Called to evangelise
In modern times, we are often baffled by secular viewpoints that conflict with traditional biblical teachings. We often feel that our deeply held beliefs are out of step with mainstream culture. Some people feel psychological and social pressure to conform to norms and abandon religious practices, or at the very least, there is a loss of religious literacy. We get less and less familiar with Christian teachings and move through our days on autopilot.
It is not so with God. He has worked relentlessly for the salvation of humankind since the beginning of time. That is what we see in the First Reading (Ex 19: 2-6). We see how God freed the Hebrews from Egyptian bondage. He had a soft spot for them; they were a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a people set apart to proclaim His message to the pagan world.
For their part, the Hebrews tried to be faithful to their covenant with God and to listen to His Word. However, they gradually fell by the wayside and turned against Him. When God finally sent His only Son into the world, they put Him to the test and crucified Him. By then, Jesus had already chosen His apostles, whom He then sent to the world on a mission. Ad Gentes.
And what a mission that was! It was not a usual mission, and it continues into our days: the divine invitation extends to us as well. As Our Lord says in the Gospel (Mt 9: 36 – 10: 8): ‘The harvest indeed is great, but the labourers are few. Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that He send forth labourers into His harvest…. And having called His twelve disciples together, He gave them power over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal all manner of diseases, and all manner of infirmities.’
The power to heal and cast out spirits that Jesus gave the Twelve is the same grace channelled through the Sacraments today. These visible, outward signs instituted by Christ are a way to convey divine grace, sanctify us as believers, and nourish our spiritual life. But alas, technological living very often stifles the life of the spirit; it goes against the supernatural aspects of our faith, such as miracles, or even the foundational Resurrection of Jesus, which are often rationalised, demystified, and distorted.
If we only accepted that our great God gives true and complete meaning to life, we would have consciously and happily adopted a supernatural approach to it; we would have realised that our life goes beyond the present world right into eternity. That is what we are called to do and be. Therefore, the greatest challenge before us is to be evangelically correct, not politically correct.
Jesus declared to Pilate, ‘My kingdom is not of this world.’ He prayed for his followers, stating that they are ‘in the world, but not of the world’ (Jn 17: 11-16). St Paul the Apostle echoed this by commanding them to ‘not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind’ (Rom 12: 2).
God’s command to us all to go out into the world and preach the Good News will be fruitful if we believe deeply in it. Believing is not just an act of the mind but a movement of the heart; it is not merely listening to God’s Word but acting on it with love. As followers of Christ, we need to do whatever we can, wherever we may be.
Thanks to the Good Shepherd, we are no longer sheep without a shepherd; we ought not to be on autopilot. But then, we are often the ones who fall by the wayside today. That is when we must think of our great and wonderful God who, as St Paul points out in the Second Reading (Rom 5: 6-11) reconciled Himself to us even when we turned against Him. He died to give us life; now, we have the privilege of living for Him.
To proclaim God’s Holy Name from the rooftops is our vocation and our mission as Christians: we are called to evangelise, and the undeniable fact is that our hearts will be restless until they rest in God.
Mário, intrinsic to Indian art history
You may also watch this on my YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnLJlzixsA0&t=12s
Óscar de Noronha (ON): Could you tell us something about what you worked on for your PhD, which is perhaps the first one on Mário de Miranda?
Prakruti Ramesh (PR): In my doctoral research, I tried to understand why some of the images created by the artist Mário Miranda were used, beginning in the 1980s and continuing till today, as a form of public art in Goa. You find Mario’s work displayed in government-controlled spaces like the airport, railway stations, municipal markets, the state library, and government cultural centres, but you also find his work in privately-controlled spaces, like restaurants, hotels, shopping malls, and institutes of higher learning. So, I was interested in why these pictures seem to appeal to diverse sets of people in Goa and what they communicate about the region’s history and present. What I did was basically to treat the images as a symptom of longer ranging historical processes pertaining both to Goan experiences of colonialism and to its experience of postcolonial development.
ON: Can Mário Miranda’s work be interpreted as sexist today?
PR: I would say that any form of creative expression can give rise to multiple interpretations. When social scientists like myself study cultural artifacts, what we try to do is to analyse them as evidence of social relations that prevail in a given place, at a given time. Mario’s artistic work offers clues both about the artist’s own disposition, that is, Mario’s individual biography, and about the broader political, economic, and social forces that shaped both the artist and his art.
Mario’s work can certainly be analysed along the lines of gender, but they can also be analysed along other lines of stratification, like class or caste. In connection with gender, I think it’s true that quite a few of his images reproduce stereotypes about women, but these stereotypes need to be understood in relation to discourses and representations that did not originate in the mind of Mario Miranda but were in fact widely disseminated across a range of media in the twentieth century.
I think it is necessary to understand that Mario Miranda wasn’t producing his art in a vacuum. To some extent, he was following implicit or explicit directions given to him by his employers, and his employers were in turn influenced by their perception of the audience that they were catering to. They were also influenced by the professional culture of the print media at that time.
So, for me, the question is not really that of determining whether some of the pictures that Mario Miranda created were objectionable by today’s standards. What I find more interesting is, firstly, what do these images tell us about the time and place in which they were created, and secondly, what processes unfolding today have led to the retrieval of some of these images that he created, in the context of public art and city beautification. Which images are these and how do they relate to the rest of Mario’s work which does not get comparable attention.
And finally, every time an image from the past is extracted from its original context and used in the present, I think it’s interesting to ask how the image itself has changed and what new meanings are given to it by the circumstances of its display.
ON: Is there an anthropological dimension to Mário Miranda’s diaries?
PR: I think the argument can certainly be made that the diaries of Mario Miranda which are currently accessible in English have an ethnographic component. Mario was documenting his day-to-day life with great regularity and with a high attention to detail. The form of these diaries is also extremely innovative because he blended written text with a variety of images, including cartoons, sketches, watercolour paintings, and even the occasional photograph.
But I personally would probably stop short of calling Mario an anthropologist, partly because he never claimed to be one, but also because an anthropologist’s craft includes a commitment to systematic and scientific documentation to the extent possible, of course, and Mario Miranda’s diaries are, clearly, highly subjective portrayals of his society.
