Re: [Goanet] StyleSpeak: The Art of Noise
Two dorgis, one knife hoping to tame the ghost eh? You are giving me ideas now. What if the ghost was in a bikini ya? My pet pigling Catrina is rolling in laughter! Just by the way, there is just one tourist ghost that shows (from what I have heard in my wanderings).when the sand dunes were around in Baga; a woman (foreigner) would show herself and disappear behind the dunes...apparently in the afternoons if I am not mistaken, wearing white. Yes so true, in the 'good old days' one heard the noise of the breaking waves even in Joe-UK-Utorda's Majorda. I was there t'day when the tide was comming inall one heard is the greasy Kas*m*ris hounding the tourists. Yoga my friends, yoga can cut the noise out, through meditation. I am time passin tru Vascu on my summa holidays..and guess what, on any given day, at an unearthly hour three places of worship (same religion) begin their loud speaker notice, call to prayer...at 5:30 AM or maybe earlier...two from Bina, one from Mangor. And on a Saturday, the moment the first group is done, a different religion takes over (from one source, thankfully). Then on a Sunday, the third religious place of worship (I do not think there are any Goichis left in Vascu) does its call on loud speakers. Phew,yaar, Too much no? I would think with so much religion going, folks in Vascu would be nice, kind and show a little humility or something no? Guess what...blasting of religious noises does nothing to their soulor do they have one, I guess! Go to a bank, the municipality or even stand in line for the vibrating Kadhamba express Vascu-Ponji: everyone is cutting the queue, jumping the line. Everyone is still G for greedy, aiming for the extra buck, hook nor crook no matter. My politician neighbour (very religious) cannot find the Municipal garbage disposal boxes; they throw their into my small property Pandu-Sawantwadi-Misssissauga On Thu, Mar 11, 2010 at 2:51 PM, Floriano Lobo wrote: > The other day it was Dr. Ferdinando dos Reis Falcão writing about loud > music Noise pollution. Now it is Wendell Rodricks. > > > Cheers > floriano > goasuraj > 9890470896 > www.goasu-raj.org > > > > On Thu, Mar 11, 2010 at 9:41 AM, Wendell Rodricks > wrote: >> StyleSpeak: The Art of Noise >> By Wendell Rodricks >> >>
Re: [Goanet] StyleSpeak: The Art of Noise
The other day it was Dr. Ferdinando dos Reis Falcão writing about loud music Noise pollution. Now it is Wendell Rodricks. Today I was requested to attend the meeting with the Collector (North) by some of the HC instituted committee members against noise pollution to hand in a memorandum with regard to Nite-Club IVY at Baga (belonging to Calangute MLA Agnelo Fernandes) which has re-started its late-nite partying well outside of the premises disturbing the already taxed peaceful ambience of the vicinity. This has been made possible by the new regulation where the Home Ministry has taken charge to issue licences to night parties, including raves. Now it is that much easier to get cracking with a rave party than before with the blessings of the Home Ministry, more specifically the Home Minister, who will be a notch richer by the night. Wendell has struck the right chord and it has made me look up, surprised. He has invoked the word 'SANITY' Let me add two more words before it to make it real 'People for Political Sanity' Only this can ensure that the sea waves breaking over Chapora hills will be heard not only in Colvale but also in Moira, again, like they used to be heard when I was a small boy too, a long long time ago. I challenge Wendell to take up this potent 'PPS' issue and trash it until all these 'mad political rascals' are driven into the Arabian Sea. Wendell ! Do I hear a 'Yes' coming out from your end?? It will be so much easier than you think it is. Of course, you will be not alone. I, who have fought loud music noise pollution for almost 25 years is solidly with you and others who will want to go ahead. To start with, let few of us meet at AZAD Maidan, Panjim this Sunday at 5 p.m. just to say Hello , PPS?? Cheers floriano goasuraj 9890470896 www.goasu-raj.org It is not ENOUGH that GOOD n HONEST persons contest elections. It is not ENOUGH that GOOD n HONEST voters elect good n honest persons. GOA urgently needs 'HONEST SYSTEM of GOVERNANCE'. Wherein, even a dishonest person is forced to be honest or to QUIT. Only through PPS can such 'honest system of governance' be identified and accepted. PPS=PEOPLE for POLITICAL SANITY Be bold. Display the 'PPS' sticker on your vehicle today, to reject political madness tomorrow. [Note: PPS stickers are available at CHAMPS Sports Shops - Mapusa-Panjim-Margao] On Thu, Mar 11, 2010 at 9:41 AM, Wendell Rodricks wrote: > StyleSpeak: The Art of Noise > By Wendell Rodricks > > > > Noise pollution . Uncontrolled. Unleashed on a land known twenty years > ago for the sound of silence. > > We must stop it! > > A collective WE. > > ME included. If they pass a law not to play music on loudspeakers at ANY > time, we must comply. Day or night. NO sound beyond a certain decibel. WE > want to hear music. Real music. Not this tourist rave crap. Which keeps us > awake, keeps our children from studies, keep our elderly hearts beating > faster. > > IT MUST STOP! > > It is so easy to stop. It's not as there is no solution. The people and the > Police and the Government should have the will to stop it. Put a law in > place and then act on defaulters. And throw out the bad tourists who control > us mafia style. Throw them out for good. > > > And pray for this noise to stop. For Satan to leave our shores. To make us > realise the Goa we are loosing. To hear the birds again. To hear the waves > at Chapora... in Colvale. To hear our conscience. To slumber in the fact > that we can have less money but retain our dignity, sanity, uncorruption and > integrity. > > So that finally we can hear the true voice of God ! (ENDS) > > == > First published in Goa Today, Goa - March 2010 >
