Nana Patekar versus Saddam Hussain!

Depending on bloodlines and such-like arcana, a fighting bull-calf can set the buyer back anything from Rs 15,000 to Rs 30,000. Then follows a further expenditure of, on average, Rs 150 a day for maintenance and training. The richer owners even engage grooms to keep their charges in good shape, and trainers to ensure that they are ring-ready when the time comes for them to charge into battle.

The payoff begins when the bull is ripe for the ring. A debutante is paid Rs 3,000 for the first fight. A win ensures that the next paycheck is double the initial amount - and the payoff doubles itself with each successive win.

The loser, meanwhile, receives a slightly fairer deal than losing gladiators in Caesar's Coliseum - but not by much. A first defeat is pardoned, and a second chance given. Another defeat, though, and the bull is barred from the dhirio for life. Their owners then tend to hitch them to bullock carts in a bid to get some return on their unlucky investment or, if they have no carts or other uses for the disgraced bull, sell them to the nearest butcher.

Cruelty? But of course, chorus the animal rights activists. The most high profile of the breed, former federal minister Maneka Gandhi, fired the first salvo a couple of years ago when, as head of the People for Animals organisation, she called for an immediate and total ban of the sport.

"She is right in demanding the ban," says Prabhakar Timble, a leading activist based in South Goa. "The bullfight violates the provisions of the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act. Instead of implementing the Act, however, the government advertises the dhirio as a tourist attraction!"

"If bullfighting is to be banned, then why don't they first call for a ban on boxing and wrestling?" demands former chief minister and South Goa MP Churchill Alemao. "What is this concern for animals, that comes without corresponding concern for human beings?"

"That is a stupid argument," says PFA activist and practising vet Dr Gustav Pinto who, in course of his professional career has had to tend to several of the vanquished combatants of various dhirios. "Man deliberately chooses to box with another man; but the bull does not get that freedom of choice!"

"I know the law, but it is wrong to impose it. The dhirio is popular in the state," shrugs Minister for Animal Husbandry Chandrakant Chodankar. "The only option is to gradually educate them and wean them away from the sport."

"It is not just a sport, but also a form of livelihood," says prominent bull owner Ajay Karekar of Benaulim. "The servants who tend to the bulls, the people who hire out the mattovs, the announcers, the printers who earn a living printing fight announcements - it is an entire industry!"

An industry, he could have added, that flourishes both in the cottages and the bungalows of the mighty. Thus, middle class housewife Anne Dias of St Cruz is a proud owner of a fighting bull - "It is better to spend money on the bull than having our kids waste it in drinking and gambling," she argues. And equally proud of his champion bull Hanuman is Churchill Alemao, one of the most influential politicos in Goa today.

Over time, the sport has created its own support system. Staffed with men like Lucas Fernandes, an announcer who, since the early sixties, is as huge an attraction at the dhirios as the bulls he heralds into the ring. Or reputed dhirio organisers like Alexino de Merces, Madan Vaingankar of village Pernem and Simon Caido of Goa Velha.

Obviously, the economics justify the human involvement. For the owner, the equation is simple. He spends anywhere up to Rs 100,000 in purchasing a young bull, and rearing and training it to ring-readiness. Given that a first win nets Rs 3,000, that winnings are doubled for each successive bout, that the average dhirio spans between five to seven bouts and champion bulls travel and fight across the state, a really good bull makes his money back in two years, maybe less. And from then on, every penny earned in course of a typical "professional life" of upto six, seven years, is pure gravy.

For the organiser, the equation is equally simple. His investment per dhirio, factoring in the rental of corrugated sheets, the printing of pamphlets and tickets, the hiring of announcers and the payment of guarantee money to the real top champions, does not exceed Rs 50,000. Remembering that the size of the stadia are pretty much left to the discretion of individual organisers, that the turnstile rate of Rs 35 or more per ticket is for standing room only, profits in excess of Rs 1.5 million are pretty much the norm.

In fact - and ironic, in context of the ongoing debate into whether or not the sport should be banned - an increasing commercialisation has crept into the sport. Thus, the more famed dhirios draw advertising sponsorships, and a move is even afoot to pressure the government into constructing permanent stadia at important venues.

The last word on the debate comes from a pro-ban activist who professes himself helpless. "When organisers can earn millions per year, when bull-owners can sit back and watch the money come in, when men can go in with a couple of hundred bucks and multiply it manifold in two hours of betting, when the womenfolk in their finery join the men in cheering themselves hoarse and when children are given the added concession of free entry, what hope is there for any ban to succeed? It's all a waste of time, this argument!"

The average Goan knows this. But another - more crucial argument continues to rage, gathering heat as D-Day approaches. In feni bars and family living rooms, on sun swept beaches and somnolent government offices, the theme is the same - come the final dhirio in Margao, which bull will emerge the champion of champions? Reigning champion Birbal, owned by Joaquim Pinto of Fatorda? Or former champion Hanuman, pride and joy of no less a personage than Churchill Alemao himself?

Each has its adherents. Birbal has the youth, and strength, claims one faction. Yes, but Hanuman has weight on his side, and don't forget his greater experience, goes the other. Pah, counters the first, you really think that old bag of bones Hanuman will win? Wanna bet? Okay - Rs 5,000, at 2:1 on Hanuman! Done!!

By D-day, the amount hanging in this particular balance will run into the millions.

Ah, yes, the date of the epochal showdown at Margao. It is, funnily enough, a national holiday.

October 2. The day dedicated to the memory of Mohanadas Karamchand Gandhi aka the Mahatma, whose birth anniversary it is.

On the morning of that day, politicians and the intelligentsia will pay ritual homage to the champion of ahimsa, of non-violence; the ultimate apostle of peace.

The same evening, they will jostle with the janta for admission to the Margao mattov, for the final dhirio of the season. And once within the rope-ringed enclosure, they will all - patricians and plebians alike - scream themselves hoarse as their champions fight to the finish.

Killl himmm, Hanuman!!

Go, Birballllllllllllllll!!

Yeah, right!

Photograph: Alister Miranda

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