But refraining from calling Mario an anthropologist does not in any way diminish the value of his work. The diaries remain very interesting historical resources with which to understand late-colonial Goa.
ON: Is Mário’s legacy yet to be recognised?
PR: One of the things that I noticed quite early into my research is that Mario Miranda has by and large been left out of recent scholarship about the history of cartooning and caricature in India. I’m not sure why this is so, but I suspect that it is because such scholarship has tended to focus on political cartoonists in India, and Mario tends to be grouped under the category of social cartoonists.
I hope that when my work is published it will correct for this omission in academic scholarship, but besides this lacuna which exists in the academic world, I think that even in Goa Mario’s artistic output tends to be very selectively celebrated. Some sections of his oeuvre have received extraordinary publicity while other sections remain neglected. And I think the selective nature of this memorial process is not a reflection of the quality of those sections of Mario’s oeuvre that are currently forgotten; rather, it reflects the values and priorities of those of us doing the remembering.
(First published in Revista da Casa de Goa, Series II, No. 40, May-June 2026, pp 42-45)
Nova visão sobre arquitectura e urbanismo português e dinamarquês na Índia
Diu, Tranquebar e Serampore
Óscar de Noronha (ON): Quando «reafirma» Diu como uma cidade colonial portuguesa — pois «nunca houve um lugar como Diu na história da presença colonial europeia na Índia» — o que é que faz desta cidade um caso de estudo tão excepcional? Acha comparável o caso de Goa ao de Diu?
Nuno Grancho (NG): Diu é excecional porque não pode ser lida como uma simples réplica da “cidade europeia” transplantada para a Índia. O que encontramos em Diu é uma situação histórica e espacial muito singular: uma soberania estratificada, uma longa duração colonial atravessada por interdependências locais e uma relação muito particular entre arquitectura, urbanismo, representação e poder. É precisamente essa combinação, entre presença portuguesa, proximidade do Islão, agência gujarati, formas católicas e culturas materiais transnacionais, que faz de Diu um laboratório privilegiado para pensar a cidade colonial para além dos modelos binários habituais “ocidental/não ocidental”. É por isso que digo que Diu obriga a rever pressupostos historiográficos muito consolidados.
Quanto a Goa, diria que é comparável apenas parcialmente. Goa é, sem dúvida, o lugar de eleição e de maior relevância para compreender a experiência colonial portuguesa na Índia e a sua cultura material, seja a arquitectura seja o urbanismo (como diria o nosso querido Paulo Varela Gomes). Mas a sua escala, centralidade administrativa e história urbana são muito diferentes das de Diu; por isso, embora haja pontos de contacto, Diu obriga-nos a rever categorias específicas que Goa, pela própria amplitude, tende, por vezes, a estabilizar.
ON: De que forma a cultura teria moldado as práticas coloniais dos portugueses em Goa, Damão e Diu e as dos dinamarqueses em Tranquebar e Serampore?
NG: A cultura moldou essas práticas de modo decisivo, porque o colonialismo nunca foi apenas um sistema político ou militar: foi também uma forma de tradução, adaptação e negociação. Em Goa, Damão e Diu, a presença portuguesa articulou-se com tradições locais, materiais, usos sociais e repertórios religiosos que produziram soluções híbridas, nem totalmente europeias nem simplesmente “indígenas”.
No caso colonial dinamarquês, em Tranquebar, no Tamil Nadu, e em Serampore, em Bengala, a escala mais limitada do seu projecto colonial (que nem sequer foi imperial, ao contrário do caso português) e a dependência de mediações locais também geraram formas específicas de negociação cultural, visíveis na arquitectura, nos modos de habitar e nas relações entre o espaço doméstico, a missão, o comércio e a administração.
Em ambos os casos, a cultura não é um pano de fundo: é uma força ativa que condiciona a forma colonial e, ao mesmo tempo, expõe os limites do poder imperial. Em ambas as presenças coloniais, a arquitectura e o urbanismo resultam sempre de contacto, tradução e acomodação, e não apenas de dominação.
A privacidade
ON: No seu livro A History of Privacy in Danish and Indian Architecture: Urbanism of Colonialism, a ser editado ainda este ano pela Routledge, como aborda o conceito e a prática da privacidade na arquitectura colonial dinamarquesa e portuguesa na Índia?
NG: No meu próximo livro A History of Privacy in Danish and Indian Architecture: Urbanism of Colonialism, a privacidade é tratada não como uma categoria universal e estável, mas como uma construção histórica, espacial e relacional. Interessa-me perceber como a arquitectura e o urbanismo produzem privacidade. Isto é, graus de retirada, separação, visibilidade e acesso, e como esses dispositivos variam entre contextos metropolitanos e coloniais em arquitectura e urbanismo.
No caso colonial dinamarquês, analiso sobretudo a forma como a privacidade se articula com a habitação, com a organização do interior doméstico, com a cultura arquitectónica e com a cultura urbana em ambiente colonial, mostrando que a distinção entre público e privado é sempre negociada e nunca puramente formal.
Mesmo quando comparo com o universo português, o meu foco está sempre na lógica dinamarquesa, mas, em ambos os casos, a questão central é a mesma: como é que a arquitectura organiza relações sociais, hierarquias e limites do corpo no espaço?
ON: De que maneira continuam as histórias coloniais da privacidade a influenciar as concepções contemporâneas de habitação urbana na Índia?
NG: Essas histórias coloniais da privacidade permanecem presentes porque muitos dos modelos contemporâneos de habitar ainda pressupõem e reproduzem dicotomias herdadas do período colonial: entre família e rua, interior e exterior, intimidade e exposição, segurança e acesso. Tais categorias não desapareceram com a descolonização. Apenas, foram reconfiguradas e continuam a informar o urbanismo, a legislação, o imaginário urbano e o imaginário arquitectónico.
Na Índia contemporânea, isso torna-se visível tanto em soluções voltadas às classes privilegiadas quanto em políticas de ordenamento do território que privilegiam certas formas de domesticidade e marginalizam outras. A história colonial da privacidade ajuda-nos, portanto, a perceber que a habitação não é apenas um problema técnico, mas também uma gramática social e política. O interesse crítico está em mostrar que o “privado” urbano moderno tem uma genealogia e que essa genealogia inclui relações coloniais de poder, exclusão e disciplina espacial.
