Forts, shopping and Fonseca

My most favourite Goa activities based out of Anjuna were loitering at the weekly flea market and checking out Mario Miranda’s Fonseca clan at Reis Magos Fort. My little resort was very close to the spot where the flea market is held and once post Wednesday breakfast I sauntered off towards the area. Goan breakfasts are notoriously heavy and my favourite Orange Boom Cafe served them even bigger. Incidentally their kitchen was close to my room and I loved waking up to the smells of their fries.

There’s nothing like the aroma of fresh coffee to start a day with and insinuating fragrance of Orange Boom’s good brew would draw me out of my bed like magic. Freshly squeezed juice, fried mushrooms with eggs to order, bacon, tomatoes, hash brown and 2 of Goa’s famous sausages made my daily morning meal and were the real reasons as to why I avoided the beach. Vanity comes naturally to me and just because it was monsoon, I chose putting on puppy sized fat tyres over bikini body. 

Anjuna flea market started in the memory of the hippies who frequented the tiny Brahmin village from as early as 1960’s. They brought in the trance culture and rave parties, which eventually got spilled over to the adjoining Vagator and Chapora beaches. Partying whole nights and indulging in expensive drugs would often see them run out of money and they used to sell off their used goods to support themselves. This started the trend of flea markets in Goa and being a trance hub, the weekly affair is still going strong.

The big popular beach market comes to life around 10 in the morning and winds up at late noon. Haphazardly parked cars lead to rows of makeshift shops which sell jewelry, clothes, musical instruments, t shirts, hand made accessories, spices and beautifully embroidered purses. I love the colours and the lively vibe of the market and have often spent hours people watching, trying beautiful lace dresses and ogling at tattoos getting inked. The backdrop of the rolling blue ocean and swaying palms makes it a very photogenic place and shopping is usually the last on the list of things to do there. 

Lively, colourful and intrepid, Anjuna flea market however is more of a treat for the eyes and not exactly a shopper’s paradise. It is notorious for bad bargains, overpriced goods and drug peddling (although this has reduced). The nearby Curlie’s and Paradiso make the flea market more of a cool people’s hangout place and they shift to the psychedelic clubs parties once the market gets over. In the past I have enjoyed myself at a few infamous Anjuna parties but they eventually lost their charm as I sobered up. Earlier Anjuna’s thriving full moon and black moon parties used to be huge crowd pullers and these were mostly held outdoors on the beach. Rowdy, loud and drug riddled, continuous raids by the Goa police however reduced their intensity and these parties have now supposedly shifted to Arambol further down south.

With time Anjuna, just like me, finally mellowed down and it does tend to get a bit monotonous there after a few visits/days. It holds true especially for those who opt out of its rave culture and Terekhol/Tiracol Fort happened on one such dull day. Located on the mouth of the Terekhol river, the fort was built in the 17th century by Maharaja Khem Sawant Bhosle, king of Sawantwadi. It was built on a hillock which overlooked the beautiful Keri beach on the coast of the Arabian Sea.

It is on the farthest northern tip of Goa in the province of Pernem and cut off from the rest of state by Terekhol river. It was a pretty long drive past the usual quaint Goan rustic life and Rama skillfully navigated along the endless fishing hamlets. A car ferry from Querim (42 kilometers from Panjim) took us to the other side of the river and we again rode for 10 minutes through dense forests to reach the fort. Terekhol was probably derived from the word “Tir-Khol” meaning “steep river bank” and it was indeed quite on an uphill location. 

The fort was lovely with a beautiful sunny courtyard, narrow stone steps, lots of natural light and display of coat of arms and weapons. An old church of St Anthony stood in the middle of the courtyard and looked strangely forlorn in the afternoon sun. Although, the fort was long converted into an expensive luxury hotel because of monsoon, its elegant rooms were all locked up. The sun made its egg yolk yellow colour bloom cheerfully and solitude never felt better. I got up on the gun enclosures and stared at the splendid views of the pristine Keri beach. Untouched and unspoilt, casuarina lined Keri beach glowed softly under a Goan sun and a few fishermen cast flower like nets from the sand banks.

They belonged to the tiny Paliem village, where I had once stayed and their lives revolved around fishing, toddy (palm wine) and the moods of the sea. They seemed childlike from the elevated perch of the fort and I looked around the beautiful empty spot of history. In spite of its peaceful beauty, Terekhol Fort has an extremely violent history and it started with the Portuguese invasion in 1746. It was taken by the British forcibly in 1819 and during an uprising in 1825 the fort served as a stronghold for the rebels. The anti Portuguese uprising lead by the first Goan born Viceroy of Goa Dr Bernardo Peres da Silva involved heavy fighting and caused great damage to the fort.

The fighting saw the ruthless beheading and impalement of heads of the entire garrison by the sadist Commandant “Tiger Killer” da Cunha and the fort was a symbolic location for freedom fighters from Goa during the great Indian revolution. Terekhol fort history was a literal blood bath but on that afternoon only a sublime peace glowed  from its ochre hued walls. We stopped at Terekhol for a long time, watched a soft sunset over the Arabian Sea and caught the last car ferry back to the Goan mainland.

I love Goan forts and their strong dignified presence and simplicity which make them very peaceful places. Apart from Terekhol and Aguada, I like the Reis Magos Fort too and along with stunning views, piece of history, it now offers glimpses of Mario Miranda‘s masterpieces. An Indian artist, illustrator and cartoonist par excellence I came across his cartoon strips on Times of India newspaper when they were taking the country by storm. My most vivid childhood memories are of following his Ms Fonseca and Ms Nimbupani cartoon series and his illustrations charmed me with their childlike depiction of India. 

It was by sheer chance that I discovered the beautiful white Reis Magos Fort and the treasure trove of Mario’s collections it held within. Built at least half a century before the Aguada Fort, Reis Magos originated in 1492 as an armed outpost of Adil Shah of Bijapur. It was built along with a church with the Portuguese invasion in 1541 and was used to accommodate viceroys and other Portuguese dignitaries from Lisbon. It’s bastion held a prison and the laterite walled fort was held briefly by the British from 1798-1813.

Named after the Portuguese words for the Three Wise Men from the Bible, Reis Magos Fort is beautifully restored and offers excellent monsoon views. Tangly banyans drip along its inscribed flight of steps and it faces Panjim from its hilltop perch on Mandovi river headland. Incidentally arrangements for funds for the restoration of the fort was initiated by the great cartoonist himself and he took up the project as heartily as he churned out his famous strips. 

The fort reflects the self taught artist’s personality and his clean, simple style of caricature. Bold lines, natural light and easily found information boards made the fort walk very enjoyable and occasional doves and frangipani blossoms gave it a romantic air. I spent hours in its sun lit galleries, watched a dark monsoon sky thunder and crackle over Goa and splits of lightning charge through the atmosphere. Sitting there with Mario’s creations in his favourite place on earth (Goa) my childhood came back in flashes and I nostalgically remembered the days of innocence. Soon the images of Ms Fonseca, the buxom dim witted secretary, the office clerk Godbole, the fat corrupt politician Bundaldass and his glib, befuddling assistant constantly trying to explain to his boss the mysteries of the world outside politics and the making of money, came alive and I sat with my favourite artist, Mario under a darkening Aabian Sea sky.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.