Goa. Mumbai. Separated by a few hundred kilometres. The two couldn't be more different. Or more similar.
Goa. Mumbai. Separated by a few hundred kilometres. The two couldn't be more different. Or more similar.
Consider this: Both are tourist hotspots, with a high concentration of hotels. Yet, one's a pulsing active metropolis that stops for no one, while the other revels in its susegaad (leisurely) culture. Each has a history that spans several centuries and has been enriched by the influx of several ethnicities that have made these places their homes.
And yet, the xenophobia (against 'invading' outsiders) is more pronounced in the sunshine state rather than in the material city. Sure they love the tourists who bring in the money, but we all know what we want to do to a guest that overstays his welcome, don't we?
The dailies in Goa have reams of editorial space devoted to the migration problem. There's talk about entire beaches (Morjim rumoured being one) being usurped by the Russian mafia (thanks, they say, to conniving politicians). Locals, it appears, are not being allowed to buy, rent or carry on business in some of these places.
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I drove to Cavelossim in south Goa the other night. I had been to the place years before as a child. It has retained much of the old-world charm. What I found markedly different were the Russian signs all over the place. Another one bites the dust?
The economy doesn't seem to be suffering, though. So why the fuss? Why is there a brouhaha only after the change actually becomes tangible?
It seems to be alright in Goa to have people from other states migrating but not so much when the foreigners come and take over the bigger businesses, with land being the prime object of desire. You see Goans taking to vada pav and bhel puri far more warmly than we as cosmopolitan Mumbaikars would think of embracing choris-pav (sausage sandwich) and rasaamlet (omelette in coconut curry). And while local delicacies are dying out in the street, Konkani tiatr (theatre) still enjoys a far greater following than Hindi cinema in Goa (only four multiplexes in the entire state screen B-town flicks).
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An interesting parallel can be drawn to the Marathi manoos-north Indian conflict in Mumbai. It doesn't take long to whip up a storm when the threat to livelihood looms large. How soon before a monster of a local outfit picks up enough of a frenzy to fend off the 'outsider'? How soon before it's none of my business?