[Goanet] StyleSpeak: The Art of Noise
StyleSpeak: The Art of Noise By Wendell Rodricks It is easy to contemplate on noise here in Grenada. We arrived last night after a seventy hour journey, passing Abu Dhabi in transit for four hours and a freezing New York for ten hours. When we left New York, the runway at JFK airport was covered in a film of snow. It was still flurrying down when the plane took off. Though it was past ten at night when we landed in Grenada (Say Gren-Ay-da not the Gren-aa-da in Spain), what immediately struck me was the sound of the waves. In the silence, that is all we heard. It reminded me of the Goa I knew. The wonder of silence. The sound of silence. That space of almost God like presence; when there is no sound. Just the sounds created BY God. Birdsong, the wind, the seabreeze, the rustling of the leaves, the sounds of animals (human included) and the waves crashing against the coast. When I moved to Goa in 1993, one night, my then tailor Tauqir appeared in the moonlight in my room; a knife in hand. I was terrified. He was even more so. "Boss", he whispered, "there is a lion breathing in my room". In any other room, we might have laughed. But this was THAT room. When I was buying the house, everyone said it was haunted (as any large home in Goa is supposedly). And in 'that' room, Mr. Braganza had passed away (As if people don't pass away in every room? I had countered at the time). We climbed in deathly silence to the room above. Right enough, from outside the Southern window, there was growl and a hum. Like an animal breathing. It rose on a growling rush and ended on a whoosh. We were mortified. I could hear it very distinctly. We went to the garden with torchlights. Nothing! Back in the room, the sound was still very audible. I offered to sleep on the floor. Tauqir offered instead to sleep on my room floor downstairs. Each night, we would go upstairs to hear the 'animal' breathing. It did not disappoint. At about eleven, it would begin. By daylight, it stopped. A monsoon passed. Late next summer, my father and I went to see his friend the art collector, Max Sequeira. After two fenis, I was astounded to hear the 'animal' again. "Stop!" I hushed their chatter. "Can you hear that?" "What?" "The animal", I whispered. It was clearly audible. My Dad held his feni in mid-air. "This is the sound you were talking about? The sound you made me hear in your house?" "Yes!". I was hoarse with shock. The animal had followed us here. Max let out a loud guffaw and was still laughing at our animal ghost story. Then he sobered up. "You know what that is Wendell? The rains are coming. It's the end of May. That sound. That sound you can hear so clearly...It's the waves crashing at Chapora!" All these years later, on some nights, I go to the Camurlim, with a sad nostalgia, a heavy sausades. There, up on the Camurlim hills, in the last week of May, I hear the waves again. Crashing on the Chapora hills; over ten kilometres away. Colvale has become too noisy. Factories crank up their generators. The highway makes our old home tremble. The poor walls vibrate their centuries old stones and the plaster flakes off at times when a particularly heavy truck passes by. On Sundays, we have to bear the church with it's loud speakers. And the temples with theirs in the evenings. And my annoying neighbours "reversing" car sounds. This is not the Goa we knew. The Goa which was so silent that everyone knew everyone's life. After I pulled up a staff for a certain misdeed, my neighbour would tell me the next day "You made a mistake. He took not just the coconuts away to be sold. He also overcharged your bill at the nako. And that part when you told him to keep the light on all night. That is not right. A waste of electricity". Then she would continue "Arrey, and you know 'that' woman opposite me. Now she has started entertaining the truck drivers as well. Shameless ! And what price they are paying for drinks so late in the night? Sheesh!! Are they mad-o-what?. So expensive." The very thought that illegal bootlegging past midnight is no more taboo is a shock. And the fact that the rate has been overheard is too much to be true. As shocking as it sounds, it IS true!! As Goans say..." Ask anyone in the village? All peoples know!" Late one night recently I was returning from Arambol. There was a rave (?) on at Mandrem. The noise was so loud, it altered my heartbeat. It was not a rave. Russians were at a shack; some dancing on a floor built in the sand. Is this legal? There were young Russian girls being ferried in the late of the night to prospective clients. Nearby Goan boys on bikes waited to take revellers home. What has become to our Goa ? Where is the Police? Where are our politicians? "Arrey baba, this is going on because of them. They get money. These Russians give them money. And girls also. Our children cannot study. Our old people cannot sleep despite being d
