The dark stains of tourism are beginning to be visible in Ashvem, Mandrem village, as locals whose occupation was toddy tapping, have started to feast on an industry that has changed societal perspectives of a place that, for years, lived devoid of development, but in contentment.
Years ago, this ward of Mandrem was divided amongst Catholics, who lived in houses kissing the beach, and Hindus who lived closer to the fields.
“Ashvem, in the past, was divided into a Catholic ward and a Hindu ward. There were around a 100 Catholic houses and around 50 Hindu houses,” reminiscences Constancio Fernandes.
"And, whilst the former were engaged in toddy tapping, the latter were agriculturists,” informs Constancio.
The families, living closer to the sea, were the first to open their doors to foreigners. And, with the money that came in, most stopped toddy-tapping, and in time, even the coconut trees started being felled.
“It is really sad that the government, in trying to build better roads for us, had to cut coconut trees that were of no hindrance. Earlier, there were coconut trees along the shoreline. Today, there are none,” says a dejected Milagrina.
Once a quiet ward, where villagers lived with open doors, shared the waters from three wells, and made the entire ward feel like a joint family, Ashvem today is a block of houses with little room to walk around and no wells.
“Everyone started building rooms. And, with space becoming scarce, even the wells were filled up and rooms built on them, thus forcing all of us to depend on public water,” reconciles Mateus, as he shares the story that most rooms in the ward are let out to staff working in different restaurants along the coast.
“There are a lot of people from the North East who are working in restaurants,” discloses Fatima who lets out two self-contained rooms.
"Two or three of these people share a room that is normally let out for Rs 10,000, or a bit more, for a month,” says Fatima.
“We had English tourists, who came for years, but now, with the loud music that is being played till 10 pm, most have moved away. I have girls working in restaurants and spas, who stay with me now,” she confesses.
Traditional tiled roofs have given way to slabs. And, according to Rocky, that is because, initially, most feared living in thatched rooms, and later, the demand for rooms with air-conditioning increased.
“Villagers with bigger rooms and with air-conditioning let out their places for around Rs 30,000 a month. In our ward, you have places ranging from Rs 9,000 to Rs 50,000 a month. It depends on who needs what,” reasons Fatima, as a foreigner can be heard howling to the strums of her guitar.
Most houses line the road kissing the beach in Ashvem, and have now been purchased by outsiders and converted into upscale restaurants that cater to clients from across the State.
A coffee at one of these places costs Rs 150 and a snack that could tickle one’s palate is sold for around Rs 300.
“People come here to chill. No other place offers such an environmental setting,” says the manager of a restaurant justifying the pricing.
Ashvem has been in the news in the past, when a Russian living there was arrested with a large quantity of drugs.
“We know that a lot of them (and that includes domestic tourists) smoke drugs, but there is little we can do about it,” admits one of the villagers on condition of anonymity.
That there is a change in lifestyle is evident from the manner in which village elders meet in the evenings to gossip. As the ladies chin-wag, one of those who rents rooms, returns from work and wishes everyone as she walks in.
“Watch. In a short while, she will come out and a man will pick her up for the night,” says one lady with a little care.
In a while, a man arrives, picks up the lady and the gossip continues as Ashvemkars, today, submit to the stain of tourism.
