​A Final Salute to my First Director: The Lasting Legacy of Rameshchandra Jatkar

 

​A Final Salute to my First Director: The Lasting Legacy of Rameshchandra Jatkar

​By John Aguiar

​The news of the passing of Rameshchandra Jatkar has stirred a deep well of memories within me. He was the first Director I served under when I joined the department of Information and Publicity as Information Assistant in 1990, and his influence shaped the very foundation of my professional life. Though he retired long ago and returned to the quietude of his hometown, his shadow remained long and protective over those of us he mentored.
​A Masterclass in Integrity
​Mr. Jatkar was a man who truly loved his work. For him, the Department of Information and Publicity wasn’t just a government office; it was a craft to be mastered with precision and passion. He was the personification of "Satat Karyamagna"—always engaged, always striving.
​I carry his voice in my head even today. He was a staunch advocate for the "long road," constantly reminding me that there are no shortcuts to true success. In an era where power can be intoxicating, he was a beacon of restraint. I distinctly remember that he never once used his official government vehicle for personal errands—a level of integrity that seems almost legendary today.
​A Fortuitous Final Meeting in Goa
​Life has a strange way of closing circles. Shortly before my own retirement—and, as it turned out, not long before his passing—Mr. Jatkar visited Goa. I was fortunate enough to spend time with him during that visit.
​Seeing him again after so many years was a gift. Even in his advanced years, his mind was sharp, and his spirit was as encouraging as ever. We spoke of the old days, the evolution of media, and the importance of staying true to oneself. He repeated the advice that had become his hallmark:
​"John, work hard, stay honest, and don't let the stress get to you. Solutions always find their way to those who are patient."
​That interaction left a deep and lasting mark on me. It felt as though he was passing the torch one last time, ensuring that the values he instilled in me decades ago were still intact as I prepared to conclude my own career.
​A Quiet Departure
​It was a profound shock to learn that shortly after that meeting, he succumbed to a COVID-related ailment. To think that the vibrant, principled man I had just shared a conversation with was suddenly gone felt surreal.
​Mr. Jatkar was an "Apvadatmak Manushya"—an exceptional human being. He proved that you can reach the top of your profession while keeping your hands clean and your heart open. Though he has moved on to his "Antantachya Pravasa" (Eternal Journey), the lessons he taught me in 1990, and reinforced during that final meeting in Goa, will stay with me forever.
​May his soul find eternal peace. Farewell, Sir.

A sketch

Respecting and Celebrating Our Shared Heritage ​By John Aguiar

 

Respecting and Celebrating Our Shared Heritage

​By John Aguiar

​As the festive season approaches, our home begins to glow with the anticipation of Deepotsav. Every year, we welcome Diwali with great fervor. The celebrations start early in the morning, following the ritual burning of the Narkasur effigy, as we light traditional lamps and hang lanterns (Akashkandils) throughout our home. Following the ritual morning bath, we savor the traditional bitter fruit and enjoy five different varieties of poha.

​A Blend of Traditions

​My life is a beautiful tapestry of mixed cultures. My wife, Savita, and our children, Navdeep and Anjali, are Hindu, and I wholeheartedly join the family in celebrating these festivals. Since 2016, we have also been celebrating Ganesh Chaturthi, performing the Ganesh Puja at our home in Pheni, Verem.

​While we immerse ourselves in Hindu traditions, we also celebrate Christmas and Easter with equal joy. I fondly remember my childhood when we would make handmade lanterns at home weeks before Diwali. Today, life is busier, and we often buy ready-made lamps, but the spirit remains unchanged. My son, Navdeep, married a Hindu girl, Navyashi, and I am now the proud grandfather of a grandson named Niwan.

​Roots and Language

​I am the only son in my family, and my mother was Hindu (GSB). Growing up, Diwali was the most joyful time—filled with memories of firecrackers and endless boxes of sweets.

