated in the air. There were two consequences to the end of the war and the subsequent Independence of India. The departure of the British military and civil personnel led to the almost total emptying of the Anglican congregation, barely a dozen families, mainly Anglo-Indian, being left behind to hold the fort. And, hold the fort they did so much so that years later when the Belgaum Catholic diocese was formed, an offer was made to buy the edifice, which was repeatedly and stubbornly refused. A new Cathedral had to be built from scratch. Secondly, the dulcet sounds we had accustomed ourselves to, floating from the Officers' Mess every month slowly waned and, step by step, as the officers trained at Sandhurst and thus somewhat attuned to Western music and ball-room dancing ebbed away, disappeared altogether, possibly substituted by Indian music. Belgaum itself was progressing. A new college had been opened some time earlier, headed by none other than Prof. F. Correia-Afonso. An engineering college followed suit. In the meanwhile, a subtle change was taking place in the Goan segment of the population. From the 1960s, Goan families in East Africa either began moving lock, stock and barrel to the UK or Canada or, at least, sending their children to the UK for studies. This resulted in the slow diminution of Afrikanders in Belgaum. Moreover, after 1961, good schools and colleges started proliferating in Goa itself and students from there did not need to come to Belgaum. On the contrary, families from Belgaum started going back to Goa. By the end of the decade, therefore, the Goan population had decreased appreciably and, though there were the die-hard ones and those well established there to think of moving, the curtain was at last being drawn on a prominent Goan chapter in Belgaum. Footnote: This article woven together from several articles in the author's book *Feuilles Mortes*. https://amzn.to/2RAtLGg -- Goanet Reader is compiled and edited by Frederick Noronha (fredericknoron...@gmail.com) Interestingly-written articles relating to Goa and its diaspora may be submitted for possible circulation. Goanet is a volunteer-driven network and is currently in its 25th year of operation; since all work is voluintary, we do not pay writers, but do promise a wide readership.