Casinos On Our River Poem by Bernedita Rosinha Pinto

Those cities, those roads
our ancestors have lived and walked,
our forefathers have saved those huge trees
which stand so tall,
under which we stood when the sun was hot
or under which we stood to save ourselves
from sudden showers of the monsoon rains;
yet they keep cutting those trees
without considering how many years
it took them to grow.
When we walked back from our morning strolls
the cold breeze upon our chests would strike
expanding our lungs, enhancing our inhalation
this breeze, these winds came
from our very own river flowing down our city;
it is just one large river where many ships sailed
of many statures, fame and sizes.
We never let our rivers get invaded,
even the little canoes would rush away
after their fishing nets were gathered.
But now they have come to stay
those many casino vessels;
do they belong to our Goan brethren?
These Casinos invite the young and the old to gamble,
with food, drinks and entertainment so galore
how much they revel and regale those who come there
only they know their gains and losses,
their joys and perils,
the dance performances, the enjoyment so certain
that hordes of people travel by air plane on week-ends
from North to West, with full enthusiasm
to experience the game and gaiety on these Casinos
so distinct from the simplicity of our Goan culture.
Is this why our forefathers had preserved this river
that now it gets invaded by those Casino boats
which baffles the serenity of our city?
Had our ancestors asked the colonists to go back
telling them our land, our rivers
should belong to our future generations?
Is this the gift of freedom
that we have to choose to be silent
and accept such trespasses?