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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.)

Residence Row

The unseemly row over Justice D.Y. Chandrachud’s extended stay at the Supreme Court-allotted bungalow has turned a matter of housing into a test of principle and perception. Since stepping down as India’s top judge in November 2024, Justice Chandrachud has continued to reside at the Supreme Court-allotted CJI residence, well beyond the six-month grace period permitted by rules. The court administration’s letter to the Union housing ministry, leaked to the press last week, formally requested that the retired judge be evicted.


What followed was equally unusual. Justice Chandrachud, regarded as a liberal voice on the bench and respected even by his critics for his legal clarity, broke his silence. He explained that his two daughters live with nemaline myopathy, a rare genetic condition that leaves them wheelchair-bound. The family had already packed up and was in the process of shifting to a more accessible home, he said. The delay was caused not by entitlement but by urgent need of ramps, accessible bathrooms and wide doorways for his children.


The incident raises difficult questions. Should a public servant’s personal circumstances trump formal deadlines, especially when no successor has claimed the premises? Or must institutional rules be upheld, even if they come at the cost of private hardship?


The Supreme Court’s decision to write to the Ministry of Housing may have been bureaucratically sound as the grace period had expired. But making that communication public, whether by design or carelessness, was both unseemly and unprecedented. No such missive, as far as records show, was ever made public in the cases of Justice UU Lalit or Justice NV Ramana. The matter could have been quietly resolved, especially since Justice Chandrachud had informed both Chief Justices Khanna and Gavai of his request for an extension. In fact, it is precisely because the CJI residence had no occupant lined up (both his successors declined it) that a flexible interpretation of the rule was not only possible but perhaps humane.


The letter, once leaked, triggered a media furore that cast shadows on a legacy built over decades. Worse, it gave ammunition to cynics who see the judiciary not as an impartial arbiter but a privileged cabal. In trying to assert institutional discipline, the Supreme Court may have unintentionally invited public spectacle.


Yet, Justice Chandrachud, too, could have anticipated this storm. As a jurist acutely aware of how perception often rivals fact in shaping legitimacy, he should have pre-emptively disclosed the exceptional nature of his situation. After all, if extensions had been sought and granted informally, then a formal note citing the medical needs of his children and the delays in repair at the alternative accommodation could have served to head off controversy.


Justice Chandrachud’s storied career will not be undone by a delayed move-out. But the episode is a reminder that in a republic of laws, even those who once presided over them must remain visibly bound by them and be seen to be doing so with grace.

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