Inside the shrine an exquisite image of Maruti greets the visitor. But there is more – the entire temple is embellished with kaavi (sgraffito) and represents one of the finest examples of its kind in Goa, as seen in the photographs below.

Ravaged by destructive mining the settlement of Advalpal is under severe pressure from rapacious miners and their political enablers. The future of this temple is highly uncertain – it is located on private property and the owner has had ‘offers’.

Hanuman of Advalpal, Goa
5D, 85L II

Hanuman temple in Advalpal, Goa
5D, 24-105L

Kaavi art on temple façade
5D, 24-105L

This was an unplanned shot. I was returning to Panjim one evening in Sept 2007 after a long day out. As we approached the bridge the atmospherics suddenly assumed an irresistible mien. I had the Canon TS-E 90mm lens on me and put it to use.

Monsoon clouds over Zuari bridge
5D, TS-E 90

Fresh Samosas in New Delhi
5D, 24-105L

World-class Pedas in Bikaner, Rajasthan
5D, 24-105L

The 12th C temple of Mahadeva (another name for Shiva) set in a remote forest at Tambdi Surla is Goa‘s oldest surviving temple. It remains a place of active worship to this day.

This photograph was taken in 2007 in the thick of the monsoon season. When I got to Tambdi Surla that morning a heavy downpour had just subsided. The ambience was magical and this framing suggested itself quite naturally. The slight colour cast of green on the temple structure is not a processing artifact; it is a consequence of the wet temple reflecting the surrounding foliage.

12th C Mahadeva Temple at Tambdi Surla, Goa
5D, 24-105L

See this earlier entry for another view of the temple.

This photograph of the Deepastambha at the Mahalsa temple in Mardol was taken at daybreak.

Deepastambha at Mahalsa temple in Mardol, Goa
5D Mark II, TS-E 17L

A more modest Deepasthamba adorns the courtyard of the temple of Goddess Bhumika in the village of Chopdem.

Deepastambha at Bhumika temple in Chopdem, Goa
5D Mark II, 85L II

An ancient Deepasthamba near the remains of Piso Ravlu temple in Mayem is embraced by a Peepal tree.

Deepastambha in Mayem, Goa
5D, 24-105L

Panjim attained prominence in 1827 when the Portuguese transferred their capital from Old Goa. In 1843, it was elevated to a city, awarded upgrades befitting the capital of Estado da Ìndia, and renamed Nova Goa. A description of that time cuts a smart picture: It is a very beautiful city, modern, with broad and spacious roads drawn in grid pattern (tiradas a cordel), large squares, excellent footpaths, six beautiful bridges and a fine dock. That quote and its source are found in the monograph Snapshots of Indo-Portuguese History – Part I – Pangim, by Vasco Pinho.

I was born and raised in Panjim. It remained essentially the same idyll through my young adult years. All the ingredients of a world-class town were in place beginning with its picture-postcard setting. It was clean, quiet, the pace was languid, and an old world collegial ambience prevailed. Violent crime was unheard of. It had fine educational institutions, an outstanding medical school & hospital – said to be the oldest in Asia, a superb Central Library, a clutch of cultural institutions, lovely jardims, and wide open spaces for outdoor activities. Above all, it was a pedestrian’s delight with all neighbourhoods within the ambit of a leisurely stroll.

Where in India – or even in Silicon Valley for that matter – could a young fellow sit through a music class, then go out and shoot soccer balls, then polish off a plate of bhaji-puri at the legendary Cafe Tato, then traipse across the jardim to the reading room at Central Library, and finally pedal to Miramar beach for sundown? All in the space on an afternoon, immersed in delightful surroundings, without jostling crowds and honking traffic. Panjim was our cosy nest for what the Italians call dolce far niente. This is not a tall tale of “the good old days” – I am talking Panjim of as recent as the mid-1990s.

Sad to say, since 2002 or so this exquisite city of ours – amchi Ponje – is on a downward spiral like much of Goa. Soon it will devolve into another noisy, squalid, jumbled mass of urban chaos that is characteristic of all Indian cities and towns. By and by I shall have more to say on this.

In this extended series to be run over the next several months, I will focus on remnants of Panjim‘s past. The photographs will strive to convey a sense of the city’s surviving heritage assets and its (fast-fading) character.

One final note before we head to the gallery – the book, Walking In and Around Panaji (2005), put together by Heta Pandit and her colleagues at Goa Heritage Action Group is a good starting point for an exploration of Panjim and surrounds.

This first photograph was taken from the Reis Magos fort across River Mandovi.

Panjim on the River Mandovi
5D, 24-105L

The next photograph was shot late evening from the upper maintenance deck of the Doordarshan tower (notice the long shadow), looking towards Patto, Mandovi bridge, and the island of Chorão across the river. I had to obtain special permission for access to the tower. The climb up the dark, dank space was quite hairy given the heavily corroded iron railings & stairs.

A bird's eye view of Panjim
5D, 35L

By way of comparison, this is a photograph I took of an old (c. 1900) photograph from the Central Library archives. The bridge leading into Ponte de Liñhares (1632) that joins Panjim with Ribandar is seen, as are the salt pans to the right, and Chorão across the river.

Panjim circa 1900 (© Souza & Paul)

The final photograph was taken in Corte do Oiteiro (colloquially called Cortim). Houses of this type, featuring windows laced with nacre, characterize Panjim‘s old quarter.

Old house in Panjim's Cortin quarter
5D Mark II, TS-E 17L

This willfull destruction of Goa‘s cultural heritage has become commonplace now that the disease of mindless ‘development’ and ‘modernization’ has firmly taken hold. Exquisite old temples built by our traditional gavandis (masons) are being torn down to make way for hideous concrete designs, magnificent sculptures of great antiquity are being cast out in the wilderness with no understanding of their significance.

I remember the day I got to the beautiful village of Netravali (variously spelled Netorli, Neturlim) in south Goa almost two years ago. Feeling unwell that morning, I was about to call it a day but then I remembered the cardinal rule of photographers: take the shot when you can. I was to appreciate the value of that piece of wisdom on more than one occasion in India.

And so I quickly worked on the 4 ancient sculptures in the vicinity: Gopinath, Kalbhairav, Mahishasurmardini, and Ganesha. The glorious image of Kalbhairav out in the open forest was especially striking but it was backlit at the time. I resolved to return soon for a repeat session. When I came back a couple of months later, the idol was gone! A brand new one had been consecrated. I don’t know where the old Kalbhairav is. Hopefully, the Goa Heritage folks will retrieve it as well.

These treasures are said to date back to 9th-10th century C.E. from the time of the Southern Shilaharas in Goa.

Lord Gopinath of Netravali, Goa (9th-10th C)
5D, 24-105L

Kalbhairav of Netravali, Goa
5D, 24-105L

Mahishasurmardini of Netravali, Goa
5D, 24-105L

Ganesha of Netravali, Goa
5D, 24-105L