HEART-TO-HEART By Ethel Da Costa
Give Back When You Receive There was once a huge dragon in China who went from village to village killing cattle and dogs and chicken and children indiscriminately. So the villagers called upon a wizard to help them in their distress. The wizard said, "I cannot slay the dragon myself for, magician though I am, I am too afraid. But I shall find you the man who will." With that he transformed himself into a dragon and took up position on a bridge so everyone who did not know it was the wizard was afraid to pass. One day, however, a traveler came up to the bridge, calmly climbed over the dragon and walked on. The wizard promptly took on his human shape again and called to the man, "Come back, my friend. I have been standing here for weeks waiting for you!" The enlightened know that fear is in the way you look at things not in the things themselves. The Prayer Of The Frog by Anthony de Mello. Years ago, when my dad sat me down for a chat; you know, just as you're setting foot into a canoe in untested waters wearing rose petals on your eyes, he let me know one simple value: No matter where you go, remember where you come from. Brushing it aside then as old-world worn-out philosophy -- because I could never figure out why he chose to come back to his village, and not some fancy town, after years being abroad -- his simple wisdom holds me in good stead today, as I watch Goa racing on her way to the finish line. Most times, as I watch unfamiliar faces digging Goa for the goldmine of opportunities, while Goans still struggle waiting to be recognized for their potential. People who come and go, sing for a living, or write for the soul. Make music, live their aspirations and march on into another abode. Unsung heroes, unrecognized heroines, prodigies that might have been, but never discovered. The wasted Booker Prize because of a lack of self faith. The lost Pulitzer Prize because we never dared. No run for the Grammy because we didn't work or try hard enough, or worse, even cared. Wasted chances waiting for the big break, while ignoring the grind of small opportunities to refuel ambition as stepping stones. Would be winners who gave up half-way, boggled by criticism because their self-worth depends on what others have to say, but listening to their own voices. You meet them in the market. You share shoulder space in the bus. Drinking themselves silly at a party, or wasting their dreams on Ecstasy. Life's greatest journey begins when you face fear and deal with it, Bono reminds. Even as I shun funerals and weddings in the same order, even as death and divorce jostle for elbow space. The fear of the unknown sometimes shackles our feet. `What will others say, huh'? And there goes a career that would have been as an actress, rock star, rocket scientist? But life stops for nobody. Old faces you bumped into and took for granted, because they were always around. August Braganza, Manoharao Sardessai, Umesh Mahambre, Anuj Joshi . people I knew and grew up with. My father, steady as a rock, silent as the wind, whose presence after four years I still miss dearly. Suddenly you grow up, you realize time is running out, you realize you've wasted precious moments `faffing' around the place, keeping company with mindless chatter, directionless people, ego-trippers, losers or `back-pack' riders when you could put talent, gifts and strength to test. Far too many young people are wasting their time wanting to walk in someone else's shoes. What about setting benchmarks, breaking a few rules? And then, go ahead, break more rules and write your own. But, above all, live without fear, of having tried even in the face of failure. Where are these idealistic dare-devils? Dr Judea Pearl, father of slain American journalist Daniel Pearl, has me believe that fear has no place in the abode of angels. "Heaven is getting slippery," he warns me repeatedly, on our long email chats, "so girdle your spirit for more challenges," he adds. Even as he looks forward to the film production of `A Mighty Heart,' on his slain son, while in Goa my band mates plan the musical composition of our song, `Danny Was Murdered,' commemorated to the politics of world peace. I meet many people who constantly complaint the raw deal Goa gives her young citizens. Instead, I would like Goa's young people to try hard and never give up. I laugh when people waste precious time debating who will fill up Remo's well-worn and well-earned shoes, when bands, singers and artists work hard to make their own mark, their own music, their own brand, while we're busy looking to the West for heroes, failing to give recognition where talent deserves, when they are alive. Ordinary people with extraordinary talent, with hunger in their bellies, we need to cheer them on. And support, if we can't rise up to give the shoulder. It is this talent that Goa must invest in. Polish, shape, hone and present to the world. Pick them up, dust the struggle off their shoulders and make use of our privileged positions, chairs and networking to create spaces. When the voices gather momentum, even the mighty begin to quake. Let's give the powers-that-be a run for their money. Only then, the yesteryear trailblazers of Goa would have rested a peaceful journey. (ENDS) ==================================================== The above article appeared in the October 3, 2006 edition of the Herald, Goa _______________________________________________ Goanet mailing list Goanet@lists.goanet.org http://lists.goanet.org/listinfo.cgi/goanet-goanet.org
