In 2008 we began DST workshops in Goa at the University, thanks to the vision of one man - Alito Siqueira. Since that first workshop I facilitated with Alito, we went on to do many more.
It was with deep grief I learnt of the passing away of my mentor and friend after a brief battle with illness.
GoCreat will forever be a testament to the pedagogical innovations and vision of Alito.
RIP friend.
- Gasper
“Hi Gasper! How are you?”
It was Alito on the other end of the line. He had just returned from Mumbai where he had undergone a biopsy for prostate cancer. True to his nature, he first inquired about me.
“How were your tests?” I asked.
“Not good,” he replied, a tone of finality.
I waited then asked, “Why? What’s up?”
“I’ve got cancer of the oesophagus,” he replied.
My mind was racing at this point. Others had been done-in by this dreaded disease. Now it was my close friend. I listened as he described the nature of the cancer and his options. We could well have been discussing reasons why he felt reservations for tribals must carry on.
A professor of sociology at the Goa University, Alito Sequeira was obsessed with details, questioned everything, spent hours in research and zealously tried to understand society and its myriad issues.
Now faced with his own greatest challenge, Alito did just as he always had – he researched and formulated theories.
At the doctor’s office, Alito took it all in with pragmatism.
“Doctor, I’ll be blunt,” he said after a while, “What are my chances?”
“I’d say 30 per cent,” replied the doctor.
“What if I don’t go through with this?” asked Alito.
“I don’t think that’s an option,” said the doctor firmly. “You have a good chance to fight it.”
Later, as we exited Alito said, softly, as if speaking to himself, “Such a thing isn’t it? To not be able to even eat. That’s where this is going.”
“It’s not all bad,” I said foolishly, “be zen.”
“Yes,” he replied, “he says there’s a 70 per cent chance I’d die.”
As we sat in the car, Alito mused, “He seems to think I’ve got the spirit. I don’t know where he sees it.”
*A good teacher moves his students to question everything. A great mentor eggs them on to ask, “who am I?”
I watched Alito work magic at the Sociology department at the Goa University. He challenged his students to accept themselves. The Digital Storytelling Workshops he introduced were academics at its finest. I watched his students present stories that questioned the status quo from their points of view.
Alito did not write much for a man with his knowledge of Goa, sociology, anthropology, history and the inter-disciplinary dynamics of it all. He had an acute form of the catch-all phrase “writers’ block” and was quick to acknowledge this. “I can’t bring myself to write,” he’d say, “I just can’t.”
I may not have the pleasure of holding a book in my hand with “by Alito Siqueira” on its cover. But Alito’s life was a book from which I learnt so much.
Alito believed in the democratisation of knowledge. While pushing his mentees, he had no craving for the limelight. He shunned offers for positions of authority, content being a guide behind the curtains. He could not suck up to higher powers. That cost him dearly.
After retirement, Alito focussed on the rights of the marginalised. I had not seen him so angry as he was when talking about caste politics. For days he would live in villages of Goa I’d not heard of and was distressed with what he observed. It opened my eyes to worlds beyond my own.
To box Alito in any “-ism” would be folly. He was out there in his own Alito-ism: perceptive, inquiring, challenging, and always compassionate – Goa’s maverick professor. Comfortable with royalty and commoners, he shunned his own royalty and preferred commoners.
Alito lived his passion to the end. Hanv Konn turned out to be our last project together. It brings together voices of his students and is a testimony of his dedication to empower people around him, especially those on the margins.
Alito taught me much. He taught me black is never black, nor is white, white. He taught me the real story is in the nuances. He taught me ways of seeing beyond the obvious. He taught me compassion. He taught me pragmatism – even in the face of death. But most of all he taught me life.
I had sent the draft design for the Hanv Konn book when I learnt Alito had suffered a brain haemorrhage. It was only a matter of time I was told.
A few hours later, I got the news I had been dreading to hear.
Alito had helped me deal with issues after my mother died two years ago. Today, I could have gone back to him, and he’d have helped me grieve again.
May you be happy, my friend.