Presença portuguesa
ON: Como poderia a camada arquitectónica indo-portuguesa de Bombaim dos séculos XVI a XVIII inspirar um planeamento urbano mais sustentável e socialmente resiliente?
NG: A camada portuguesa de Bombaim mostra que a cidade pode ser pensada como um processo acumulativo, adaptativo e relacional, e não apenas como produto de ruptura. Essa arquitectura ensina-nos o valor da adaptação climática, do uso inteligente de materiais locais, da porosidade espacial e da negociação entre as escalas domésticas, comunitárias e urbanas.
Num tempo em que a sustentabilidade é frequentemente reduzida à tecnologia, a lição mais importante poderá ser outra: a de que a resiliência urbana depende também de sociabilidades densas, de formas de vizinhança e de soluções arquitectónicas capazes de responder a múltiplos contextos. Nesse sentido e parafraseando Rahul Mehrotra, uma grande influência há muito tempo no meu trabalho, Bombaim oferece um repertório histórico útil para pensar um urbanismo menos homogéneo e mais atento à diversidade de usos, ritmos e pertenças.
ON: Na qualidade de professor visitante na Universidade de Brown, no semestre da primavera de 2027, como pretende abordar o tema «Espaços de contacto: arquitectura, colonialismo e descolonização no mundo de língua portuguesa»?
NG: Pretendo abordar o tema a partir de uma perspectiva comparativa e descentrada, tomando a arquitectura e o urbanismo como lentes para ler o colonialismo, a pós-colonialidade e a decolonização no mundo lusófono. O curso será estruturado em torno de casos e debates que cruzam Portugal, Brasil, África e Ásia, de modo a mostrar como os espaços de contacto produzem simultaneamente dominação, negociação e resistência.
A ideia é trabalhar a história da arquitectura e do urbanismo não como um campo fechado, mas como um espaço de interrogação sobre raça, migração, género, extração, memória e agência subalterna.
Na Universidade de Brown, quero também estimular os alunos a leituras cruzadas entre arquitectura, história cultural e estudos pós-coloniais, sublinhando que escrever sobre espaço implica sempre escrever sobre poder.
Perda e ganho
ON: O pensamento decolonial na Índia em geral e em Goa, Damão e Diu em particular não conduzirá afinal à perda do património colonial arquitectónico e urbano? Como equilibrar esses dois aspectos?
NG: Não creio que o pensamento decolonial implique uma “perda” do património colonial arquitectónico e do património colonial urbano. O que faz é deslocar a pergunta e o foco da análise: em vez de tratar o património colonial arquitectónico e o património colonial urbano como valores intocáveis, convida-nos a perguntar quais memórias preservam, quais violências ocultam e quem beneficia da sua consagração.
Equilibrar estes aspetos significa preservar criticamente, isto é, conservar os objectos, as formas, a arquitectura e as cidades sem tornar naturais e incontestáveis as hierarquias históricas que os produziram.
A verdadeira questão não é entre destruir e manter, mas entre celebrar sem mediação e interpretar com rigor. Uma abordagem decolonial permite, precisamente, proteger o património colonial arquitectónico e o património colonial urbano enquanto o reinscreve numa história mais justa e plural.
ON: Tendo em conta as complexidades do estudo da Ásia pós-colonial, que conselho daria aos jovens investigadores que desejem seguir uma carreira académica?
NG: Diria, antes de mais, que desenvolvam uma sólida base interdisciplinar: história, teoria, análise de desenho, leitura de fontes, trabalho de arquivo, trabalho de campo no sentido etnográfico e arquitectónico e, sempre que possível, conhecimento das línguas relevantes para o estudo. A investigação sobre a Ásia pós-colonial exige precisão conceptual e sensibilidade histórica, pois os objectos de estudo são quase sempre sobrepostos, contestados e carregados de cargas políticas.
Também aconselharia paciência intelectual e humildade metodológica. É importante evitar explicações demasiado rápidas e categorias demasiado rígidas; muitas vezes, o mais produtivo é aceitar a complexidade e trabalhar com ela.
Por fim, diria que vale a pena escolher temas que realmente exijam tempo, comparação e contraste, e atenção ao detalhe — “o diabo está nos detalhes” — porque é aí que a investigação académica ganha densidade, originalidade e relevância.
(Publicado na Revista da Casa de Goa, Serie II, No. 40, pp 46-51)
Dalgado, Konknnicho Martir ani Sant
Konknni Xastri Monsenhor Sebastião Rodolfo Dalgado-hachea 171vea zolm vorsuki ugddasa somoyar mhaka mukhel soiro koso apoilo mhunn Akademi-cho Odheokx Fr Myron Barreto-haka ani somitik Deu borem korum mhonntam. Ho dis urben ani dhinvasnneche monan monoitat mhunn, soglleam vangddeank porbim.
Xabaski mhojea ixttak, aichem mukhel ulovp korpi, Willy Goes-babak, zannem umedin Monsenhor Dalgado-hachem jivit amchea mukhar dovorlem. Willy-bab ek boro kolakar, sahityakar, ani somajik vavr korpi. 2014 vorsa ami Commemorating Christ in Goa, hem pustok uzvaddaunk vangdda kam’ kelam. Tache kodden kam’ korpak sodanch khoxi bhogta.
Mhotvachem mhollear, Akademiche spordhent vantto ghetloleank hanv hun’hunit porbim ditam. Tumchi urba chalu dovorchi ani fuddlem paul marchem mhunn magtam. Akademiche karyanim vantto gheuncho. Veg-vegllea spordhent bhag gheuncho ani, bhov korun, masikant tumchem borop zaunchem. Zoitivontank ani spordhent vantto ghetla titleankui porbim ani Devachem bensanv.
Az ami zomleanv Monsenhor Dalgadacho zolm disacho ugddas monoupak. Te mhaka kiteak avoddttat tem thoddea utramnim tumkam sangunk sodtam.
Monsenhor Dalgado, ek misionar, Katolk dhormancho ani Konknni bhaxecho. Te zaite vaurle, ani diabet zaun tache paim katorle, to wheelchair-ar ani hantrunar url’lo, punn sonvsarak Konknnichi bori khobor porgottlie xivai raunk nam. Te Sanskrut zannar, ani ti zannvai tannem Konknniche sevek vaporli. To ek prodhyapak zaun-ui, ivory tower-acher ravunk nam. Te Orientalist ani zaite bhaxeche zannkar: tem xikop tannem sodanch Konknni khatir kelem ani tichem nanv fankoilem.
