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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.)

Permission Denied

In the combustible politics of Maharashtra, where identity and language have long been flashpoints, discretion and judgement are key to policing. But Madhukar Pandey, hitherto the Commissioner of Police for Mira Bhayandar–Vasai Virar (MBVV), showed none. By denying permission for a rally to defend Marathi pride, he has not only embarrassed the ruling Mahayuti government but also handed a new lease of life to the rabble-rousing Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS), which thrives on such spectacles.


The protest rally in question, led by the MNS and backed by opposition groups including Shiv Sena (UBT) and NCP (SP), was called in response to a disturbing incident in Mira Road in which a shopkeeper was assaulted by MNS workers for not speaking Marathi. Sensing an opportunity to stoke sentiment and revive its relevance, a march was organised under the banner to assert the cultural identity of the region. It had all the makings of a one-day flare-up that could have passed unnoticed had it been handled with intelligence.


Instead, Pandey chose the most counterproductive option by prohibiting the rally entirely. A flat denial of permission was never going to de-escalate tensions but would instead stoke flames of unrest, which is exactly what happened. The early-morning arrest of MNS leader Avinash Jadhav from his Thane residence turned him into a local hero. By attempting to preempt the protest with ham-fisted tactics, the police ensured it grabbed headlines, drew sympathisers from across party lines, and ballooned into an embarrassment for the state.


The result was chaos on the streets and a public relations disaster for the ruling Mahayuti coalition. Shiv Sena minister Pratap Sarnaik, who tried to ride the Marathi pride wave, was heckled and forced to retreat. Scenes of disarray went viral.


Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, who also handles the Home portfolio, tried to contain the fallout by claiming the rally was allowed but that the organisers chose a provocative route. That is splitting hairs. A controlled and permitted procession, kept under a tight police cordon, would likely have passed without incident. Besides being tactically inept, Pandey’s refusal to grant permission in hindsight was politically suicidal.


There is a bitter irony here. By trying to suppress the rally in the name of law and order, Pandey ended up amplifying it. A march that might have drawn a few hundred loyalists instead transmogrified into a symbol of state overreach and cultural affront.


The state government has now done what governments usually do when faced with such blunders: they’ve removed the officer. Pandey has been transferred with immediate effect and replaced by Niket Kaushik. But the damage is done. The BJP-led Mahayuti coalition has been made to look jittery, reactive and out of touch with the cultural currents it claims to represent.


In situations of identity-based tension, the job of the police is not to suppress dissent but to channel it safely. Denying permission gave the protest and the MNS more visibility, sympathy and momentum than they ever deserved.

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