JENIFER FERNANDES
joseph@herald-goa.com
ALDONA: In the quiet village of Panarim, Gokuldas Shiva Sawant, the humble yet proud custodian of an 80-year-old legacy of cow herding and fishing, embodies a way of life deeply rooted in Goa’s cultural heritage. His devotion to preserving these traditions offers a poignant reminder of the changing times and the sacrifices required to uphold a legacy.
Gokuldas’ day begins well before the sun rises. At 5 am, he is already at work, milking his 20 cows and gathering fresh cow dung—a resource he values. The milk is then delivered to his loyal customers, who have depended on the Sawant family for generations.
The rhythm of his day revolves around his cows. After the morning chores, he leads them to graze in the open fields, ensuring they are well-fed and healthy. By 5 pm, they return home, and Gokuldas concludes his day by preparing them for the night. His connection with the animals is palpable—they recognise him, crowding around with an almost familial affection.
“These cows are like my family,” he says with pride. “When they fall sick, I treat them immediately, and I constantly monitor them, even at night. It’s a responsibility I take seriously because they depend on me as much as I depend on them.”
Gokuldas left school after the sixth standard to assist his father, who was a fisherman. Office jobs never appealed to him, as he believed they lacked the permanence and freedom of traditional work. “This work is there forever,” he says. “It’s reliable, and no one instructs me. I do it with my heart and mind.”
The cows under his care are part of a government scheme, reflecting his adaptive approach to sustaining the family business. “I recently bought a cow worth Rs 30,000 from a nearby village,” he explains. “Each cow costs between Rs 50,000 to Rs 60,000 now, but they are worth every penny when cared for properly.”
While Gokuldas remains steadfast in his devotion to tradition, he acknowledges the challenges that threaten this way of life. Fields once lush and expansive are shrinking under the weight of urbanisation, with villas and mega projects encroaching on grazing lands.
“There’s limited space for grazing now,” he laments. “Deforestation and development are pushing us out. If this continues, these animals will be pushed into factories, like in the West, and with them, our traditions.”
Another concern is the disinterest of younger generations. “Children today are more interested in mobile phones and fast food. They don’t like the smell of cow dung, let alone the hard work involved in this trade,” he observes. “If this continues, I fear these traditions will die out.”
Though he appreciates government schemes that assist cow herders, Gokuldas believes success ultimately depends on the individual. “The government can help, but if you cannot take care of the cows, it’s all useless. They need to be well-fed, treated for illnesses, and monitored closely,” he stresses.
He spends Rs 2,000 on fodder per sack and ensures his cows have access to clean drinking water and proper shelter. Bathing them with a water pump and protecting them from predators and stray dogs are just some of the ways he ensures their well-being.
At 13 years into this trade, Gokuldas knows the road ahead is uncertain. “I will continue this work as long as my health permits,” he says. “If I’m unable to do it, I will sell the cows to another herder who can care for them properly. This work isn’t like an office job; it requires commitment and heart.”
As he reflects on the future, his voice carries both hope and concern. “I feel the next generation won’t see these animals or understand this way of life. Traditions won’t continue if there’s no one to carry them forward. But for now, I’ll keep doing what I can to preserve what my parents passed down to me.”
Gokuldas Shiva Sawant’s story is a testament to the enduring spirit of Goa’s traditional communities. His life is not just a livelihood but a legacy—one he hopes will inspire others to appreciate the traditions that have shaped Goa’s identity for generations.