The Socegad Manifesto

I believe in rice that takes walks every afternoon; in the sun that shimmers on the tips of each stalk; the subsequent laughter that spills onto the road that speeds through the paddy fields of Goa.

I believe in Goa incarnated on the mud-made face of an old man who I know plays pranks and music with his children, an imaginary drop of feni clings to his bushy moustache, his clay eyebrows glint with hints of knowing as he rests sublimely on my yellow wall.

I believe in the yellow walls that surround our khatia. They soak the sunlight every morning and glare at our knotted bodies as we crawl our of slumber, he and I…