​People are often surprised to hear me speak Konkani with a Hindu accent, write Hindu devotional songs (Bhaktigeete), or compose Marathi songs. Though I studied in an English medium school at St. Mary’s High School, it was my mother’s vision that shaped me. She was a retired Marathi primary school teacher and taught me Marathi at home, narrating stories from the Puranas and the fundamentals of Hindu culture. Simultaneously, my father, aunt, and cousins instilled in me the foundations of the Christian faith.

​The Philosophy of "Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam"

​Every year, we look forward to Diwali—the new clothes, the evening Puja performed by my wife, and the delicious spread of sweets. Our celebrations of Christmas and Easter are equally traditional. We live by the motto "Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam"—the belief that the entire world is one family.

​It is vital that children learn to respect and celebrate their joint heritage. Because of the initiative taken by their parents, our children love the grandeur of these traditions. Our festivals are an explosion of color, from the attire to the cuisine, and seeing my children take pride in their Indian heritage brings me immense joy.

​Multiculturalism is a healthy way to look at the world. We strive to give our children a life of integrity and hope they grow up to be good global citizens. I feel incredibly fortunate to live such a diverse and culturally rich life.

A Symphony of Two Souls: Our Journey of Love and Faith

 

A Symphony of Two Souls: Our Journey of Love and Faith

​By John Aguiar

​They say marriages are made in heaven, but I believe our "Lagnagaath" (wedding knot) was specifically scripted by the Creator. How else could a boy from Ponda and a girl from Panaji find their worlds colliding in such a perfect harmony?

​The Beginning: Where Words Met

​Our story began in the bustling environment of the Herald newspaper office in October 1984. I had joined the editorial department as a reporter, and Savita was working in the accounts section. What started as professional proximity soon blossomed into a deep, respectful friendship.

​I remember the shift vividly. When I left for Delhi to serve as a secretary to Mr. Eduardo Faleiro, the distance only made the heart grow fonder. In those days, "Telecom" was our only bridge. A day without hearing Savita’s voice felt incomplete, like a sentence without a verb. It was during those long-distance calls that I realized Savita wasn't just a friend; she was the "poetry of my life."

​Choosing Love Over Walls

​Coming from different religious backgrounds—I a Christian and she a Hindu—we knew the path wouldn't be without hurdles. But love isn't about winning a race; it’s about the willingness to sacrifice and understand.

​My mother, a woman of deep Hindu roots who had her own interfaith marriage, was my greatest support. She had raised me with a profound respect for Marathi culture and literature. When I approached Savita’s parents, there was initial hesitation, but true love has a way of silencing doubts. On July 16, 1988, we officially united, marking the beginning of our "Sanskriti Sangam" (Union of Cultures).

​A Home Without Borders

​For decades now, our home has been a testament to the fact that God is one, even if the paths to Him vary.

• ​Festivals: In our house, we celebrate Diwali with the same fervor as Christmas. We light the Akash-kandil and also decorate the Christmas tree.
• ​Daily Devotion: Savita visits the Church with the same devotion with which I bow before the deity at the Shantadurga temple. I keep a photo of the Goddess at my workplace because I see my mother's faith in it.
• ​Tradition: From the Tulsi Vrindavan in our courtyard to the festive Gudi Padwa celebrations, we have embraced every ritual that brings peace and joy.

​The True Meaning of Union

​People often ask about the challenges of an interfaith marriage. My answer is simple: there are only two "castes" in this world—Man and Woman. When we leave this earth, we all go to the same place. Why fight over the path when the destination is identical?

​Arguments happen in every marriage—we are no exception—but we’ve learned to "play the game" of life with a smile. Savita has been the steady rhythm to my melody.

​Looking back, I am convinced that our meeting wasn't a coincidence. It was destiny. Our bond was tied by the Creator himself, and today, as we continue this journey, I can truly say: Savita is the poem that makes my life worth reading.

From Schoolboy to Staff Reporter: My Journalistic Journey

 

From Schoolboy to Staff Reporter: My Journalistic Journey 

By John Aguiar 

​For me, journalism wasn’t just a career choice—it was a calling that began while he was still in school. His journey reflects the evolution of the Goan press, from the era of Portuguese-language tabloids to the digital age, marked by high-stakes reporting and a deep commitment to the community.