Mhojea ispan, Monsenhor Dalgado Konknnicho martir, Konknnicho sant. Kiteak? Konknnichi beporva zatali tednam, Konknichem vaitt ulounnem zatalem tednam, Konknnicher viruddh vetale tednam, konn ube zale? Je konn Lisboa xarant, wheelchair-acher asle te. Monsenhor Dalgado sogllem nittayer ghalunk te ube zale; Konknni rakhunk fuddem sorle.
Zoxem heam disamni ‘enough is enough’ ho naro famad zala, toxench 1917 hea vorsa, Monsenhor Dalgadan apnnachea monan ‘enough is enough’ mhunnon, Heraldo-hea disalleacher ek lekhmall boroilo, ‘O concani não é dialecto do marata’, mhonnge, Konknni Morathi-chi boli nhoi. Tannem kitem mhollem ani koxem mhollem tem bore bhaxen aikat – Portugezint boroilam tem hanvem Inglezint onnkar kelam:
“This time my only goal was to break a lance for ‘my lady’ and to avenge the wild invectives that cowardly hands threw at her, mercilessly and with iron fists, but also – sorry to say! – with neither knowledge nor conscience.”
Konnachich porti zap zali na. Panch vorsam uprant te ontorle. Tednam, tache vangddi ube zale, dekhik Professor Mariano Saldanha, zo Monsenhor Dalgado-hache Lisboa vishvavidyaloian xis asle. 1929-hea vorsa, Monsenhor Dalgado-hachi suvat bhorunk Portugez sorkaran Professor Saldanha-k apoilo, zo Ponnje Liceu-ant Sanskrut xikoitalo. Dalgado ani Saldanha, bapui ani put koxe. Ani natu? Ami natu mhunn somzun, Konknni familichem nanv voir kaddum-ia.
Professor Saldanha Romi lipiecho adhari; desache zaite zannar, zoxe Suniti Kumar Chatterjee, Babu Govind Das hannim, ani dusreachim nanvam kaddun, hi lipi Bharotacheo bhaso koxe toren vaprunk zata tem tannim spoxttponnim dakhoilem.
Tankam mog aslo toso amkam aslear, amim dubhava vinn fuddem pavtolim. Aiz poreant, soyi pormonnem cholun, ami Portugez xikleanv, ani aiz Inglez xiktanv, ani kenna-kenna Konknni visortanv. Konknni amchi mãi khori, punn ami tichi porva korunk nam. Aiz kall, ticho valor, tichem mol, novie pillgek dakhounk favo. Ti amkam koxi lagu zata, vo relevant asa, tem dakhounk favo. Atamchi ani fuddarachi poristithi polleun kam’ korunk favo.
Halinch, zo Akademin Inglez-Konknni sobdkox uzvaddaila to ekdom’ gorjecho aslo. Porbim! Vegim-vegim Konknni-Inglez kox toiar kelear borem. Tiech borobor, Romi lipi vegim-vegim promanbod’d korunk zai, vigneanik utravoll toiar korunk zai, ani sahityachem kam’ (borovop ani onnkarop) fuddem kaddunk zai. Ani ami kortanv titlem lokak dehan ani bud’dhi vixin mello sarkem zanvchem. Chodd korun, ami amche bhaxecho mog korunk favo. Love conquers all.
Mhojim don utram sompoumche poilim, ani ek pavtt tumkam xabaski ani, mhaka apoilo mhunn, Dalgado Konknni Akademik dhinvastam.
Colóquio sobre Camões realizado em Goa | Meet on Camões held in Goa
Em 12 de março, realizou-se o III Congresso do Meio Milénio do Nascimento de Luís de Camões, na Universidade de Goa. Organizado pelo Departamento de Português e a Rede Camões na Ásia e África (RCAA), teve como coordenadores o Professor Filipe de Saavedra, que é o principal responsável pela RCAA; as professoras Loraine Alberto e Irene Silveira; Delfim Correia da Silva, director do Instituto Camões em Goa; Aneri Thakkar da Comunidade Luso-descendente de Damão, e Elias Colaço da Comunidade Indo-Portuguesa de Macau.
Deu as boas vindas a Professora Anuradha Wagle. Foi orador da abertura o Professor Saavedra, que, entre outras coisas, fez uma chamada para o número 2 da Revista de Estudos Camonianos publicada pela RCAA, https://plataforma9.com/publicacoes/revista-estudos-camonianos-chamada-aberta-para-o-numero-2-2026.htm. O número inicial saiu em dezembro de 2025, com autores de cinco países e regiões, incluindo Goa.
Na primeira sessão, falaram Loraine Alberto, Irene Silveira e dois alunos de mestrado, Aren Noronha e Dhruvan Nair. A segunda realizou-se no Instituto Camões, em Pangim, onde está aberta uma exposição intitulada «Os Rostos de Camões», com participação de 8 artistas goeses: Francis de Sousa, Nishant Saldanha, Sávia Viegas, Shailesh Dabholkar, Viraj Naik, Vitesh Naik, Verodina Ferrão e Yolanda de Sousa Kammermeier. Falaram os professores Wang Yuan de Pequim e Danny Susanto de Jakarta.
Depois de conhecer o bairro das Fontaínhas em Pangim; as igrejas e monumentos da Velha Cidade; os fortes de Aguada, Reis Magos e Tiracol; os mercados de Mapuçá e Anjuna; o seminário de Rachol e casas senhoriais, nomeadamente a dos Figueiredos de Loutulim, os conferencistas estrangeiros deslocaram-se até Damão, onde visitaram os fortes portugueses, as igrejas do Bom Jesus e de N. S. do Mar; as capelas de S. António, do Rosário e da Conceição; a casa onde viveu o Poeta Bocage, e a Câmara Municipal, que também guarda testemunhos da administração portuguesa.
O Professor Saavedra comoveu-se, muito particularmente, com a capela de Santo António na estrada de mesmo nome, em Damão Grande, e com a visita a uma família católica indo-portuguesa, onde almoçaram e cantaram. Em suas palavras: «Foi uma romagem de grande saudade e nostalgia».