The above appeared in the August 11 edition of The Navhind Times and can be accessed here:
epaper.navhindtimes.in/NewsDetail.aspx?storyid=17088&date=2019-08-12&pageid=1
It was with deep grief I learnt of the passing away of my mentor and friend after a brief battle with illness.
GoCreat will forever be a testament to the pedagogical innovations and vision of Alito.
RIP friend.
- Gasper
Alito Siqueira: Goa's Maverick Professor
“Hi Gasper! How are you?”
It was Alito on the other end of the line. He had just returned from Mumbai where he had undergone a biopsy for prostate cancer. True to his nature, he first inquired about me.
“How were your tests?” I asked.
“Not good,” he replied, a tone of finality.
I waited then asked, “Why? What’s up?”
“I’ve got cancer of the oesophagus,” he replied.
My mind was racing at this point. Others had been done-in by this dreaded disease. Now it was my close friend. I listened as he described the nature of the cancer and his options. We could well have been discussing reasons why he felt reservations for tribals must carry on.
A professor of sociology at the Goa University, Alito Sequeira was obsessed with details, questioned everything, spent hours in research and zealously tried to understand society and its myriad issues.
Now faced with his own greatest challenge, Alito did just as he always had – he researched and formulated theories.
At the doctor’s office, Alito took it all in with pragmatism.
“Doctor, I’ll be blunt,” he said after a while, “What are my chances?”
“I’d say 30 per cent,” replied the doctor.
“What if I don’t go through with this?” asked Alito.
“I don’t think that’s an option,” said the doctor firmly. “You have a good chance to fight it.”
Later, as we exited Alito said, softly, as if speaking to himself, “Such a thing isn’t it? To not be able to even eat. That’s where this is going.”
“It’s not all bad,” I said foolishly, “be zen.”
“Yes,” he replied, “he says there’s a 70 per cent chance I’d die.”
As we sat in the car, Alito mused, “He seems to think I’ve got the spirit. I don’t know where he sees it.”
*A good teacher moves his students to question everything. A great mentor eggs them on to ask, “who am I?”
I watched Alito work magic at the Sociology department at the Goa University. He challenged his students to accept themselves. The Digital Storytelling Workshops he introduced were academics at its finest. I watched his students present stories that questioned the status quo from their points of view.
Alito did not write much for a man with his knowledge of Goa, sociology, anthropology, history and the inter-disciplinary dynamics of it all. He had an acute form of the catch-all phrase “writers’ block” and was quick to acknowledge this. “I can’t bring myself to write,” he’d say, “I just can’t.”
I may not have the pleasure of holding a book in my hand with “by Alito Siqueira” on its cover. But Alito’s life was a book from which I learnt so much.
Alito believed in the democratisation of knowledge. While pushing his mentees, he had no craving for the limelight. He shunned offers for positions of authority, content being a guide behind the curtains. He could not suck up to higher powers. That cost him dearly.
After retirement, Alito focussed on the rights of the marginalised. I had not seen him so angry as he was when talking about caste politics. For days he would live in villages of Goa I’d not heard of and was distressed with what he observed. It opened my eyes to worlds beyond my own.
To box Alito in any “-ism” would be folly. He was out there in his own Alito-ism: perceptive, inquiring, challenging, and always compassionate – Goa’s maverick professor. Comfortable with royalty and commoners, he shunned his own royalty and preferred commoners.
Alito lived his passion to the end. Hanv Konn turned out to be our last project together. It brings together voices of his students and is a testimony of his dedication to empower people around him, especially those on the margins.
Alito taught me much. He taught me black is never black, nor is white, white. He taught me the real story is in the nuances. He taught me ways of seeing beyond the obvious. He taught me compassion. He taught me pragmatism – even in the face of death. But most of all he taught me life.
I had sent the draft design for the Hanv Konn book when I learnt Alito had suffered a brain haemorrhage. It was only a matter of time I was told.
A few hours later, I got the news I had been dreading to hear.
Alito had helped me deal with issues after my mother died two years ago. Today, I could have gone back to him, and he’d have helped me grieve again.
May you be happy, my friend.
The above appeared in the August 11 edition of The Navhind Times and can be accessed here:
epaper.navhindtimes.in/NewsDetail.aspx?storyid=17088&date=2019-08-12&pageid=1