​Early Beginnings and Mentorship

​My career launched in 1978 at O Heraldo, which was then a Portuguese-Konkani daily. While still a student, I served as a reporter for the paper's Konkani section. My transition into the English-language press happened almost by accident. While a student at Chowgule College in Margão, I often delivered press notes to the West Coast Times office.

​It was there that Valmiki Faleiro recognized my potential and recruited me as the Ponda correspondent. Under the mentorship of Faleiro and Bureau Chief Gurudas ‘Kaka’ Singbal, I learned the ropes of the "daily beat," transitioning from typewriters to the computers that would eventually transform the industry.

​Breaking the Big Stories

​My career is defined by several landmark reports that captured the political and social pulse of Goa:

​The "Presidential Curtain": During President Giani Zail Singh’s visit to Ponda, I broke the story of how authorities used white curtains to hide local slums from the President’s view. The story made front-page news.

​The Charles Sobhraj Files: As a crime reporter, I used his network to gain access to the interrogation statements of the notorious "Bikini Killer" Charles Sobhraj and his associate David Hall after their arrest. His three-day "bottomspread" series on their planned escape from Tihar Jail became a career highlight.

​Prime Ministerial Encounters: I once managed to talk his way onto a requisitioned ferry during the late 1980s (following the collapse of the Mandovi Bridge) to secure an exclusive interview with then-Prime Minister V.P. Singh.

​Reporting Under Fire

​The job was not without its dangers. During the Konkani language agitation, I was on the front lines. I witnessed firsthand the police lathi charges against activists and journalists. These experiences led to significant reforms, including the Department of Information and Publicity issuing "Press" shoulder bands to help identify and protect journalists during civil unrest.

​A Legacy of Leadership

​I was a pioneer in organizing the local journalistic community in Goa. I  helped found the Ponda Taluka Journalists Association—the first taluka-level association in the state—and later served as Vice President of the revived South Goa Journalists Association (SGJA).

​A Professional and Personal Union

​Interestingly, My  professional life and personal life converged at O Heraldo. It was at the newspaper that I met my wife, Savita, who worked in the accounts department. In a lighthearted nod to his reputation, a subsequent anniversary issue of the paper joked in its editorial that their "crime reporter" had "eloped" with an accounts staffer to New Delhi.

​Reflecting on the Craft

​Today, I emphasize a shift in journalistic values advocating  for moving away from the "get it first" mentality toward a "get it right" philosophy. To me, journalism remains one of the most rewarding careers in India—not just for the thrill of the scoop, but for the ability to serve as a pillar of democracy and a voice for the community.

Reflections on Ravi: From the Volleyball Court to the Secretariat

 

Reflections on Ravi: From the Volleyball Court to the Secretariat

​By John Aguiar

​The news of Ravi Naik's passing has unlocked a vault of memories. To the world, he was a former Chief Minister and a titan of Goan politics. To me, he was the man who called me "Kamal Haasan" and the leader I stood beside since our youth.

​The Early Days: Building a Movement

​Long before he was a household name, Ravi was a man of the people.

• ​The Athlete: I remember watching him dominate the volleyball court for the Jawahar Club of Ponda. His athleticism was a precursor to the energy he would later bring to the political arena.
• ​The Mentor: Even before he was given his first political ticket, Ravi was already at work. He would take me along to late-night meetings in remote villages and local temples, building the foundation of his support. No matter how late the discussions went, he always made sure to drop me home safely in the middle of the night.

​Champion of the Grassroots

​Our bond was forged in the struggle for the common man.

• ​The Mundkar Struggle: Together, we formed the Goa-Daman-Diu Kul Mundkar Sanghatana. We toured every corner of the state, resolving the deep-seated issues of tenant farmers.
• ​Action in Canacona: I vividly recall when journalist Ajit Paingankar broke the news about illegal tree felling in Poinguinim, Canacona. Without hesitation, Ravi headed there, and we stood our ground to protect the environment.

