BRAHMIN OR BAHUJAN?

HERITAGE OR EMBARRASSMENT?

THE CONFLICTED IDENTITY OF THE GOAN TEMPLE1

Amita Kanekar

The Al-Zulaij Collective

This paper is about the conflicts in which the Goan temple is today

embroiled, and their impact on its architecture. There is little doubt that

taste—or aesthetic choice—in temple architecture has changed in Goa from

the late Portuguese era to today, with the result that the architecture of

the Goan temple is now a seriously endangered part of Goa’s cultural

heritage. This dominant Hindu shrine of Goa – which might be better

identified as the Brahmanical shrine of Goa, since it is deeply connected to

Brahmanical ownership, ritual and practices – had, by the end of the

nineteenth century, brought together architectural ideas from the

European Baroque, the Deccan Sultanates and the Mughals, along with

vernacular traditions, into a cosmopolitan architectural ensemble unique

to Goa. Although creatively heterogeneous temple architecture was

common in South Asia from the Early Modern era, especially the mixing of

ideas from the Islamicate world with those of earlier temple architecture

(Kanekar 2010, Michell 2015), the Goan temple still stands out, thanks to

1
This paper was originally published as “Brahmin ou Bahujan, património ou constrangimento? A
identidade conflituosa do templo goês” in Miguel Bandeira Jerónimo and Walter Rossa (editors),
Patrimónios Contestados, Coimbra 2021.
its ties to the European Baroque, via the Goan church.

Goa still has most of its old temples, which—thanks not least to their

inclusion in government-sponsored tourism circuits—attract increasing

numbers of visitors. But their characteristic architecture is disappearing,

to be replaced by historicist forms from other parts of South Asia. In my

survey of pre-1961 temples across Goa, out of a total of 248 old

foundations, nearly half were found to be completely rebuilt – many in the

last two decades – while another one-third are substantially altered. And

many of the relatively unchanged ones have plans for rebuilding. It clearly

won’t be long before the creatively heterogeneous architecture of the Goan

temple becomes history, even as temples in Goa become mundane replicas

of those outside, all with the blessings of the temple patrons.

The first argument of this essay is that the disappearance of the Goan

temple is related to the changing identity of the Goan Hindu, thanks to the

nature of Indian nationalism, and the way Goa is viewed by India. The

temple is, to put it crudely, not Hindu enough by today’s standards.

But there is a second conflict in which this institution is embroiled – that

connected to caste. The Brahmanical temple might be considered to be the

caste institution supreme, for everything here revolves around caste, from

the functioning and employment, to the architecture as well. But this

traditional hierarchical control is increasingly being challenged, revealing

thereby the fault-marks in Goan Hindu society and history as well.

Introducing the Goan Temple

An introduction is necessary, for the Goan temple is not only unrecognised

as heritage, but even as an architectural type. Goa is home to a variety of

Brahmanical temple forms, from the rock-cut shrines of the 1st millennium

CE, and stone masonry ones of about a thousand years ago, to those built

more recently. But every temple in today’s Goa is not necessarily Goan.

Because Goa was born as a distinct and coherent region only after the first

Portuguese conquest of 1510, expanding to reach its current area by the

late eighteenth century. It was through Portuguese rule that Goa as we

know it today was welded together, and also recognized as a distinct

territory by polities such as the Mughals, the Marathas, and the later

British.

The temples built before 1510 belonged to various regional formations that

included parts of today’s Goa; e.g. the Mahadev temple at Tambdi Surla

was built during the rule of the Kadambas, feudatories of the imperial

Chalukyas of Kalyana who were patrons of a distinctive Karnata Dravida

language of temple architecture. The Mahadev belongs to that architectural

family.

Thus, when one speaks of the ‘Goan temple’ as an architectural type, one

does not mean all the temples which happen to be in today’s Goa, nor the

vernacular forms that can be found with small variations all along the

western coast of India, but only those temples that are regionally,
chronologically, and stylistically Goan. The term is actually inspired by the

ideas of Paulo Varela Gomes on the architecture of the Goan Church

(Whitewash, Red Stone, 2011). Gomes pointed out that, although the church

architecture that evolved in Goa is often called Indo-Portuguese, or even

Portuguese, it is neither Indian nor Portuguese, but unique to Goa, and the

result of the development of a new community of Goan Catholics who

wanted to make their presence felt. My study shows that something similar

happened in the case of the Goan temple. The story of the Goan temple is

thus also a story about the mazans/mahajans – traditional administrators

of the temples, vaguely associated with foundation or service or generous

donations, who metamorphosed into temple-owners in the nineteenth

century – in particular the Brahmin communities, or Saraswats (as they

came to be known in the nineteenth century), and how they negotiated

Portuguese Goa and then Goa after India.

