Large bodies of water like the oceans invariably possess a trail of memory, according to writer and curator Mario D’Souza. Speaking at a recent MOG Sundays event at the Museum of Goa in Pilerne, D’Souza focussed on histories revealed through objects and myths that challenge dominant narratives across the Indian and Atlantic Oceans.
D’Souza, director of programmes at the Kochi Biennale Foundation in Kerala and a curator deeply embedded in collaborative and experimental art practices, has spent years tracing a transoceanic map stretching from ancient inland ports like Chandor to the bustling contemporary art circuits of Kochi, Mauritius and beyond.
“To me, the sea is one of the greatest witnesses of humanity,” he said. “It remembers everybody and everything that has passed through it.”
D’Souza’s recent curatorial investigations have delved into stories of faith, oceanic crossings, colonial displacement and botanical migrations. From rhinos that travelled from Gujarat to Lisbon as political gifts, to water hyacinths gifted by colonial lovers, each artefact and myth opens what he calls “entry points”—ways to access collective memory and explore untold consequences.
He cited the instance of a rhinoceros ferried from Gujarat to Goa and later across the seas to Lisbon, which D’Souza opined, may have become the world’s first taxidermy exhibit as far back as the 16th century.
Gifted by the King of Cambay in present-day Gujarat after he denied the Portuguese trade access, the rhino was brought to Goa and displayed as a royal curiosity. Once it outgrew its enclosure, it was sent to Lisbon via sea, ‘gift-wrapped’ with a green collar, as a present for King Manuel I. The king, seeking papal favour, forwarded it to the Pope, but the ship carrying the rhino sank off Marseille, with the beast aboard.
“The king did not give up. He sent his men to the bottom of the ocean and they recovered the rhino’s dead body. They hollowed it out and stuffed it with hay. So, in many ways, it’s the first taxidermy we can talk about. And it was sent to the Pope,” D’Souza said.
His nearly six-year stint with the Kochi Biennale has allowed D’Souza to spend significant time along southern India’s culturally rich and diverse Malabar coast. “One begins to think about how we can imagine the world beyond the colonial meter.”
D’Souza also underscored the importance of myths, saying a myth should not be construed as a falsehood but as an alternative way of understanding the world. D’Souza’s own upbringing in Goa, surrounded by village myths and torch-lit storytelling, still fuels his perspective. “I grew up in a world where ghosts and saints existed side by side,” he smiled. “And that way of seeing, where nothing is fully this or that, is what I carry forward.”
