MARGAO: The intangible heritage of the State, like that of its music, song, dance, and stories cannot be preserved as objects in a museum. These are living and breathing
antiquities and have to be practiced and lived to endure the passage of time.
Among these musical treasures is the Mando, a captivating form of 19th-century Goan song that seamlessly fits into the category of Goan ‘Dance songs’. Its origins trace back to the widely known ‘Ovi’ (Vovi), a wedding song that once held sway over Goa's musical landscape. The Mando follows four basic themes: yearning for union (utrike); the union attained (ekvott); lament out of despair for union (villap) and finally a narrative of events that may be domestic, political or local (fobro).
Margarida Távora e Costa from Raia, a member of the ‘Gavana’ troupe of singers, musicians and dancers, reminisces,” In the olden days, it was mandatory for the bride to sing the Mando and for couples to dance to it,” adding that Mando festivals of the 1960s/70s were very classy affairs, with society’s who’s who in attendance. The Mando conveyed emotions of love, but also played a significant role in documenting contemporary events especially of political and social nature.
“Over time, the number of groups performing Mando along with the quality and class in the performances has reduced drastically,” she claims. Margarida rues that the Mando is a dying art form, but if like minded folks come together with the sole intention of reviving and preserving it, the same can be accomplished. “In my younger days, together with my group, I would sing with passion and for free, but now this is not the case anymore,” she laments, while lauding some of the well-known groups of today, which do a commendable job of keeping the Mando alive.
It was during the period spanning from around 1840 to 1950, that the Mando was born, flourished and decayed. It originated mainly in the South of Goa, among Kshatriya (Chardo) and Brahmin Catholic families from the villages of Curtorim, Margão, Loutolim and Raia. While the origins of the name ‘Mando’ are unclear, there are high chances of the word being derived from the ‘Maand’ (a gathering place/a temple stage) or from ‘mandavoll’ (arrangement of dancers and singers). 19th-century Mando costumes for men involved a suit with a tailed or untailed coat, while women wore a ‘Torhop-baz’, consisting of a wraparound skirt, blouse, shawl, and gold/silver thread embroidered shoes.
Reverend Pe. Mansueto Fernandes (a musician), the assistant parish priest of the Igreja de Regina Martyrum, Assolna, says that hardly any young people appreciate the Mando. “Children have not been introduced to this form of music and this lack of exposure is one of the primary reasons why they are indifferent towards the Mando,” he said, upset that the future of the Mando is bleak.
Ivo Gonçalves, a Mando enthusiast from Moira states that the younger generation somehow lack the skill of putting in emotion and instilling life and meaning into the lyrics they are introduced to. “Now is the time we revive this truly Goan 19th Century form of secular singing and carry it ahead into the generations yet to come,” asserts Gonçalves.
Where gestures speak louder than words
During Mando, in some parts across Goa, it was customary for a man to hand a woman a card inscribed with the name of the dance he wished her to partner. If she agreed, she would join the file of women along one side of the ballroom, while the man would join the file of men along the opposite side. In complete silence, the strains of the Mando sung solemnly would impel the files into motion with movements of advance towards the right, front, left and finally a three-quarter view in a slow graceful manner. When almost facing each other in the middle of the ballroom, the couple would split and retreat to their starting points with advance followed by recess. The men tried every gesture while they danced. Flicking his handkerchief, soldier-like salutes, crossing and folding his arms, and sometimes, even strange hat adjustments were made. At the end of the dance, the woman would find herself unable to dance any further. The man, wiping the sweat off his forehead would then victoriously take her back to her seat.
How the tribal ‘Ghumott’ found its way into the ‘elite’ artform
Musical accompaniments traditionally used while singing the Mando would have been a violin, a guitar and rarely a piano. How did the ‘Gumott’, a tribal instrument played by the Gawda community, become such an integral part of today’s Mando? It could be that members of the ‘Gawda’ community, who assisted with the daily chores at their landlord’s house, would have
witnessed the Mando being sung and danced in their ballrooms, and somewhere down the years, began to add their percussion beats to the revelry, making an invaluable contribution to the heritage art form.