Quite a few of these temples propagate an origin story of relocation of

idols from Brahmin-owned temples destroyed by the Portuguese in the

sixteenth-century Velhas Conquistas (Old Conquests). These stories, which

have become “common knowledge” in Goa despite little historical proof,

are being challenged today by nonMazan worshippers who claim that the

idols were actually local ones belonging to indigenous communities, whose

worship was usurped by elites (Kerkar 2014, Kanekar 2017). Rui Gomes

Pereira, in his inventory of temples and deities of Goa, also refers to a

takeover of local temples and deities in the Novas Conquistas by Brahmins

from the Velhas Conquistas (Gomes Pereira 1978).

The architecture of the Goan temple is widely believed to have arisen in

1668 CE, the foundation date of the Saptakoteshwar temple at Narvem,

though it is actually unknown whether this temple was indeed founded as

a Goan temple. Those who, like José Pereira (1995, 2005), accept the 1668

date as the beginning of the Goan temple (the Goan Baroque temple, as he

calls it), see the next important steps in its development in c. 1730-1738,

which is the foundation date of the Shantadurga temple of Kavlem, and

then 1780, when the Nagueshi of Bandora was rebuilt.

The problem with this history, however, is the Mangueshi temple of Priol.

This temple is known to have been founded in the 1740s, i.e. not long after

the Shantadurga at Kavlem; . But there is a photographic image of it, which

cannot be earlier than the 1850s when photography first appeared in Goa,

which shows it in a relatively vernacular avatar and without its many

domes (Fig. 1), which must be how it looked before it was rebuilt in a Goan

temple form (Fig. 2).

The account of Lopes Mendes (A Índia Portuguesa, 1886) proves that the

Goan temple was in existence at the time of his visit, i.e. 1862-1871, thanks

to his images of Shantadurga of Kavlem (Fig. 3), Nagueshi of Bandora,

Chandranath of Paroda, Shantadurga of Bicholim, Shantadurga of Dhargal,

and others, which are clearly Goan temples. The same account however

reveals that Mangueshi had not been fully developed at a Goan temple even
then.

Now, Mangueshi has been one of the most dominant of the Brahmanical

shrines of Goa, right from its foundation. It seems highly unlikely that such

a prominent shrine would wait for 100-150 years to follow in the new

architectural style adopted by nearby temples like the Shantadurga of

Kavlem and the Nagueshi of Bandora, besides other less important shrines

in Bicholim and Pernem. It seems more likely that the new architecture

arose in the nineteenth century itself.

There is, however, little doubt of its spread. If one goes by official temple

histories, and oral narratives among the communities connected to the

temples, many temples were rebuilt at the end of the nineteenth century

and the beginning of the twentieth, and quite a few newly-founded. All of

these seem to have adopted the new architecture, making it the norm

across Goa by the first decades of the twentieth.

Baroque dome over Bijapuri drum, but not for all

If the Goan temple has anything to do with the temple architecture that

preceded it in the region, it is with the local vernacular of mud, laterite,

timber, tiles, and coconut palm leaves. Its multi-referenced form sees the

use of all these along with elements from the European Renaissance-

Baroque palette (via the Goan church), the Bijapur Sultanate, and the

Mughal world (both the latter probably courtesy the Maratha temples).
Although it roughly follows the basic Brahmanical temple layout with an

entrance porch, hall, and sanctum laid out along an axis, the difference—a

huge one—lies in the details. These include the basilican interior with high

nave, lower aisles, clerestory windows, and a crossing, very like a Goan

church; the octagonal drum over the sanctum, topped by a dome with a

balustrade at its base, harking to both mosque arrangements in the long-

dead Bijapuri world, and also Goan church domes; the stepped tank

reminiscent of the Adilshahi Goan mosques, like the Safa and Surla Tar

Masjids (Fig. 4); the multi-storied lamptower with tiers of arched openings

(Fig. 5), like Goan church towers, themselves reminiscent of Bijapuri

towers; the large and ornate ‘tulas’ planter (Fig. 6), like the free-standing

cross before the Goan church; and then all the forms: domes, round arches,

pillar forms, pilasters and mouldings from the Renaissance and Baroque

world of Europe (sourced again from the Goan churches); domes, pointed

arches and pillar forms from Bijapur; and cypress pillars and mouldings

from the Mughals/Marathas; along with vernacular elements like mud and

laterite walls, pitched and tiled roofs, and much carved and painted timber

work for pillars, friezes, ceilings and so on.

