Published on 17th June 1957 in Heraldo
NOVA-GOA
NIGHTS (MIDNIGHT MUSINGS) BY A.R.AGUAIR
The oscillating pendulum of the clock softly hammers
its rhythmic tick tock, like the regular beats of the human heart, and soon the
gong strikes twelve.
Zero hour.
Midnight is snugly enveloped in its ebony nightgown,
Sleepy silence reigns supreme on the streets
stretching as far as ear range.
Darkness drops a plastic mantle of mystery over the
drowsy city.
The wind whistles and holds a whispered Tete-a-tete
with the Muses around the nooks and corners.
The Moon, that Effulgent Eye of God, watches
vigilantly over the Land of Nod.
Sombre shadows dance gracefully along the roads and
somnolent street lamps trace sporadic islets of incandescent light contrasting
with the pitch black patches.
Deluded by the bewitching beauty of glaring lamps,
tiny moths hurl themselves headlong with a reckless abandon at their magnetic
and scathing sheen, and there their brief adventure ends irretrievably.
The urban buildings stand sentinel, like petrified
phantoms and trees resemble ghastly ghosts white-washed by translucent
moonshine.
Sinister and soporific stillness embraces the
environment in an amorous hug surveying the scene in search of the charms of
solitude, and the dreams of poets.
At certain moments it seems that even Time itself
stays stationary for some spells.
Fallen leaves rustle, hustle, bustle- fly, frolic,
and flirt with balmy breezes.
Sometimes such pin-drop silence hovers around, like
a hawk, that you can almost hear the music of the spheres sojourning through
space,- the canopy of the cosmos.
The discordant concert of the multitudinous insects
bursts brusquesly on the tongue-tied atmosphere synchronizing with stray
stentorian snores.
The hooting owls; the barking dogs; the castenets of
crickets; and the muffled cacophony of nightbirds, foxes, and jackals are
audibly amplified by the comparative calm prevailing.
Apart from these spasmodic intrusions encroaching on
the general aspect and kaleidoscopic canvas, peace pervades the place.
In this insane world of chaos, toil and moil and
turmoil this picture of our Goan cinemascope cameo is like an oasis of supernal
serenity- a haven of concord for men of goodwill- a spiritual sanctuary- an abode
of the gods.
The surroundings skyline is icing-coated with
stardust and moonglow, scattering suave scenic splendours in the shallow drab
darkness as ubiquitous as the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Everything is as fast as a Church.
The country is at rest and nothing awakes save
study, meditation, revelry, crime and debauchery.
Adventurers anonymous and mercenary felons launch
stealthily on their clandestine circuit through the secrecy of the late hour in
rare and isolated instances.
A few humans haunt the streets; here and there a
policeman or a night watchman.
Occasionally a vagrant cart trespasses clattering
leisurely over the macadamized throughfares;
Or a passing automobile accelerating over the
asphalt challenges the ambient with a metallic rattle, its lights piercing the
distance like huge fireflies patrolling the
gripping, nigrescent air.
Film fans and club-goers who swept into halls like
squirts of fizzing fruit saline, now make their hasty exit with all the
effervescence squeezed out of their skins- their faces smudged with fatigue;
their mouths yawning like chasms; and their weary legs winding their homeward
trail with lethargic stride.
The time is ignored by spooning lovers wrapped in
the rapture of their romance and engaged in a lingering “good night” BOA NOITE!
Ere long the stars will say “Au Revoir” ATE LOGO! “
So long”
The rouged face of Sunrise will peep over the hoary
horizon through the blinking dawn, marking the marriage of Darkness and Light,
playing the prelude to the symphony of a new day- Humanity’s heritage.
The sun will bid the Moon “ Good Day!” “BOM DIA!”
and another Night will be scored off from Eternity by the aeons-old hands of
Father Time.
Here is the action, reaction,inaction, and enaction
of the evanescent nocturnal, panoramic “Cinerama” of NOVA-GOA NIGHTS
THE
DUDH SAGAR WATERFALLS (Published
on January 20th, 1958)
I
watched the Dugh Sagar Waterfalls gleam,
From
the small station on the railroad edge;
All
round the ground was wet along the ledge,
The
distant view was like a ribbon stream.
At
first from far they looked like milky dots,
Frothing
and foaming in the sun and in shade,
Across
cavern, chasm, valley, glen and glade,
From
their perch in the lofty Western Ghats.
Plunging
over rocks, leaping and swelling,
Below
the crag-covered precipices,
Spouting
like geysers through orifices,
They
plummet and pour from their high dwelling.
Shaking
their snowy plumage as they soar,
In a
swift surging crescendo they tear,
And
drum beat on the mammoth ear of air,
Like
muffled thunder o’er the engine’s roar.
Elemental
monument to Nature,
This
native cataract with wild charms thrills,
And
the stupendous steeps with sparkle fills,
Meandering
through woodland with rapture,
Stark
sights and sounds the sceptic senses daze,
With
a strange mystical fascination,
And
scenes that haunt the imagination,
Are
projected like a film through the haze.
Like
an idyllic Garden of Eden,
Cradled
luxuriously on the mountains,
They
climax into the traveller’s ken.
One
sees what Powers in those summits sit,
Present
latching its posters to the past,
Like
uneclipsed visions of rare art cast,
Through
the finite showing the Infinite.
Like
some aeonian, make-believe dream,
Nostalgia
to the emigrants brings,
Reminiscences
on the quivering strings,
Harping
on the heart- the exziled souls’ cream.
Gersoppa
may be India’s best falls;
Venezuela’s
Angel Falls may be
The
highest and a splendid spot to see;
Terni
and Lodore adorn canyon walls;
The
Victoria Falls may beauties boast;
Niagara
be America’s pride,-
But
the Dudh Sagar will always abide
In a
Goan’s eye’s and e’er be his toast!
