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Issue no. 12 jun 2019
our interconnected selves
Vimala Devi, Monção and Me
by Paul Melo e Castro
Identity, Appropriation and an Interrupted Kind of Absence
Michelle D’Souza Cahill in conversation with Selma Carvalho
Early Indians: Deconstructing DNA
by Selma Carvalho
Photo Essay: Dog, City & Coexistence
by Jose da Costa Ramos
Perspectives on Kashmir: Homefulness
by Jugneeta Sudan
Short memoir: Footnotes on Kenya
by Gregory R. Patricio
Saudade: Memory, Place and Unmooring
Suneeta Peres da Costa in conversation with Jessica Faleiro
Angelo da Fonseca: As Recounted by his Daughter
by Savia Viegas
Newman: Goa’s Shamans and the Fictive Dream
by Selma Carvalho
Garcia da Orta: India’s Original Antiquarian
by Ishaan H. Jajodia
Life after Death
by Krupa Manerkar
by Vrinda Baliga
Three poems: Deva Loka
by Michelle D’Souza Cahill
(in English and Portuguese) by Roseangelina Baptista
Four Poems: ATS
by Rochelle Potkar
Two Poems: Our Lady of Arrival
by Maithreyi Karnoor
Song Sung Blue
By Augusto Pinto
Love ‘n Share It
By Selma Carvalho
by Brian Lobo
With the publication of the 12th issue this month, we have reason to celebrate a couple of incredible milestones. 53,000 page views and 26,000 visitors in the two and half years, since the journal was founded, is no mean feat for a non-commercial, Goa-centric literary journal.
This just adds to the pleasure of announcing that the summer issue is out, and mixed in with the sweet outpouring of a bountiful mango crop in Goa, is our non-fiction section laden with interviews, perspectives and essays. Conversations with Australia-based Goan diaspora writers Suneeta Peres da Costa and Michelle D’Souza Cahill remind us that Goa’s multi-layered identity and its cultural roots consist of a rich lode from its diaspora. Jose da Costa Ramos’s photo essay on dogs within Panjim city, captures a rare soulfulness that reflects our interconnectedness with all of life. Art historian Savia Viegas opens a window to the family life of Goan artist Angelo da Fonseca, as we see him filtered through his daughter’s memories. Then, there is Paul Melo e Castro’s exploration of Vimala Devi’s work, and a translation which introduces her work to English-speaking audiences. Selma Carvalho shares with us the results of her DNA test, exploring what it means to have Goan ‘roots’ from a personal perspective. Garcia da Orta, reflected upon by Ishaan H Jajodia, was perhaps Goa’s earliest anthropologist and antiquarian. Centuries later, Robert Newman would spend many years studying the landscape of Goa’s cultural and religious transformations. In Homefulness, Jugneeta Sudan looks at how Goa engages with Kashmir away from the binary of nationalism. Additionally, we have footnotes on Kenya by Gregory R. Patricio, and reviews by Brian Lobo and Augusto Pinto. Our fiction section showcases work from established writer Vrinda Baliga and a new, upcoming voice, Krupa Manerkar. We have exciting new poems from Rochelle Potkar, Michelle D’Souza Cahill, Roseangelina Baptista and Maithreyi Karnoor.
The individual understanding we have of our family ancestry, the memories we choose to dwell on and the fictions we create of our lives are all a part of what keeps us interconnected as people occupying space on this planet. This issue delves into the many selves that make us whole.
Banner image is by photographer Rajbir Bhattacharjee whose curated collections of photography include ‘Minions and Mortals’ and ‘Cremation Choral.’ His spectacular sense of light, shadow, object and framing make his perspective singularly unique. Often ignoring, the single-point perspective, he deconstructs his image to reveal great depths of vision and commentary. He currently lives in Ireland.
The featured picture is titled, ‘Shelter from the Storm.’ Bhattacharjee leaves this comment about the picture: ‘We were travelling on a motorbike in the Spiti Valley [Himalayas], inadequately dressed for the weather. The temperature was one below and it poured incessantly. The wind and the cold froze our very marrow. After a couple of hours, we decided to stop at a village whose name I don't remember. We picked the nearest house and knocked and entered through the open door — uninvited. Sonamji, the lady on the left, saw us, invited us inside, made us sit near the hearth and made us some refreshingly warm tea. We stayed there for half an hour, thawed our veins and then begged to leave. She wanted us to have breakfast, but we had a bus to catch, and we didn't want to trouble her any further.’ You can view his collections here.
The views expressed by contributors do not necessarily reflect those of the Joao Roque Literary Journal. They are here in the spirit of free speech to evoke discussion. You can write to firstname.lastname@example.org if you wish to lodge a complaint.