From the Corridors of Power to the Heart of Goa: A Personal Journey

 From the Corridors of Power to the Heart of Goa: A Personal Journey

John Aguiar

Life in the heart of Lutyens' Delhi is often defined by the gravitas of its landmarks—the red sandstone of North and South Blocks, the strategic hum of government business, and the proximity to power. 

As the Assistant Private Secretary to the former Union Minister, Shri Eduardo Faleiro, my days were anchored in this high-stakes environment. Yet, looking back, the most profound memories of that time aren't found in policy papers, but in the echoes of Gurbani from the Bangla Sahib Gurdwara drifting into our DIZ area quarters, and the personal transformation that began with a phone call.

A Tale of Two Cities

My journey to Delhi was preceded by a connection to the Herald office in Goa. There was a friend there—a woman who would later become my wife, Savita. In those early days, we synchronized our schedules; I would arrive early at my desk in the Ministry and she at hers in Goa, just to steal those precious minutes of conversation across the telephone lines before the workday began.

When we married and I brought her to Delhi, the transition was a vibrant one. Savita transformed our house into a home. New utensils from Sadar Bazar replaced the old, and in a symbolic gesture of our new life together, old liquor bottles were emptied into the sink. She navigated the city with spirit, hiring cycle rickshaws to hunt for the freshest fish in Gole Market to bring a taste of Goa to the capital. My life felt truly complete.

Trials and Tribulations

Our time was punctuated by beautiful escapes—touring Shimla, exploring the wilds of Sariska, and visiting the "Pink City" of Jaipur alongside the Minister and his family. However, life soon brought its challenges. A sudden, agonizing pain in my abdomen led to an emergency trip to Dr. Ram Manohar Lohia (RML) Hospital. Diagnosed with a kidney stone, I was fortunate that medical management allowed it to pass without surgery.

Hardly had I recovered when we received the joyous news: we were to become parents. Under the care of Dr. Nalini Singh at RML, we felt secure. But then, malaria struck the DIZ area. Seeing Savita struggle with the fever while three months pregnant was harrowing. Because of her condition, doctors could only administer Chloroquine; Primaquine was off-limits. Worried and feeling isolated in Delhi, I made a difficult choice: I sent her back to the safety of her mother’s home in Goa.

The Midnight Miracle

In Goa, Savita was under the watchful eye of Dr. Anjali Kamat at the Ribandar hospital. The months passed in a blur of long-distance anxiety until the day I received a terrifying message: Savita had been hospitalized, and the delivery was complicated by the umbilical cord being wrapped around the baby’s neck.

Stuck in Delhi due to urgent ministerial matters, I felt helpless. That evening, in a twist of fate, I found myself at Goa Sadan, where I ran into Dr. M.N. Pal, a Professor of Gynaecology who was in town for a conference. Recognizing my distress, he immediately called the Goa Medical College (GMC). The silence as he waited for an answer felt like an eternity. Finally, he hung up, turned to me with a smile, and extended his hand:

> "You have been blessed with a baby boy."

The rush of relief and joy was indescribable. The prestige of the North and South Blocks suddenly paled in comparison to the pull of my family. The very next day, I left my post and flew back to Goa, trading the corridors of power for the greatest role of my life: being a father.