A tin of sardines....

Whenever we had visitors who in all probability would be staying over for lunch, people were always staying over for lunch, there was hardly any transport and guests were part of the daily routine.  So if there was going to be a guest, who at the moment was relaxing, been given comfortable slippers and was staying over for lunch, the Dona-de-casa sent her young child to the nearby grocer’s shop ‘Loja de Lataria e Vinhos finos’ for a tin of sardines.

Carefully, the tin was prised open, the sardines were removed and with infinite care placed on a travessa, the cat meanwhile delicately licked the remnants of the brine or oil still lingering in the now open tin. Onions were cut in very fine rings, if the guest was lucky and there were tomatoes these were cut in roundels, a delicate vinaigrette added to the onions. The onion and tomato salad surrounded the sardines placed in the centre of the travessa. The edge of the travessa was wiped very carefully for any fingerprints of oil.

Of course, the sardines were not the only food at the table, the food that was always eaten for lunch was there too, rice, fish curry, fried fish, a beef dish and maybe a dish of vegetables.

The sardines were in honour of the guest who taken the trouble to visit the family.

There was nothing special about the shop selling all these fine goods, they were definitely not called gourmet shops, it was our next door neighbour, Militão Fernandes, who ran a shop selling not only these  fine goods but everything that was required in the village, a grocery shop.

Militão Fernandes a very tall gentleman ran the shop with his wife; his house was overloaded with gourmet goods rubbing shoulders with ordinary stuff like soap and kerosene. It was not considered special to sell all types of olives, olive oil, tinned sardines, salmon and even tinned peas, wines such as Macieira, Granjó, Tinto, Whisky and of course Genebra were always available.

Who knew anything about Gourmet goods?

But Militão Fernandes’ foray into entrepreneurship began much before his Loja, he and a group of nine partners pooled in a princely sum of Rupias Eight Thousand and bought a Batliboi rice husking machine from Bombay. The story goes that the Manager at Batliboi regretted selling the husking machine to Militão and partners; he even offered to pay them an additional sum of Rupias Six Thousand if they would return the husking machine. But our dynamic partners refused the kind offer.

At that time, there was a tremendous need for a husking machine, Militão and his partners plunged into this opportunity, this husking machine ran from 6 in the morning to Midnight, with staff working on shifts. It was a tremendous success with people from neighbouring villages coming in droves to get their rice polished.

Militão Fernandes however was not really happy with just a husking machine, that too in partnership, he went to Bombay slogged as a compounder of medicines in a Doctor’s Clinic, saved every penny and got his ‘Loja de Lataria e Vinhos finos’ going in 1924. Whatever Militão Fernandes touched turned to gold, no wonder then that his shop was another huge success.

At the Doctor’s he had picked up a great deal of information, he started mixing his own Ayurvedic potions and ointments.

If you had terrible burns, you did not rush to the doctor or the chemist, you rushed to Militão who gave you an ointment which you rubbed oh so gently on your burns and voilá you were cured with not even a scar to show.

 If your baby had tummy pains, Militão to the rescue with an ointment that left the little guy smiling. Oh yes, Militão was doing exceedingly well.

And then you realise with a pang, there is no longer a ‘Loja de Lataria e Vinhos finos’ and you wonder why, what really happened? To these questions, Militão’s son Caetaninho replies,

‘It closed in 1954’ ‘the year my brother João Pedro said his First Mass.’

We discuss this troublesome happening and although we do not say it in so many words, we realise the reason.

The setting was that of a Portuguese Colony, all around the village there were only Catholics. Having a business was not really a wholesome activity. If you were brave enough to ask,

‘Why are Hindus so successful in businesses?’

 A ferocious glare was directed your way and somebody said in a harsh whisper,

‘They know how to rob, they bend the rules, and they have no morals and principles.’

Forget the streak of entrepreneurship that Hindus have, or the money sunk in enterprises, or the risks taken. All that was said was ‘they were good in business because they know how to bend rules.’

So you can well imagine Militão’s pride when his son became a Priest. The respect his family now had in the village was immense. No longer would it be called the Shopkeeper’s house but the Priest’s house.

But on the other hand, it must have been a terrible, terrible wrench for Militão to close an enterprise that he had built single- handedly from scratch with his hard earned savings.

Militão’s lived in an age of repression as well as envy and jealousy. A Doctor who lived in the village and who  had the most abysmal practise, with hardly a living soul in his Consulting room complained to the authorities that Militão was selling spurious drugs, that is an offence as we all know.

Militão feared the worst and discontinued his Ayurvedic drugs.

He must have been a really dispirited person to see so much of his effort and work washed away through no fault of his.

They say that genetic traits skip a generation and so it is in the case of Militão, his grandson, Joseph runs a very successful Chemist Shop. But what really would have made Militão gloat with pride is that his Ayurvedic potions and ointments are sold openly with pride and nobody thinks of complaining to the authorities. We in India know all about Ayurveda...

I must apologise deeply to any Hindus reading this blog. I most definitely do not believe Hindus are successful in business because they know how to rob, they bend the rules, and they have no morals and principles. It was ignorance talking and a great deal of envy. Nevertheless I do apologise deeply.