Nigel Britto
Eric Ozario is everything you’d expect a sexagenarian Konkani activist not to be. Energetic, argumentative and multilingual, he exudes an impossible exuberance even at the crack of dawn. Long considered the showman incarnate of Konkani culture, the Mangalore-based, ghetto-raised Ozario is that rare, uncompromising kind of warrior—he calls a bluff when he sees one. Disdainful towards politics and organized religion, he has only one allegiance—Konkani. In conversation with STOI, the message was loud and clear—despite the many strides he’s already taken for his mother tongue, he has no intention of slowing down.
At first glance, Ozario’s fanatical obsession with Konkani is at odds with his childhood. Growing up in Mangalore’s poverty-stricken Jeppu ghetto, he barely spoke it. “When I did try, I was mocked at by the upper classes,” he says. To stay clear of this unwanted ridicule and consequent hurt, he resorted to English, and began questioning his identity as a converted Christian. Even today, as he tries to combat caste-related prejudices through his cultural work, he’s scathing in his criticism of Mangalore’s upper strata: “They only talk about purity, but don’t actually do anything for the language,” Ozario, soft-spoken yet quietly assertive, says.
Communism is the ideology that most resonates with Ozario. Though not a card-carrying comrade, he spent almost two decades in the trade union movement. There, he spent time with workers from Diocesan institutions, and as a consequence of fighting for their causes, fell out with the church. This was Indira Gandhi's emergency years. “It was then,” he says, “that I realized the duplicity of the Church.” He did know a thing or two about Catholicism. After all, he’d earlier spent five years in the seminary.
It was also during his trade union years that he encountered the great Cha Fra D’Costa, a Konkani journalist who, like Ozario, was highly critical of the establishment. Soon, D’Costa sparked in Ozario an interest in the language he shied away from. His Union activities too quickly found support in the columns of D’Costa’s magazine, ‘Udev’. When his new-found love for Konkani finally merged with his inherent love for music, there was no looking back.
In the 1980s, he founded Rang Tarang. “Back then,” he says, “Konkani music was characterized as the ‘Ye ye Cathrina’ type.” Rang Tarang was the stepping stone for his eventual goal, Mandd Sobhann, which he started in 1986 to “search for Konkani identity in Konkani music.” He says that the aim was to create a world between “Christian music that is largely western based, and Hindu music that is largely Indian-based.” Ozario also argued that Konkani music has an innate dance, and that culture without a dance form is not complete. "You play a dulpod, and a Konkani person will start to dance naturally," he says.
In Mandd Sobhann’s early days, lyrics were sourced from Cha Fra D’Costa, and later, from Mangalorean and Goan poets. The reception was mixed. When the troupe did its first 12 concerts in Goa, he says “the Hindus loved us”. Christians didn’t. “Bhajan karta!” they said of the novel, ghazal-esque sound. Eventually, Ozario’s troupe was accepted in Mangalore too. “When you get popular elsewhere, your own people recognize you,” he realized.
The ghost of caste soon came back to haunt him. “When we went to upper-caste houses to sell tickets for our shows, we were rebuked and told that Konkani is their servants’ language.” Swallowing these taunts, he soldiered on, slowly building finances and molding people to take the battle forward. One way he did this was organizing Sobhanns (22 of them) that focused on different aspects of Konkani culture. Naach Sobhann (dance), Bhakti Sobhann (devotional, with Fr Pratap Naik penning the lyrics), Bhurgealem Sobhann (focusing on children) and Matov Sobhann (revival of the traditional wedding form) were some of these.
In 1992, the movement got bigger. The All Indian Konkani Cultural Festival featured 28 troupes and went on for 9 days. “It was then we realized the need for continuity; we needed to build institutions,” Ozario says. It was four years before work was started on the project—Kalaangann. On December 18, 1996, Ozario went on a 100-days yatra, visiting 10,361 houses in the district asking for donations. “In every house, I lit a symbolic lamp for Konkani culture,” he says. He managed to raise Rs 10 lakh. Sadly, his subsequent yatras were not as successful, and he rues the fact that people don’t understand cultural causes. ‘“Konkani amchi potan bhorta?’ they ask. Nevertheless, over the years, income increased through performances. "The kind of money we've spent," Ozario says, "not even the Goa government has spent so much to promote Konkani."
Today, Kalaangann is a full-fledged cultural institute. “We have done Konkani theatre every month for the last 128 months,” Ozario says. The institute also undertakes research and studies. Yet, Ozario’s formidable achievements have not made him complacent. His latest project is the Jagatik Konkani Sangatan, a mission to unite all the Konkani people of the world. “So far,” he says, “128 organizations in 13 countries, including Pakistan and Israel, are part of the group. We want to respect variety and seek unity.”
Phenomenal as the achievement may be, it’s not his greatest. In 2008, Kalaangann conducted a programme called Niranthari, in which 1,711 singers from 44 groups sang non-stop for 40 hours, thereby cementing the institute’s, and indeed Ozario’s, name in the Guiness book of world records. Lesser mortals would rest on these laurels, but for Eric Ozario, the battle has only just begun.