(Publicado Revista da Casa de Goa, Série II, No. 40, maio-junho de 2026, pp 76-77)
Capela de S. António e Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Mar (Fotos: Cortesia do Professor Filipe de Saavedra)
On 12 March, the Third Congress marking the 500th anniversary of the birth of Luís de Camões took place at Goa University. Organised by the Department of Portuguese and the Camões Network in Asia and Africa (Rede Camões na Ásia e África, RCAA), it was coordinated by Professor Filipe de Saavedra, who is the head of the Network; teaching faculty Loraine Alberto and Irene Silveira; Delfim Correia da Silva, director, Camões Institute, Goa; Aneri Thakkar of the Damão Community of Portuguese Descent; and Elias Colaço of the Indo-Portuguese Community of Macao.
Professor Anuradha Wagle welcomed the gathering. Professor Saavedra was the key-note speaker and, amongst other things, called for submissions for Issue 2 of the Revista de Estudos Camonianos published by the RCAA, https://plataforma9.com/publicacoes/revista-estudos-camonianos-chamada-aberta-para-o-numero-2-2026.htm. The inaugural issue was published in December 2025, featuring authors from five countries and regions, including Goa.
In the first session, Loraine Alberto, Irene Silveira and two postgraduate students, Aren Noronha and Dhruvan Nair, read papers. The second session took place at the Camões Institute in Panjim, where an exhibition entitled ‘The Faces of Camões’ is currently on display, featuring eight artists from Goa: Francis de Sousa, Nishant Saldanha, Savia Viegas, Shailesh Dabholkar, Viraj Naik, Vitesh Naik, Verodina Ferrão and Yolanda de Sousa Kammermeier. Professor Wang Yuan from Beijing and Professor Danny Susanto from Jakarta presented papers.
After exploring the Fontaínhas neighbourhood in Panjim; churches and monuments of Old Goa; the forts of Aguada, Reis Magos and Tiracol; markets in Mapuçá and Anjuna; Rachol Seminary, and stately homes, notably that of the Figueiredos, Loutulim, the foreign delegates travelled to Daman, where they visited the Portuguese forts, the churches of Bom Jesus and Nossa Senhora do Mar; the chapels of St Anthony, the Rosary, and the Immaculate Conception; the house where the poet Bocage lived, and the Town Hall, which also bears witness to the Portuguese presence.
Professor Saavedra was particularly moved by the chapel of Santo António on the road of the same name in Damão Grande, and by the visit to an Indo-Portuguese Catholic family, where they had lunch and sang. In his words: ‘It was a pilgrimage filled with deep longing and nostalgia’.
(First published in Revista da Casa de Goa, Series II, No. 40, May-June 2026, pp 76-77)
A costela portuguesa de Mário de Miranda
Assinala-se em 2 de maio o centenário de nascimento de Mário de Miranda, caricaturista de renome internacional, nascido no antigo Estado Português da Índia.
Não admira que muitos ignorem se a etnia do artista é goesa ou portuguesa. Na verdade, Mário era indo-português, nascido em Damão, de pai goês e mãe damanense. Constâncio do Rosário Miranda era administrador do enclave, onde conheceu Maria Zulema de Brito, neta de um capitão português do exército do Nizão de Hyderabad.
O casal fixou residência no seu solar brasonado na aldeia de Loutulim, em Goa. A história do brasão conferido ao bisavô de Mário pela captura de Custobá está consagrada no folclore goês. Inspirou Trikaal, filme de Shyam Benegal que rodou no solar dos Miranda, imortalizando o «carácter latino» de Goa.
Em criança, Mário vincara a sua vocação com rabiscos pelas paredes da casa. Zulema oferecia-lhe depois, em cada Natal, agendas, em que o miúdo fazia esboços, com anotações—as suas confissões—em português.
Mário exibe influências de Bordalo Pinheiro e de Lopes Mendes. Autodidacta, nos seus diários — santuário de imagens mágicas de Goa, Damão e Bombaim — cristaliza-se um microcosmo de meados do século XX.
Em 1952, o Bordalo goês fez sensação na imprensa indiana. Para o ganha-pão, porém, pensava em emigrar para o Brasil. Foi quando o destino no Oriente revelou-se promissor. Integrou a prestigiada Illustrated Weekly of India, e logo outras publicações se renderam ao seu traço que transpunha para o papel o movimento e o som da urbe.
Estava-lhe garantida uma carreira ascensional, mas nem sempre lhe era fácil converter o dia-a-dia em gargalhada. «Há momentos em que não tenho vontade de rir e, no entanto, tenho de produzir algo engraçado», dizia. Não era fazedor de anedotas; preferia o humor que surge da narrativa.
Desta sobriedade nascia a sua filosofia artística: a de que o caricaturista deve saber rir com as pessoas e abster-se da crueldade. Desdenhando os figurões da política, assumiu-se como caricaturista social e criou um elenco arquetípico que habita a memória colectiva do país.
O seu amor intrínseco pelo desenho encontrou o fôlego necessário quando bolseiro da Fundação Gulbenkian em 1959. Percorreu Portugal de lés-a-lés, destilando a essência da alma lusa. Logo depois, em Londres, cruzou-se com os grandes da caricatura, ganhando um sentido de autonomia necessário para encontrar a sua própria voz.
Com a tomada de Goa em 1961, Mário viu-se obrigado a regressar com passaporte indiano. Navegou temas sociais e políticos complexos, pois a linha editorial do Weekly tendia a integrar Goa na corrente dominante nacional. Mário assumia uma postura distinta, publicando ilustrações a reafirmar a singularidade de Goa—uma subtil campanha de resistência que manteria até ao fim.
Mário transformou a arte da caricatura, aliada ao seu conhecimento da história e literatura, em ferramenta de exploração nas suas viagens a convite de vários países. Esboçava linhas rápidas que a sua memória fotográfica depois convertia em desenhos matizados. Essa técnica evoluiu em ilustrações elegantes à tinta-da-china, com profundidade e variação tonal do grafite e das hachuras.
