While buying train tickets to our next destination in Kerala, I bump into Catherine, a long time British ex-pat we met last year. “If you want a good story, go down to the end of the beach to the “maharajah’s place”, she grins mischievously.

The face of Goa has changed dramatically since independence from Portugal in 1961. Goans were offered the possibility of a Portuguese passport, and many jumped at the chance.  Catholics now account for only 25% of the population, down from 60%, due to the diaspora of Catholics, and the increase of Hindus and Muslims with their large families.  Cruise ships,the Merchant Marine and the Emirates offer high paying jobs, which is reflected in the unusually small size of Goan families. (Men are away  for long periods of time.)

For our morning walk we decide to check out the “maharajah”. At the end of the long sandy stretch of beach  there is a small cove, and we see a cluster of tent structures and a trailer. A man and a woman are busily washing and cooking inside a “work tent”.  They are obviously the servants. In front of the elaborate trailer with solar panels on the roof, sits a neatly bearded man with a gold earring in his left ear. He looks relaxed and carefree in his lounge chair.

The servants working

As we hesitantly approach, he beckons us to come closer. ” I’m Nenni”, he says with a broad grin as he extends his arm for a handshake. Rather than being the “maharajah” himself , he is the driver. “It took us nine days to drive down here from the north. My boss arrives tonight. He is from a royal family, you know. He owns many agricultural farms and businesses. Every year he comes down with his wife and stays for three months”.  We get a tour of the complex.  The blue oblong tent is the outside shower for the servants.  Inside the trailer there is a bedroom with flat screen tv, fully equipped bathroom and shower, and room for lounging.  The outside is fitted with fold down shelving, and storage bins. The dining gazebo is covered in white canvas material, and an electric fan is is blowing the air around the neatly set table. There are two other tents which are for the servants.

Shower tent

dining gazebo with ocean view

NENNI’S STORY

Nenni is a man in his early forties and was born as the only son into a Sikh family. At the age of 17 he decided he wanted to go abroad to work, so he cut off his hair, and removed his turban.  Sikhs have a religious obligation to be unshaven and let their hair grow, covered by a turban.  His fear was that he would be mistaken for a Muslim, and  he wanted to avoid being conspicuous.  Because of this act of rebellion he was disowned by his family. After some years living in Europe, he returned home and was accepted back, and  soon a marriage was arranged. ” We just didn’t get along, so I got a divorce.  Now I will get married next week to a Hindu lady.  I am happy and will open my own chicken restaurant in my village”.  When I asked if he had children, he replied that he has two but doesn’t see them often as they live with their mother far away.  We left with handshakes and hugs all around and our promise to visit him and eat at his restaurant when we pass through that area at the end of our journey.