We are Goans, we can hold our drink: Tavern town

Vasco, the port headquarters of the Portuguese beginning 1543, and Goa’s commercial port town since 1961, with National Highways 17A and 17B running through its narrow expanse, is among the worst affected by the Supreme Court order on sale of liquor along highways.

Since April 1, the port town has gone mostly dry, with the Excise Department pegging the number of taverns, some of them a century-old, and shops closed at 200-odd.

“On one end you have the Supreme Court holding a measure tape and on the other end is the Arabian Sea,” rues Rodrigues. “Where will the Goans go to drink in Vasco?”

In his parent shop, he has painted over the name board that hangs outside the tavern, changing it from Wine Merchants to General Merchants, and expects a drop in business of 80 per cent as he stops selling wine and foreign liquor and shifts to selling cold cuts.

Of 6 lakh foreign tourists estimated to land annually at Goa’s Dabolim airport, many head first to Vasco. Dattaprasad Naik, president of Goa Liquor Traders’ Association, says, “In Goa, 3,000-odd units now have their shutters down. In Vasco, the situation is even worse…. there will be a lot of socio-economic hits.”

This is the second blow to bar owners in Vasco after the mining ban. The town, with its shipyard, was once the hub of mining activities, with coal and iron ire travelling over the Zuari river.

Located at the main city square, Cecol Wine Shop, the proud owner of “the first licence to sell liquor in Goa”, issued back in Portuguese time, has replaced the Portuguese liquor on its shelves with pickles. “I have a stock of Indian beer in our godown and am asking my creditors to take the bottles. We don’t have money to pay,” says Gabrielle D’ Souza, 70, the third-generation owner of the shop.

Adds D’ Souza, “I drink beer from 9 in the morning to 9 at night, so does everyone I know. We are Goans and we are sober and we can hold a drink. I don’t understand why courts are meddling.” Questioning the court’s logic that the order would check drunk driving, he adds, “What are police doing if there are drunken drivers?”

At Baina beach, fishermen are huddled inside a tent, nursing prized drinks. Many colourful homes located along the beach front have extra rooms converted into such drinking places, which serve food and liquor.

Brahma Chelwadi, 42, goes to sea twice a day, and every time he returns with his catch of mackerel and ladyfish, stops over at these joints first. “I spend Rs 100 daily. I have now stocked for a week, as from next week, there will be a black market for liquor.”

His friend Rasool Gamaannvar, 25, is aghast. “The sale of other intoxicants like ganja will go up on the beach fronts. Here a drink is not to get drunk; we never attacked anyone. In Goa a drink is about having a good life,” he says.

Yamanapaa Madar, 33, a lifeguard, says the only “drunks” he has handled in Goa are those pulled in from the sea. “The Supreme Court idea is good, but one cannot enforce such distances. A drunk will go any distance. In Goa, we are social drinkers, and we are not going to walk looking for legal distances (from the highways) and a drink. This kills our culture.” He adds, “It’s hard to explain it to any non-Goan. There should have been at least one Goan judge, and then we all could have discussed. Very, very, very seriously.”

The Goans are also wondering what happens when the under-construction Baina flyover, a showpiece of the BJP government that won on a campaign of highways and bridges, gets made. “We are told that NH17A will be denotified after Baina highway becomes the new NH. That will affect another set of taverns,” points out a resident.

Owner Silvestro D’ Souza saw his Sheela Restaurant and Bar, an iconic sea-facing eatery that is a must halt for most film crews coming to shoot in Goa, as a platform to showcase the many derivatives of Feni his family brews. At peak season, he would get 500 customers a day.

Pointing to the highway touching his restaurant, he says, “Anyone who goes to the airport and wants a last plate of fish stops at my joint. Those who are regulars come to have their first beer once they come out of the airport. What am I going to serve them?”

The relationship between fish and liquor in a tourist place like Goa, he describes, “is like glucose and syringe”. “You can have a big bottle of glucose for energy, but you still need that syringe.”

D’Souza says he and the other owners have made several visits to their elected representatives for help, but with no success. “I want to understand this fetish for the word ban. Everything is blanket ban. Such decisions need a studied approach,” he said.