​A Career of Service

​Under the guidance of Shashikala Kakodkar, Ravi rose through every rank of our democracy:

• ​Local Governance: From Corporator to President of the Ponda Municipal Council.
• ​State & National Leadership: Serving as MLA, MP, and eventually Chief Minister.
• ​Personal Pride: It was a full-circle moment for me when I began working in the Information and Publicity Department while he served as the Information Minister.

​The "Kamal Haasan" Bond

​What I will miss most is his wit. Because of my curly hair, Ravi always insisted I resembled the actor Kamal Haasan. It became our "thing."

​Even four days before his death, when I met him at the Secretariat, he didn't want to talk about heavy politics. Instead, he started making fun of me with that familiar twinkle in his eye, reminding me once again that I was his "Kamal Haasan."

​Ravi Naik was a leader of the Bahujan Samaj, but to those of us who knew him from the start, he was a loyal friend who never forgot where he came from.

The Golden Glow of a Ponda Christmas: A Journey Back in Time

 

The Golden Glow of a Ponda Christmas: A Journey Back in Time

By John Aguiar

​In the heart of Goa, where the red earth of Ponda meets the lush greenery of the 1960s, Christmas wasn't just a day on a calendar—it was a season that transformed the world. Looking back through the eyes of a six-year-old, the memories of Ponda Tiska fifty years ago feel like a faded, beautiful postcard, smelling of pine needles and fresh neureos.

​The Magic of the Tiska Canopy

​Back then, the stretch from Tiska to the Civil Court was a cathedral of nature. Massive, ancient trees arched over the road, creating a cool, shaded tunnel. For a child, these trees weren't just landmarks; they were the source of Christmas itself.

​My cousins would venture out to these giants, bringing back branches to build the Nativity Crib (the Presepio) in our hall. It wasn't just a small manger; it was an entire landscape. My cousins were engineers of imagination, crafting:

• ​Handmade houses with tiny glowing bulbs.
• ​Miniature waterfalls powered by hidden pipes.
• ​The Pine Tree: A real tree decorated with care, with a mounting pile of gifts tucked beneath its boughs.

​The Longest Wait

​For a young boy, the days leading up to the 25th felt like an eternity. To pass the time and quiet the "is it Christmas yet?" jitters, I would sit for hours coloring Christmas books. Meanwhile, the house was a hive of activity. The "Consuada" (traditional sweets) preparation began a month early. The scent of frying kulkuls and the rich aroma of dodol filled the air, acting as a delicious countdown to the big day.

​Midnight Bells and New Shoes

​Christmas in Ponda centered around the Mount Carmel Chapel. The atmosphere was electric. There is a specific kind of joy only a child knows: the feeling of wearing a crisp, new outfit stitched by your father and the "click-clack" of brand-new shoes on the chapel floor.

​When the bells began to peal across the quiet Ponda night, it signaled the start of the Midnight Mass. The music—led by my cousins who were maestros with the violin—wasn't just sound; it was a feeling that stayed with me for a lifetime.

​"The preparations—the cards, the stamps, the carols—were a language of love we sent out to the world, from Ponda to relatives far across the seas."

​Tradition: Then and Now

​As the years rolled by, the geography of my life shifted from the hills of Ponda to the streets of Panaji. Yet, the spirit of that Ponda childhood remained.

​Today, my home is a beautiful blend of Goan culture. My wife and children, though Hindu, build the crib with the same fervor I had as a boy. We celebrate Ganesh Chaturthi and Diwali with the same heart we give to Christmas.

​I still remember the "Santa years"—sneaking into my children's rooms to leave gifts by their beds, keeping the magic alive just a little longer. They eventually figured out who the "Santa" in the house was, but the sparkle in their eyes never truly left.

​A Legacy of Memories

​The trees on the Tiska road may be gone, sacrificed to the widening of roads, but the roots of those memories run deep. At 65, with 64 Christmases under my belt, I realize that the best gift wasn't under the pine tree—it was the warmth of a family that celebrated together, across faiths and across generations.