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By:

Archita Redkar

11 September 2025 at 2:30:25 pm

A Diwali to Remember: The Light of Mangeshi Temple

I still recall one of the most captivating Diwalis I’ve experienced — the one I spent in Goa fourteen years ago. That year, we chose to celebrate uniquely at the Shri Mangeshi Temple, and residing within its walls made the occasion intensely personal and unforgettable. It became a treasured family celebration. My daughter was very young then, but to this day she distinctly remembers each lamp, each prayer, and every instance of that Diwali. The temple’s tranquil atmosphere, resonant chants,...

A Diwali to Remember: The Light of Mangeshi Temple

I still recall one of the most captivating Diwalis I’ve experienced — the one I spent in Goa fourteen years ago. That year, we chose to celebrate uniquely at the Shri Mangeshi Temple, and residing within its walls made the occasion intensely personal and unforgettable. It became a treasured family celebration. My daughter was very young then, but to this day she distinctly remembers each lamp, each prayer, and every instance of that Diwali. The temple’s tranquil atmosphere, resonant chants, and the golden blaze of hundreds of diyas made the festival an experience full of soul—one that still shimmers in our hearts. Perched on a hillock at Priol in Ponda Taluka and surrounded by lush greenery, the Shri Mangeshi Temple is one of Goa’s most revered shrines to Lord Shiva. Its distinctive Goan Hindu architecture — whitewashed walls, graceful courtyards, and the towering seven-storey deepastambha (lamp tower) — exudes timeless elegance, especially during Diwali. As night falls, the temple becomes a sanctuary of light. Diyas illuminate the deepastambha, creating an almost celestial vision. The air fills with chants and the soft rhythm of bells, celebrating the triumph of light over darkness and wisdom over ignorance. The MangeshiDevasthan stands as a symbol of devotion and resilience. The original Shiva Linga, once enshrined in Kushastali, was moved across the Zuari River after the Portuguese destroyed the temple in 1561. The present structure, built in the mid-1800s on land donated by a devotee, has been lovingly preserved through generations. Today, it remains one of Goa’s most visited and spiritually significant temples — a true jewel among Konkani shrines. Goa’s Diwali traditions Goa celebrates Diwali with a unique blend of devotion and community spirit. The festivities begin on Naraka Chaturdashi, the second day of the five-day festival, with the burning of Narakasura effigies. Giant figures of the demon king, crafted from bamboo and paper, are paraded through villages before being set ablaze at dawn — a vivid symbol of good triumphing over evil. As fireworks light up the morning sky, families rejoice together. Lakshmi Puja, the third day, holds special importance. Homes and temples—especially Mangeshi, Shantadurga, and Mahalaxmi—glow with vibrant rangolis, marigolds, and flickering lamps. Families offer prayers and sweets to welcome Goddess Lakshmi, celebrating prosperity, harmony, and hope. Living within the temple premises let us experience its divine rhythm from dawn to night. From the first aarti at 4:30 a.m. to the last at 11 p.m., we joined nearly every ritual. The temple shimmered with fresh flowers, intricate patterns in the sanctum (Garbha), and endless rows of diyas, each flame whispering peace. On the first day, we performed the sacred Abhishek — offering water and flowers to the Shiva Linga. Drawing water from the ancient temple well and carrying it to the sanctum under Guruji’s guidance was humbling. Sitting there, offering prayers and prasad, I felt a deep stillness — a serenity I carry even today. On Narak Chaturdashi, we joined villagers as they set the demon effigy ablaze amid dazzling fireworks. In that radiant dawn, I prayed silently for strength, positivity, and the cleansing of negativity — a beautiful blend of energy and introspection. Lakshmi Puja brought another unforgettable day. Guruji invited us to his 200-year-old ancestral Wada behind the temple. The women prepared a traditional Goan breakfast on banana leaves, filling the courtyard with the aroma of coconut and jaggery. Children, including my daughter, built tiny clay forts (ghads) decorated with miniature warriors and diyas. Their laughter, mingled with temple bells, captured the warmth and togetherness that define a Goan Diwali. Festivity and togetherness Sweets and savouries lie at the heart of Diwali celebrations. In Goa, favourites like Fov (sweetened beaten rice with jaggery and coconut), Godshe (rice pudding with coconut milk), KelyachyoFodi (raw banana fry), KarlyacheKismur (bitter gourd with coconut and tamarind), and Nevri or Karanji (sweet dumplings filled with coconut, jaggery, poppy seeds, and cardamom) are lovingly prepared and shared with neighbours, symbolising love and unity. Evenings in Goa offer a beautiful contrast—the serene glow of temples meets the lively sparkle of beaches. Fireworks, music, and Goan feasts fill the air, blending devotion and celebration, perfectly reflecting Goa’s joyful soul. That Diwali at Mangeshi Temple was more than a festival — it was a journey inward. The echo of bells, scent of incense, soft chants, flickering lamps, and shared family moments created a peace that words can hardly capture. (The writer is a tourism professional and runs a company, Global Voyages. She could be contacted at goglobalvoyages@gmail.com. Views personal.)

Language Games

In Maharashtra, it often takes a political bonfire for the government to realise it has been playing with matches. The ruling Mahayuti coalition’s decision to roll back its controversial move to make Hindi compulsory in the state’s primary schools is a textbook case of how not to legislate in a multilingual, federal democracy. While the move is certainly a welcome one, the reversal, announced by Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, comes-off as a panicked retreat in the face of a mounting backlash that could have been avoided altogether.


At the heart of the controversy were two Government Resolutions (GRs) which sought to implement a three-language formula from Class 1 in all English and Marathi medium schools. Under the April diktat, Hindi was to become a compulsory third language, in effect overriding parental choice and linguistic diversity in the name of national integration. After the policy sparked a public outcry and led to a rare display of unity among opposition parties such as the Shiv Sena (UBT), MNS, and NCP (SP), the Mahayuti amended the GR earlier this month to make Hindi optional. It wasn’t enough. Ultimately, the political cost had grown so steep that a full rollback became inevitable.


This was not, as Fadnavis has claimed, an act of visionary course correction. It was a climbdown. Worse, it was a crisis entirely of the government’s own making. The Mashelkar Committee, whose report the Mahayuti claims to have followed, had been set up in 2020 under the previous MVA government to examine how the National Education Policy (NEP) might be implemented in Maharashtra. Yet at no point did that report mandate compulsion from Class 1, nor did it anticipate the rigid imposition of Hindi in a state with its own proud linguistic identity. If anything, the political context should have made the government tread more carefully, not less.


Fadnavis’s attempts to pass the buck onto Uddhav Thackeray’s earlier regime seem unconvincing. It is difficult to escape the conclusion that the Mahayuti misread the room entirely, choosing to appease a larger ideological constituency rather than the electorate of Maharashtra.


The damage, however, has already been done. It has cast the government as one willing to meddle in the classroom for political mileage, rather than prioritise educational outcomes. It has also handed the opposition a tailor-made platform to paint the BJP-led alliance as indifferent to Marathi pride, an issue that carries electoral weight in both urban and rural constituencies.


The hurried appointment of a new committee under educationist Dr. Narendra Jadhav to revisit the issue is a prudent, if belated, move.


Multilingualism in India is not a problem to be solved but a fact to be accommodated. Hindi may be spoken by many, but in Maharashtra, Marathi remains the emotional anchor. Recognising this is not parochialism but prudence. That the Mahayuti had to learn this the hard way does not speaks well of its political wisdom.


Next time, perhaps, they could think before issuing a GR.

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