Nana Patekar versus Saddam Hussain!
For a state that, in season, gives the dhirio preference
even over that other great Goan passion, football, Goa does not
breed fighting bulls but prefers to buy them from the neighbouring
states of Karnataka and Maharashtra.
Depending on bloodlines and such-like arcana, a fighting bull-calf
can set the buyer back anything from Rs 15,000 to Rs 30,000. Then
follows a further expenditure of, on average, Rs 150 a day for
maintenance and training. The richer owners even engage grooms
to keep their charges in good shape, and trainers to ensure that
they are ring-ready when the time comes for them to charge into
battle.
The payoff begins when the bull is ripe for the ring. A debutante
is paid Rs 3,000 for the first fight. A win ensures that the next
paycheck is double the initial amount - and the payoff doubles
itself with each successive win.
The loser, meanwhile, receives a slightly fairer deal than losing
gladiators in Caesar's Coliseum - but not by much. A first defeat
is pardoned, and a second chance given. Another defeat, though,
and the bull is barred from the dhirio for life. Their
owners then tend to hitch them to bullock carts in a bid to get
some return on their unlucky investment or, if they have
no carts or other uses for the disgraced bull, sell them to the
nearest butcher.
Cruelty? But of course, chorus the animal rights activists. The
most high profile of the breed, former federal minister Maneka
Gandhi, fired the first salvo a couple of years ago when, as head
of the People for Animals organisation, she called for an immediate
and total ban of the sport.
"She is right in demanding the ban," says Prabhakar
Timble, a leading activist based in South Goa. "The bullfight
violates the provisions of the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals
Act. Instead of implementing the Act, however, the government
advertises the dhirio as a tourist attraction!"
"If bullfighting is to be banned, then why don't they first
call for a ban on boxing and wrestling?" demands former chief
minister and South Goa MP Churchill Alemao. "What
is this concern for animals, that comes without corresponding
concern for human beings?"
"That is a stupid argument," says PFA activist and practising
vet Dr Gustav Pinto who, in course of his professional career
has had to tend to several of the vanquished combatants of various
dhirios. "Man deliberately chooses to box with another
man; but the bull does not get that freedom of choice!"
"I know the law, but it is wrong to impose it. The dhirio
is popular in the state," shrugs Minister for Animal Husbandry
Chandrakant Chodankar. "The only option is to gradually educate
them and wean them away from the sport."
"It is not just a sport, but also a form of livelihood,"
says prominent bull owner Ajay Karekar of Benaulim. "The
servants who tend to the bulls, the people who hire out the mattovs,
the announcers, the printers who earn a living printing fight
announcements - it is an entire industry!"
An industry, he could have added, that flourishes both in the
cottages and the bungalows of the mighty. Thus, middle class housewife
Anne Dias of St Cruz is a proud owner of a fighting bull - "It
is better to spend money on the bull than having our kids waste
it in drinking and gambling," she argues. And equally proud
of his champion bull Hanuman is Churchill Alemao, one
of the most influential politicos in Goa today.
Over time, the sport has created its own support system. Staffed
with men like Lucas Fernandes, an announcer who, since the early
sixties, is as huge an attraction at the dhirios as the
bulls he heralds into the ring. Or reputed dhirio organisers
like Alexino de Merces, Madan Vaingankar of village Pernem and
Simon Caido of Goa Velha.
Obviously, the economics justify the human involvement. For the
owner, the equation is simple. He spends anywhere up to Rs 100,000
in purchasing a young bull, and rearing and training it to ring-readiness.
Given that a first win nets Rs 3,000, that winnings are doubled
for each successive bout, that the average dhirio spans
between five to seven bouts and champion bulls travel and fight
across the state, a really good bull makes his money back in two
years, maybe less. And from then on, every penny earned in course
of a typical "professional life" of upto six, seven years, is
pure gravy.
For the organiser, the equation is equally simple. His investment
per dhirio, factoring in the rental of corrugated sheets,
the printing of pamphlets and tickets, the hiring of announcers
and the payment of guarantee money to the real top champions,
does not exceed Rs 50,000. Remembering that the size of the stadia
are pretty much left to the discretion of individual organisers,
that the turnstile rate of Rs 35 or more per ticket is for standing
room only, profits in excess of Rs 1.5 million are pretty much
the norm.
In fact - and ironic, in context of the ongoing debate into whether
or not the sport should be banned - an increasing commercialisation
has crept into the sport. Thus, the more famed dhirios
draw advertising sponsorships, and a move is even afoot to pressure
the government into constructing permanent stadia at important
venues.
The last word on the debate comes from a pro-ban activist who
professes himself helpless. "When organisers can earn millions
per year, when bull-owners can sit back and watch the money come
in, when men can go in with a couple of hundred bucks and multiply
it manifold in two hours of betting, when the womenfolk in their
finery join the men in cheering themselves hoarse and when children
are given the added concession of free entry, what hope is there
for any ban to succeed? It's all a waste of time, this argument!"
The average Goan knows this. But another - more crucial argument
continues to rage, gathering heat as D-Day approaches. In feni
bars and family living rooms, on sun swept beaches and somnolent
government offices, the theme is the same - come the final dhirio
in Margao, which bull will emerge the champion of champions? Reigning
champion Birbal, owned by Joaquim Pinto of Fatorda? Or
former champion Hanuman, pride and joy of no less a personage
than Churchill Alemao himself?
Each has its adherents. Birbal has the youth, and strength,
claims one faction. Yes, but Hanuman has weight on his
side, and don't forget his greater experience, goes the other.
Pah, counters the first, you really think that old bag of bones
Hanuman will win? Wanna bet? Okay - Rs 5,000, at 2:1
on Hanuman! Done!!
By D-day, the amount hanging in this particular balance will run
into the millions.
Ah, yes, the date of the epochal showdown at Margao. It is, funnily
enough, a national holiday.
October 2. The day dedicated to the memory of Mohanadas Karamchand
Gandhi aka the Mahatma, whose birth anniversary it is.
On the morning of that day, politicians and the intelligentsia
will pay ritual homage to the champion of ahimsa, of non-violence;
the ultimate apostle of peace.
The same evening, they will jostle with the janta for
admission to the Margao mattov, for the final dhirio
of the season. And once within the rope-ringed enclosure, they
will all - patricians and plebians alike - scream themselves hoarse
as their champions fight to the finish.
Killl himmm, Hanuman!!
Go, Birballllllllllllllll!!
Yeah, right!
Photograph: Alister Miranda
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