A sua mestria e olhar singular cruzaram fronteiras, consolidando-o como figura central ao intercâmbio cultural. A Fundação Gulbenkian organizou uma exposição de Mário, intitulada «Desenhos e Aguarelas», e a Fundação Oriente apresentou na Sociedade Nacional de Belas Artes a retrospectiva «Goa e outros trabalhos», em homenagem ao mestre que servira como um elo entre Portugal e a Índia.
Na meia-idade, Mário perenizou o seu gosto pela ilustração. A sua maturidade artística culminaria num reencontro linguístico. Ao ilustrar Momentos do meu passado, de Fernando de Noronha, Mário admitiu que o português dessa obra lhe despertou «memórias nostálgicas da juventude em Goa», fechando um ciclo emocional através da palavra e do traço.
Quando regressou a Loutulim, encontrou entre cães, tartarugas e memórias, um cenário congelado no tempo, tal como o deixara meio século antes. O artista inspirou a geração moderna, achando vital documentar o que os olhos novos não viam.
Além da sua ubiquidade em postais, t-shirts e azulejos, os murais de Mário definem a paisagem goesa.
«Goa goza de uma atmosfera distinta do restante da Índia...» afirmava. Embora sentisse ameaçada a herança indo-portuguesa, esperava que o património resistisse e que Goa não abdicasse da sua identidade única, sendo um intransigente defensor da língua e da cultura portuguesas.
Mário foi condecorado pela Índia, Espanha e Portugal, uns anos antes de morrer em 2011. Teve uma despedida sentida, que se repercutiu pela imprensa internacional.
Se «A morte é uma curva na estrada, / Morrer é desaparecer de vista», dir-se-ia que Mário dobrou a esquina, mas continua presente. Desde as ruas de Bombaim até ao Fado de Lisboa, passando pelas alegrias de Goa, Mário é uma janela intemporal para um mundo onde cada rabisco da sua mão guarda um toque da sua etnia e magia.
Mário de Miranda completava agora 100 anos e é, seguramente, um dos maiores símbolos da forte ligação cultural entre Goa e Portugal.
Publicado no Diário de Notícias, 7 de maio de 2026, https://www.dn.pt/opiniao-dn/a-costela-portuguesa-de-mrio-de-miranda#)
Foto, cortesia de Carmita Miranda
Mário and his Times
Mário’s long tryst with Mumbai began at the Times. He had spent his graduation years at St Xavier’s College, but saw the paper up-close on his return to the city in 1952. With 18 years of visual diaries under his belt, he visited newspaper and business offices. He began as a freelance cartoonist with The Current and sold his handcrafted postcards of the city landmarks at the Flora Fountain to make extra money.
The 26-year-old Goan cartoonist’s versatility, spontaneity, and detail created a significant buzz. Before long, editor C.R. Mandy and art director Walter Langhammer invited him to the Times group of publications. The Illustrated Weekly of India was his first stop. Soon, sister publications like Cocktail, Femina, Filmfare, The Evening News, and The Economic Times began to use Mário’s skilful depictions of movement and sound, often featuring his trademark dog.
The rest is history. Mário would soon rank among the best of India’s cartoonists. The job seemed easy, and everything grist to his mill, but finding humour was no mean task. ‘There are times when you don’t feel funny, or may not feel like laughing, but still have to produce a funny cartoon – like a clown who has got to make people laugh all the time, although he doesn’t feel like laughing,’ said Mário.
Add to it the fact that political bigwigs were breathing down his neck—and he had a sure recipe for disillusionment. Mário learned early on that lampooning power involved high risk. When he toned down the humour, cartooning became a ‘serious’ business. ‘Cartoonists are very serious people, and cartoons, no laughing matter,’ he quipped. That’s when Mário began to see himself mostly as a social caricaturist, turning his lens to fashions, crowded trains, music, films, the bustling life of Irani cafés, and so on!
Past the initial scramble for work, Mário began to yearn for the blissful freedom of his diary sketching. He travelled to Portugal and England, drawing merrily. He did cartoons for Mad magazine and ITV and was featured in Punch. He made fast money and friends, but most importantly, his idol Searle’s injunction — ‘Stay on in England, but stop copying me!’— infused him with the confidence to go by himself.
On Mário’s return in 1962, R.K. Laxman, the reigning deity of The Times of India, ‘subtly ensured that the pedestal was not for sharing,’ says Bachi Karkaria. Mário made his mark… ‘His hilarious work is packed with characters from the contemporary scene and his greatest gift is that he makes us laugh at ourselves,’ said a review in a 1960 issue Cocktail, adding, ‘His illustrations too have polished perfection and have been such a success that all our writers want Mario to illustrate their work.’
The period saw the rise of Mário’s characters to iconic status: the efficient secretary Ms Fonseca, the Boss and his crony Godbole; the corrupt politician Bundaldass and his sidekick Moonswamy; the glamorous Bollywood star Rajni Nimbupani and co-star Balraj Balram. For generations of Indians, these characters were more than ink on paper; they remain a mirror to the nation’s quirks, even if changing sensibilities put a negative spin on some of them.
In 1964, the Times of India Press published Mário’s book of sketches, Goa with Love. Successive editors of the Weekly—Khushwant Singh, M.V. Kamath and Pritish Nandy—held him in high esteem. While his literary background and travels gave him a broad outlook, he wore none of that on his sleeve. Vinod Mehta said that Mário abhorred ‘intellectual talk’, his forte being ‘the accumulation of trivia judiciously and harmoniously composed.’
By and by, Mário got excited about capturing moods and ambiences for his pictorial travelogues. To make time for travel, he first joined a new tabloid, The Midday, where his close friend Behram 'Busybee' Contractor was the editor; and then took to freelancing for The Afternoon Despatch & Courier, founded by humorist Busybee. Countries around the globe invited him to hold solo exhibitions. He also illustrated books for the likes of Ruskin Bond, Dom Moraes, Manohar Malgonkar in Bombay, and for several writers in Goa. There was perhaps no other Indian cartoonist whose works turned into murals that now adorn the urban landscape.
In 1996, after Mário and wife Habiba retired to the quiet of Loutulim, the quintessential Goan artist was instrumental in setting up a museum of Christian art at Rachol (now shifted to Old Goa) and restoring the Reis Magos Fort. But the homecoming far from ended his love story with Mumbai, as he continued infusing The Afternoon Despatch & Courier and The Economic Times with his peerless humour.