Eric Ozario, along with Goan singers Olavo Rodrigues and Sonia Shirsat, will perform at the Konkani Rocks concert at Campal on Sunday at 7pm.
At first glance, Ozario’s fanatical obsession with Konkani is at odds with his childhood. Growing up in Mangalore’s poverty-stricken Jeppu ghetto, he barely spoke it. “When I did try, I was mocked at by the upper classes,” he says. To stay clear of this unwanted ridicule and consequent hurt, he resorted to English, and began questioning his identity as a converted Christian. Even today, as he tries to combat caste-related prejudices through his cultural work, he’s scathing in his criticism of Mangalore’s upper strata: “They only talk about purity, but don’t actually do anything for the language,” Ozario, soft-spoken yet quietly assertive, says.
Communism is the ideology that most resonates with Ozario. Though not a card-carrying comrade, he spent almost two decades in the trade union movement. There, he spent time with workers from Diocesan institutions, and as a consequence of fighting for their causes, fell out with the church. This was Indira Gandhi's emergency years. “It was then,” he says, “that I realized the duplicity of the Church.” He did know a thing or two about Catholicism. After all, he’d earlier spent five years in the seminary.
It was also during his trade union years that he encountered the great Cha Fra D’Costa, a Konkani journalist who, like Ozario, was highly critical of the establishment. Soon, D’Costa sparked in Ozario an interest in the language he shied away from. His Union activities too quickly found support in the columns of D’Costa’s magazine, ‘Udev’. When his new-found love for Konkani finally merged with his inherent love for music, there was no looking back.
In the 1980s, he founded Rang Tarang. “Back then,” he says, “Konkani music was characterized as the ‘Ye ye Cathrina’ type.” Rang Tarang was the stepping stone for his eventual goal, Mandd Sobhann, which he started in 1986 to “search for Konkani identity in Konkani music.” He says that the aim was to create a world between “Christian music that is largely western based, and Hindu music that is largely Indian-based.” Ozario also argued that Konkani music has an innate dance, and that culture without a dance form is not complete. "You play a dulpod, and a Konkani person will start to dance naturally," he says.
In Mandd Sobhann’s early days, lyrics were sourced from Cha Fra D’Costa, and later, from Mangalorean and Goan poets. The reception was mixed. When the troupe did its first 12 concerts in Goa, he says “the Hindus loved us”. Christians didn’t. “Bhajan karta!” they said of the novel, ghazal-esque sound. Eventually, Ozario’s troupe was accepted in Mangalore too. “When you get popular elsewhere, your own people recognize you,” he realized.
The ghost of caste soon came back to haunt him. “When we went to upper-caste houses to sell tickets for our shows, we were rebuked and told that Konkani is their servants’ language.” Swallowing these taunts, he soldiered on, slowly building finances and molding people to take the battle forward. One way he did this was organizing Sobhanns (22 of them) that focused on different aspects of Konkani culture. Naach Sobhann (dance), Bhakti Sobhann (devotional, with Fr Pratap Naik penning the lyrics), Bhurgealem Sobhann (focusing on children) and Matov Sobhann (revival of the traditional wedding form) were some of these.
In 1992, the movement got bigger. The All Indian Konkani Cultural Festival featured 28 troupes and went on for 9 days. “It was then we realized the need for continuity; we needed to build institutions,” Ozario says. It was four years before work was started on the project—Kalaangann. On December 18, 1996, Ozario went on a 100-days yatra, visiting 10,361 houses in the district asking for donations. “In every house, I lit a symbolic lamp for Konkani culture,” he says. He managed to raise Rs 10 lakh. Sadly, his subsequent yatras were not as successful, and he rues the fact that people don’t understand cultural causes. ‘“Konkani amchi potan bhorta?’ they ask. Nevertheless, over the years, income increased through performances. "The kind of money we've spent," Ozario says, "not even the Goa government has spent so much to promote Konkani."
Today, Kalaangann is a full-fledged cultural institute. “We have done Konkani theatre every month for the last 128 months,” Ozario says. The institute also undertakes research and studies. Yet, Ozario’s formidable achievements have not made him complacent. His latest project is the Jagatik Konkani Sangatan, a mission to unite all the Konkani people of the world. “So far,” he says, “128 organizations in 13 countries, including Pakistan and Israel, are part of the group. We want to respect variety and seek unity.”
Phenomenal as the achievement may be, it’s not his greatest. In 2008, Kalaangann conducted a programme called Niranthari, in which 1,711 singers from 44 groups sang non-stop for 40 hours, thereby cementing the institute’s, and indeed Ozario’s, name in the Guiness book of world records. Lesser mortals would rest on these laurels, but for Eric Ozario, the battle has only just begun.
Eric Ozario, along with Goan singers Olavo Rodrigues and Sonia Shirsat, will perform at the Konkani Rocks concert at Campal on Sunday at 7pm.
This article was first published in The Times of India, Goa, on August 19, 2012.
No comments:
Post a Comment