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)
Story of Mário, the Miranda (Part 2/6)
The Artist as a Young Man
It was during his college days in Bombay that Mário’s characters first strutted out of his diaries; he drew pocket cartoons and peddled them at Flora Fountain for pin money.[11] And at a medical ball held at Clube Vasco da Gama, Panjim, couples dancing the night away delighted in the frisky sketches of the faculty members that Mário kept drawing on the wall mirrors lining the ballroom.[12]
It is not that Mário always passed uncensured. One day, a priest from the village, whom he had depicted outside the local fish market, showed up at his house. Mário’s mother, after doing her best to placate the visitor, ended up going to see archbishop Dom José da Costa Nunes, who had once expressed his wish to meet the young artist. Mário was hesitant but once there, was relieved to see his diaries spark guffaws rather than a controversy. ‘That was the first time I was appreciated by someone I didn’t know,’ he said.[13]
Mário maintained a diary right through his years spent in British India with intermittent stays in Goa and Damão (Figure 2). The last three logbooks (1949-51),[14] now available in print, are a shrine of frolicky pictures of relatives and friends in Loutulim, Panjim and Margão.[15] To quote Nissim Ezekiel, ‘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.’[16]
That was Mário’s equivalent of the dark night of the soul! His lifestyle was a cause of concern to his by now widowed mother struggling to manage the household while at the same time providing for Pedro at Princeton University.[17] But then Mário had a change of heart: was it the showcasing of his watercolours and drawings by the 1950 Souvenir of the Bombay-based Loutulenses League[18] that did the trick?
In 1951, seeing a bleak future for himself in Goa, Mário moved to Bombay. Though creative possibilities seemed unlimited here, he was jobless and quite badly off at first. That’s precisely when Policarpo (Polly) Vaz, a fellow hosteller at Rockville,[19] famously suggested to him to hand-craft picture postcards depicting the city monuments, offering to sell them at the hotel where he worked the night shift. Needless to say, the two became fast friends; and they had even thought of migrating to Brazil,[20] when Mário got a call from D. F. Karaka of The Current. The redoubtable editor, riveted by Mário’s diaries, commissioned him to cover a can-can dance scene at the Taj Hotel, and received such a rib-tickler that he promptly took him on as the tabloid’s regular cartoonist.
The young Goan created a stir in Bombay's journalistic circles when his cartoons first appeared in the press. Editor C. R. Mandy and art director Walter Langhammer soon invited him to The Illustrated Weekly of India. Before long, other Times Group publications,[21] too, began to use Mário’s drawings; they skilfully portrayed movement and sound, and often featured the cartoonist’s trademark dog.
Art of Cartooning
That was the year 1952. Mário had virtually stumbled into the profession of cartooning.[22] To an onlooker the job seemed easy, and everything grist to the mill – from the bureaucracy, fashions, business, and people’s habits, to the animal world, environment, music, society, and even politics – but really, 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.’[23]
Elaborating on his predicament, Mário said, ‘People expect me to come up with jokes and anecdotes to make others laugh. I can’t do that. I enjoy humour if it comes from someone else who knows how to tell a good joke…. I am not a naturally funny person; I may look funny, but I am not funny.’[24] And if a cartoonist’s defining quality it is ‘to detect funniness in people’s behaviour or physical features and draw it, it is equally important to be able to laugh with someone, not at someone, without being cruel,’ said Mário, adding: ‘Humour is something very personal, individual. What’s funny to me may not be funny to you. Sometimes I do something which I think is very funny – and it flops! And people asking you to explain a cartoon flattens it completely.’[25]
Past the initial scramble for work, Mário began to yearn for the blissful spontaneity of his diary sketching. Add to this the fact that political bigwigs were breathing down his neck, and Mário had a sure recipe for disenchantment. Bombay Presidency’s Home Minister Morarji Desai was among the first ones to let his irritation show – something that taught Mário early on that lampooning political animals involved high risk. When he toned down the humour to appease the readers, cartooning quite paradoxically became a ‘serious business’. ‘Cartoonists are very serious people, and cartoons, no laughing matter,’[26] he quipped.
Finally, Mário stopped pursuing individual politicians; he began to see himself as a social caricaturist more than anything else. He is on record as saying, ‘I am not even a cartoonist; I draw… give me a pen and blank paper and I will draw. I just love to draw.’[27]
Acknowledgements: (1) I am indebted to Fátima Miranda Figueiredo for her knowledge and patience translated into many hours of whatsapp chats about her brother Mário and the family; and to Raul and Rishaad de Miranda for their warm welcome and lively conversation. (2) Banner picture: Portrait Atelier Goa (3) Article first published in Revista da Casa de Goa, Lisbon, Series II, No. 12, Sep-Oct 2021
[11] ‘Tale of Two Goans: Mario Miranda & Wendell Rodricks’, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FDLGApfATc&t=5s
[12] Cf. Fernando de Noronha, Momentos do meu passado (Goa: Third Millennium, 2002), p. 146.
[13] FTF Mario Miranda, op. cit.
[14] Cf. The Life of Mário (1949, 1950, 1951) ed. Gerard da Cunha (Goa: Architecture Autonomous), in 2016, 2012 and 2011, respectively. Fátima Miranda Figueiredo reckons that her brother’s diary sketches total up to about 6,750 over a period of 18 years (1934-1951).
[15] He frequented the houses of his relatives, Judge António Miranda and Captain Adolfo Menezes, in Panjim, and Judge Eurico Santana da Silva, in Margão; and often stayed overnight with friends in their hostels.
[16] Nissim Ezekiel, ‘No escape if Mario is looking at you,’ in Mário de Miranda, ed. Gerard da Cunha (Goa: Architecture Autonomous, 2005), p. 276.
[17] As told by Fátima Miranda Figueiredo, 27.5.2021.
[18] Souvenir of the Silver Jubilee of the Loutulenses League (Goa: Imprensa Nacional do Estado da Índia, 1950). Curiously, in the chapter titled ‘The Rising Generation’, Mário figures as an Arts graduate, not as an Artist.
[19] Polly was from Bastorá; other hostelites, Joe Albuquerque and Paulo Miranda, from Loutulim. Cf. Mário de Miranda, op. cit., p. 14.
[20] Manohar Malgonkar, ‘Biography’, in Mário de Miranda, op. cit., p. 15.
[21] Femina; Filmfare; The Evening News and The Economic Times.
[22] Conversation with Shri Mario Miranda – 2 (Outtakes), op. cit.
[23] FTF Mario Miranda, op. cit.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Ibid.
[26] Ibid.
[27] Manohar Malgonkar, ‘Biography’, in Mário de Miranda, op. cit., p. 24; Conversation with Shri Mario Miranda – 2 (Outtakes), op. cit.