The Times was thus his first and last stop. In 2011, India grieved when the icon that had humoured it in good times and in bad fell silent… Thankfully, Mário still provides a timeless window into the local and the global. He is an artist for all times and climes.
Mário: with malice toward none - 2
Continued from Herald Café magazine, 2 May 2026
KEY MILESTONES
Mario Carlos do Rosário Brito Miranda (1926–2011)
- Early Life & Education: Born in Daman on 2 May 1926 to Constâncio do Rosário Miranda and Maria Zulema de Brito. Educated in Loutulim and Bangalore, he graduated from St Xavier’s College, Bombay, choosing a BA in Literature over formal art school.
- Career Beginnings: Began freelancing in 1952, eventually establishing a long-term association with the Times Group, in particular, The Illustrated Weekly of India.
- Hobbies: Reading, music, sports, cinema, travel.
- Artistic Style: Shifted from political to social cartooning, creating iconic, intricate depictions of daily life. Also, a visual diarist, caricaturist, painter, illustrator, and muralist.
- Return to Goa & Legacy: Returned to Goa with his wife, Habiba Hydari, in 1996. Key efforts included restoring the Reis Magos Fort and establishing the Museum of Christian Art.
- Awards & Recognition: Honoured with all three Padmas (Padma Shri, Bhushan, Vibhushan), the Goa State Cultural Award, and international awards from Spain and Portugal.
- Passing: Passed away on 11 December 2011 after a battle with Parkinson's disease.
MARIO’S DIARIES
Mário began to draw while he was still learning to walk and talk. To deter him from doodling on the walls, his mother gave him blank diaries, pencils, and pens, suggesting that he record a highlight of the day. He feverishly filled their pages with bright and breezy sketches. He used line drawings and water colours and made a few jottings in Portuguese. Noticing her son’s commitment to journaling, she gave him drawing materials as a Christmas gift every year.
Mário sketched every day for 18 years (1934-1952). His sister, Fátima Miranda Figueiredo, estimates that those sketches number around 6,000. While his eye caught the quirks of his society, he unwittingly froze a microcosm of mid-20th-century Goa in his drawings, which also mirrored universal human nature. In them lies Goa’s plenty, or, as Dryden said of The Canterbury Tales, “Here is God’s plenty!”
Three volumes (1949, 1950, and 1951) have been published in English translation as The Life of Mário, edited by Gerard da Cunha and published by Architecture Autonomous.
MÁRIO’S CHARACTERS
Mário’s diaries portray his busy social life. He had a large circle of relatives and friends with whom he spent carefree moments as well as solemn moments. They went to restaurants and the movies, attended picnics and birthday parties, and went to church, a wedding, or a funeral. But wherever he went, he always noticed something funny.
Mário notices everything and everyone, and spares no one. The serious and the pompous come very especially under his scanner. According to him, ‘when people take themselves too seriously, they tend to be funny.’ While his drawings embody that insightful observation, they don’t merely distort a person’s features; they perceptively bring to light things invisible to the naked eye.
Those who came under his diary scanner included Goan celebrities, village folk, and even his beloved pet animals. It was quite a different ballgame in his cartoon strips for Bombay newspapers or in his travelogues covering Portugal, Spain, France, Germany, the USA, Israel, Japan, or other countries. Occasionally, he reworked his diary ideas, especially for the Bombay newspapers — the city and village types, styles of dancing, scenes at the cinema theatre, the cafés and restaurants, and so on — implying that human nature is the same everywhere.
‘I’m a keen observer of people,’ said Mário, ‘they are generally doing something they shouldn’t be doing.’
Mário: with malice toward none - 1
‘Mário is a subject that has no end.’ That is how Carolina Miranda, the centenarian cousin of the inimitable Goan artist, concludes her foreword to Diário do Ano 1951: Uma Campanha Alegre de Mário de Miranda (‘Diary of 1951: A Cheerful Campaign’), an upcoming book edited by this writer. She offers a close-up of Mário’s visual diary and how it made the rounds among relatives and friends. The Lisbon-based Carolina is a former teacher, poet, visual artist, and author of Histórias que contei ao meu gato — ‘Stories I told my cat’ — her memoirs, in which Mário figures prominently.
About Mário’s own fondness for animals, Fátima Miranda Figueiredo draws attention to her brother’s saying, ‘To err is human; to forgive, canine’ — which speaks volumes about his gentleness and empathy. He gave his pets long names and surnames, making them star characters in his diaries. In these, says Luís Pereira da Silva in his afterword, Mário ‘ably articulated what he experienced every day with lines at once quick and elaborate.’ The retired professor of paediatrics and amateur caricaturist adds that ‘Mário was always noble hearted in his irony, choosing affection and subtlety over scorn and sarcasm.’
Was it the artist’s unmalicious intent, then, that prompted Archbishop-Patriarch Dom José da Costa Nunes to let go when some clerics felt targeted by the young lad’s depictions? He was acquainted with Mário’s diaries and grateful for his help crafting the swan boat to carry the Pilgrim Statue of Our Lady of Fátima from Panjim to Old Goa. Mário, for his part, was relieved that his diaries had sparked guffaws rather than a controversy. ‘That was the first time I was appreciated by someone I didn’t know,’ he said.
Mário was a versatile artist, but best remembered and universally recognised as a cartoonist. Possibly one of the world’s youngest caricature diarists, he turned his journaling habit into a career. In March 1952, seeking an opening in Bombay, he toured editorial offices, his diaries in hand. Thoroughly impressed, The Current editor D.F. Karaka sent Mário to cover a can-can at the Taj Hotel. Mário returned with a rib-tickler that promptly secured him a cartoonist’s position at the weekly.
Mário was an instant hit, yet could not land a full-time role in Bombay. A fellow hosteller, Policarpo (Polly) Vaz of Bastora, suggested that he also draw picture postcards of the city landmarks and sell them at the Flora Fountain. Their bond grew so strong that they planned to move to Latin America together. But suddenly, Bombay proved to be more promising than Brazil when editor C.R. Mandy and art director Walter Langhammer invited Mário to join The Illustrated Weekly of India… and the rest is history.
