Posts Tagged ‘History’
GOA WAS BETTER OFF IN THE HANDS OF THE PORTUGUESE…….
Posted by: lilliandcosta on: May 4, 2009
- In: Goa
- 3 Comments
GOA WAS BETTER OFF IN THE HANDS OF THE PORTUGUESE…….
‘Goa was better off in the hands of the Portuguese’ I’ve heard this rhetoric before, as have many of you who hail from Goa. People say this more as a reaction to the frustration they feel about the current situation in the State, but imagine my [...]
Goa’s heritage needs protection
Posted by: lilliandcosta on: April 19, 2009
- In: Goa
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The other day breezing through the online papers of Goa I came across this report where in a well known lecturer and writer of Goan History Mr Prajal Sakhardande, expressed his concern about the deteriorating condition of heritage structures in Goa.
Earlier this month I happened to be in Goa and was taking [...]
Lillian @ Poetry
- Advertising Cloud 9The horizon in shades of green,Water tanks, blue and black,Clothes of all hues waving in the breeze.Cloud 9 advertising its services,Who would think, it would need to?But it does,Its the recession.
- Untitledoh why does my soul refuse to rest.it bounds up,against gravity,like there were thorns that pricked its underside.refusing it rest.oh my soul has a bloody breasta weary heartthat longs to rest,but somehow each night is dayin its unending search to run away.
- UntitledI stare out,As the orange-pink of sunsetFades away into silhouettes,Large dark trees, rise upAnd the cold road leads away.The breeze whips at my face,The curtains buffeted in the strong wind,Fly around uncontrollably like shreds,My heart feels the same,As it leaves sweet memories behind.Parting can never be harder.15th April 2009
- Happy Women’s Day?.......... I beg your pardonIts 8th March, International Women’s DayBut she doesn’t know it.She wakes up at 6.00 a.m,like she has for the last 12 years,her mental clock and love for her family helps her up.she fills the rice into the cooker, chops up the vegetables in the yellow light of the bulb.The chickens in their coop stir, at the first break of light.the brass pot rolls down on t […]
- Un-namedI want to writeBut wordsTremble within meThen die.I dig through my memoryFor experiencesFor verseBut all I find is gooey morass.I yearn to riseBe the bestBut the forceEludes meA phantom. There they areThe first buds of springOr is it a mirageThe sightings of a deluded soul8th February 2008
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