Novem Goem: The Roof Caves In
Paul J FernandesPaul Fernandes, known to journalists in the state for
his amiable nature, as also his ability and inclination
to do off-beat and far-from-the-beaten-track stories,
has published a vast amount on issues that concern
rural Goa, archaeology and the average resident of Goa.
He was recently winner of a Centre for Science and
Environment (Delhi) fellowship to study water issues in
Goa.
Konkani as the official language of Goa was then still
a distant dream. And granting of statehood to the Union
Territory, a remote possibility. A few Konkani
protagonists casually discussing the issue felt that a
medium was sorely needed to project the aspirations of
true Goans. And only a "people's newspaper" free from
the shackles of the capitalist could achieve that, they thought.
A few years earlier, Uzvadd, reincarnated as Novo Uzvadd
and Novo Prakash, had become defunct after its editor
Evagrio Jorge learnt a few bitter truths. The Herald --
in its new English-language avatar as also in the
much-touted role of a champion of Konkani -- was yet to
appear on the horizon.
It was then in 1980 on a dark night ... in Panjim ...
that the idea of launching a Konkani daily was born.
And talk about the requirement of funds for the mammoth
project threw up a novel idea. The way out was a 'pad-iatra
' (or, long march across Goa on foot) through the
villages of the then union territory. At a follow-up
meeting, the individuals involved formed a Trust --
called the Novem Goem Pratishthan. They crowned the
then young seminary-student turned trade union leader
Christopher Fonseca, who floated the idea of a
pad-iatra, as its general secretary.
Trustees were Sara Machado, Advocate Pandurang
Mulgaonkar, Gurunath Kelekar, Dr F M Rebello, Advocate
Antonio Lobo, and Gustav Clovis Costa. Mathany Saldanha
and Fr Braz Faleiro played a stellar role in getting
the idea through.
And so began an eventful, and an unforgettable, 70-day
trudge through the nooks and corners of Goa. There were
some 70-odd volunteers, which included a few women and
two vivacious sisters, Tina and Colete Xavier, students
at that time.
The pad-iatra started on October 26, 1980. Fonseca
recalls that wherever they went, they received a good
response. Money, small and big sums, was contributed.
There were occasions too when -- language being a
sensitive issue in Goa -- they were insulted. But they
had decided not to retaliate in any way. A person spat
on a young pad-iatri, Srikant Chodankar, when he
knocked at his door for his contribution for the new
paper. But he bravely said 'thank you' and stepped out
with the others.
Two of the girls accompanying him burst into tears, as
participants from that venture recall.
The eventful 'pad-iatra' ended on December 31, New
Year's eve. By then, the volunteers had managed to
collect around Rs 250,000, a tidy sum considering that
this was just in the start of the 'eighties, when the
rupee still had more value than now.
Needless to say, it took about six months to create the
requisite infrastructure to launch the daily. Finding
premises, purchasing machinery and recruiting the
staff. When the Novem Goem first hit the stands in
1980, many naturally had great expectations that it
would serve as a people's paper. Several dailies in the
past had not survived for long, given the huge
requirement of funds
Indeed, Novem Goem could not scale great heights; but
it had many 'lows' during its span. The coverage could
not be extensive, nay it was even below average. This
is perhaps understandably because the publication could
not engage a big team of reporters or set up a network
of reporters in all corners of Goa. But it carried to
work with few expectations and fewer rewards.
During the agitation, the tabloid served to keep the
mass of Konkani lovers, specially in its heartland of Salcete,
if it can be called that, posted of various
developments. The paper served to forge a relationship
and bridge the gap between the old Roman Konkani
writers and those who had just started writing in the
Devnagri script. Well-known poets, writers, such as
Uday Bhembre, Dr Bhikaji Ganekar, Manoharrari Sardesai
were among those who often contributed their writings
to the paper.
The paper also sought to raise the standard of Konkani
among its readers by often explaining difficult words,
as compared to the poor quality of writing in most
Roman script periodicals. I myself recall contributing
to a column Aichim Don Utram (Today's Two Words), which
gave the readers two new words to learn daily, with
meanings in English and also illustrated by examples.
'Konkni uloi, Konkni boroi, Konknintlean sorkar choloi'
(Speak Konkani, Write Konkani, Administer The State In
Konkani), the slogan coined by one of the trustees,
Gurunath Kelekar, gained currency and set the mood
among Konkani lovers.
While the paper finally closed down, coincidentally, it
did so after Konkani was included in the Eight Schedule
of the Constitution of India and Goa was granted
statehood -- two of the avowed objectives for which the
Trust had launched the paper. Many may be skeptical
about the contribution of this small paper to these two
great and important causes. But having worked in this
paper for just over three years as a sub-editor, I
recall that Dr Rebello, as its editor, contributed
significantly to the chorus for the twin demand.
DURING THE ENTIRE existence of the paper, its
management had to face several struggles and even
upheavals among the trustees.
Its problems started from the day the presses were set
up. While an offset machine could have been bought, a
Glockner machine owned by one of the Trustees was sold
to the Trust. With that, it was only possible to print
a tabloid paper. The machinery subsequently gave
several problems. How a newspaper cannot survive
without infusion of frequent doses of capital was best
exemplified here. Advertising revenue was very low,
though there were phases when its staff pooled their
efforts to raise funds by canvassing for advertisements
through their own initiative. There were managerial
problems, too. With lack of experience in running a
paper, and negligence by some of the Trustees at
certain stages, the roof finally had to cave in.
A former trustee alleges that the quantum of
advertisements released by the government to the paper
was meagre, and the staff even led a morcha to the
Secretariat, alleging shabby treatment. This continued
even after Konkani was made the official language of
the state.
If the paper survived for around a decade, it could be
termed as a miracle of sorts. There were around 7,000
readers, who religiously read the daily. However, the
poor coverage towards the end saw its readership go
down sharply. The emergence of a slickly printed and
produced Konkani-monthly Gulab also hastened its death.
However, there was no dearth of sympathisers. Gulf Goans
contributed generously, and quite often, to keep it
afloat. But tiatrists were largely not among them as
they showed apathy towards it vis-a-vis advertisements
of their shows. They preferred an English-language
daily and very few advertised in Novem Goem, if at all rarely.
The real heroes and the sufferers in the bargain were
the Novem Goem workers, who toiled during its entire
10-year existence. Lack of revenue meant that they
often received their salaries late. On the 10th of any
month, it was not unusual for the management to
announce they would give some advance on the salary.
For one thing, the salary was being delayed; over and
above, to be told that they would get it in
installments was the ultimate affront. More so when
these were people with families to feed. But this went
on month after month, specially during the last few years.
They were entitled to a scale of salaries under Palekar
Wage Award -- the Central Government-notified standards
then in force for minimum wages to be paid to
journalists -- but they accepted graciously whatever
they were offered. This was, naturally, much below the
Wage Board recommendations.
And the employees, having few options, hung on with
commendable courage, though there was no hope of a turn
around. Their toil and sacrifices were really something
to think about. After the paper closed, they should
have received their dues from what came in as the
proceeds from the sale of machinery and the balance of
a raffle draw, which had been floated to raise funds
for the paper.
But they are yet to be given their due.
The paper finally went to bed for the last time some
time in June 1988. And a novel experiment to offer a
people's paper to the masses made a quiet and sad
exit....