Mário went on to become one of the country’s best loved social cartoonists. His iconic characters, like Ms Fonseca, the Boss, and clerk Godbole; the corrupt politician Bundaldass and his sidekick Moonswamy; Bollywood stars Rajni Nimbupani and Balraj Balram, appeared in the Times group of publications. Generations grew up with those cartoon characters that are etched in collective memory, although the world’s ever-changing sensibilities tend to put a negative spin on some of them.
All of Mário’s works, be it Goa with Love, A Little World of Humour, Laugh It Off, or others, show him as a tireless seeker of the comic side of life. In Bal Bharati textbooks and Air India in-flight magazines alike, Mário’s drawings were always teeming with human specimens, each with their own story to tell. His hawk eye caused the poet Nissim Ezekiel to remark that there is ‘no escape if Mario is looking at you. The buffoonery of his human figures is redeemed from grossness by their verve, their inner urge towards going places, getting somewhere. It is not always their fault that there is no place to go, nowhere to get except through the corridors of illusion.’
The artist’s own ‘inner urge towards going places’ was clear on his first-ever trip abroad, to Portugal. Later, Mário went freelance as a cartoonist to satisfy his wanderlust. By his magical ability to capture the spirit of a place, he received assignments to sketch vignettes and hold exhibitions across the globe. Veteran editor Vinod Mehta saw no contemporary artist in India coming close to Mário’s command over the grammar of drawing; the alleged ‘lack of venom’ in his repertoire spoke for his ‘objective perspective,’ he said.
According to art critic Ranjit Hoskote, Mário’s confluential, Indic and Iberian, heritage ‘gives him an amplitude of cultural references [and] a historically informed sensibility.’ Bombay’s Cocktail magazine once said that Mário’s illustrations have ‘polished perfection and have been such a success that all our writers want Mario to illustrate their work.’ He took as much pleasure to draw for journalists as he did for literary giants and lesser writers. A much sought-after muralist, he is perhaps the only Indian cartoonist whose works adorn the landscape.
Prakruti Ramesh, in her hitherto unpublished thesis titled Making a Public Aesthetic: Heritage, Humour and Regional Identity in Goa, examines why Mário’s images have fascinated architects, urbanists, educators, and tourism entrepreneurs and have been used as a form of public art in Goa. While she draws many weighty conclusions, one can also say that, thanks to Mário’s malice toward none, he has touched a chord in the Goan soul and is also capable of raising the happiness quotient of the big wide world.
To be continued... See three items in the next blogpost: Key Milestones; Mário's Diaries; Mário's Characters
(First published in Herald, Café magazine, 2 May 2026)
Mário for all seasons
To deter him from doodling on the walls, his mother gave him notebooks, pencils, and pens, channelling his energy into journaling. The little lad started a visual diary, happily making entries almost every single day for nearly two decades.
That was Mário Miranda, a child prodigy. Born in Daman on 2 May 1926, he spent his childhood at his ancestral house in Loutulim. He was probably one of the world’s youngest visual diarists, a rough-and-ready visual ethnographer who reflected the quirks of his society and produced eighteen packed volumes by the time he was 26 years old.
Mário never trained as an artist. In 1943, he left J.J. School of Art, Mumbai, on the very first day and decided to pursue a degree in English Literature at St Xavier’s College. He had a mind of his own… Why be constrained by theory and history when he had the art in him?
In 1952, he transformed his diary habit into a career. He freelanced for The Current and other newspapers in Mumbai, and hand-painted postcards of the city landmarks to make ends meet. Before long, The Illustrated Weekly of India invited him… and the rest is history.
Soon, Mário was on his way to becoming a nationally renowned cartoonist—though not the typical political type. Feeling heckled by politicians, he chose to be a social cartoonist and directed his attention to fashions, crowded trains, music, films, the bustling life of Irani cafés, and so on! Everything was grist that came to his mill.
Mário is particularly remembered for his cartoon strips of Ms Fonseca, the Boss, and his crony, Godbole; the corrupt politician Bundaldass and his sidekick Moonswamy; the glamorous Bollywood star Rajni Nimbupani and co-star Balraj Balram. They appeared in the Times group of publications like The Illustrated Weekly, The Times of India, The Evening News, Femina, Filmfare, and The Economic Times. Mário’s omnipresent dog demonstrates his love for animals and his personal belief that ‘to err is human, to forgive canine.’
The cartoonist never ceased to experiment and went on to become a reputed illustrator. He did drawings for journalists and authors and, on invitation, for countries as well. An avid traveller and lover of fine things, he later became a freelance cartoonist to make time for travel. He captured the spirit of every place he visited and endeared himself to the land and its people. He was a cultural link between the East and the West.
Mário was a passionate movie goer, and the cinema house was his second home. In 1979, he worked as a creative artist on the sets of The Sea Wolves, a war movie shot in Goa. In 1983, he welcomed director Shyam Benegal to film Trikaal in his family home in Loutulim; its plot was loosely based on a curious story of the Miranda family.
Mário is a quintessential Goan whose classic book of caricatures, Goa with Love, reflects his devotion to his homeland. There is no Indian like him whose works have transmuted into murals marking public and private spaces that refuse to fade.
1996 saw Mário and wife Habiba’s journey back to Loutulim, but he never really retired. He kept infusing The Economic Times and The Afternoon Despatch & Courier with his humour for years to come... As a heritage lover, Mário inspired designers, artists, and collectors. He helped set up a museum of Christian art and restore the iconic Reis Magos Fort in Goa.
Mário received the Goa State Cultural Award and is the only Goan to have won three Padmas. He also received high honours from Spain and Portugal.
Mário completed his life canvas on 11 December 2011. India grieved that an icon who had humoured the country and built bridges for decades was no more…
The Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa says, “Death is a bend in the road, / To die is to slip out of view.” Mário gave him the slip; he turned a corner and stayed with us—in the salt air of Goa and the soot of Mumbai. A great interpreter of the Goan ethos, Mário’s works now speak for him, his magic lingering on like a drug with ER—extended release.
If laughter is indeed the best medicine, Mário can be safely prescribed in good times and in bad. His art cheers the mind and gladdens the heart. He is an artist for all seasons, beloved by people of all ages across the globe.
(First published in The Navhind Times, Buzz magazine, on 30 April 2026)