Such was the architectural vocabulary of the Goan temple. But there is a

hierarchy in the way it is applied, for the Goan Brahmanical temple is

actually a hierarchical assembly of many shrines to different deities. This

is itself not a unique phenomenon, with churches in Goa also containing

many foci, often arranged in a hierarchy. But here the different shrines
and sacred objects are usually connected to different caste communities,

themselves arranged in a social, political and economic hierarchy in real

life. Thus, the grandest architecture was reserved for the deities of the

mazans, who usually belong to the dominant castes. These deities tend to

be prominently housed in the bigger, more elaborate, and more ‘Goan’

architecture, located at the centre of the complex. Secondary deities may

be within the main building or in smaller temples, typically without

domes, but with similar layouts, viz. porches with sopo (seats) and round

arches, and interiors with large pillars carrying barrel vaults over the

central nave (Fig. 7). The deities lowest in the hierarchy – usually

belonging to the castes considered lower – might be in completely

vernacular constructions, sometimes very tiny; or under gomtis (small low

shelters), or even out in the open.

Among the latter deities, Maringan stands out as an example of a

missing shrine (Kanekar 2018), for, although many priests and

worshippers of the big temples declare that this deity is important, you

will hardly notice it unless you search (Fig. 8). The reason is that this deity

belongs to the Mahar community which was traditionally, and still is

today, treated as untouchable; thus the deity is treated likewise.i

Even as there is a caste-based hierarchy in the architecture within

each temple complex, there also seems to be a hierarchy across temple

complexes, with the foundations that are owned solely by Saraswatsii likely
to display the most elaborate Goan architecture. For example, if you look

at the incidence of temple domes, one finds most in the completely

Saraswat-owned temples, followed by those owned by Bhats, Ranes and

Dessais. Other temples used pitched and tiled roofs over the whole

building, though with a tall sanctum tower, octagonal or square, in the

case of the bigger ones (Fig. 9).

The Fall of the Goan Temple

Today’s Goa has a huge number of Hindu temples, both old ones and new

ones being built every year, thanks to the growth in overt Hindu and

Brahmanical religiosity of recent times. But their architecture is different

and varied, usually copies of archaic temple forms from outside Goa. This

disappearance of the old architecture has been facilitated by the fact that

the old temples are considered to be the private property of their

respective mazans; and also because, despite most being over a century

old, few are protected under heritage laws. There are cases where such

protection existed, only to be removed by the temple committees

themselves, e.g. the Mangueshi temple at Priol (Kerkar 2014).

This disappearance of the Goan temple seems to have begun in the

1940s, become a general trend after 1961 (when Goa was annexed by

India), and accelerated after the 1990s (with the rise of the BJP). As we

have seen, during the nineteenth and the early twentieth centuries, the

prominent Brahmanical temples of Goa changed from vernacular forms to

the multi-referenced and cosmopolitan form of the Goan temple. It was not

long afterwards that the first signs of a dissatisfaction were seen in two

prominent temples – viz. the Rane-owned Vithal at Carapur, documented

by Lopes Mendes in the 1860s as a large and mainly vernacular

construction (Fig. 10), which was rebuilt in the 1940s in a late

Mughal/Rajput manner (Fig. 11); and the Saraswat-owned Ramnathi at

Bandora, which in the 1950s built a new temple hall inspired again by late

Mughal architecture, this time of the Golden Temple (Fig. 12).

The two decades after 1961 saw the partial or complete rebuilding of many

old temples. But the Islamic world was no longer to be seen; the

inspiration now was only ancient Hindu temples outside Goa. The Latina

temple tower – found mostly in west, central and east India – was

especially popular, for example in the completely rebuilt Damodar of

Zamboulim, and Panjim’s Mahalaxmi (Figs. 13 and 14). Even where

complete rebuilding was not done, renovations saw the removal of ‘Muslim

domes’ (at the Laxmi-Narcinva, Veling) and ‘Catholic tulas planters’ (at

Mhalsa, Mardol).

From the 1990s, while the main inspiration remained ancient temples,

there was now a greater consciousness of image-creation, or temple as

spectacle. Expansion was on a gigantic scale, along with the use of

expensive stone tiling and cladding, copper sheets on roofs, and silver and

gold leaf on pinnacles and internal walls. The look was now varied, from
Malabar-style pitched roof compositions, to Karnata Dravida tiered ones.

The dome suddenly became popular again, but none from the vast Goan

repertoire; they were now inspired by Buddhist monuments or were novel

heterogeneous designs aimed at looking “different, so as to attract

tourists”, as a temple committee member of the then-being-rebuilt

Shantadurga temple at Balli explained.

Thus, the rebuilding of this Shantadurga temple, begun in 2013, sees a

relatively modest Goan temple being replaced by a mix of the Buddhist

chaitya and the Tamil Dravida temple, with a near-spherical dome, railings

apparently inspired by the Sanchi stupa, horseshoe arches, and Tamil

cornices (Fig. 15). Another example is the Saptakoteshvar in Fatorpa,

formerly a tiny house-form shrine, now on its way to becoming a grand

one reminiscent of the Karnata Dravida tradition. The Shantadurga

Cuncolcarin of Fatorpa is another example of dramatic change, from a

domed Goan temple of medium scale to a grand spectacle (Figs. 16, 17) of

domes and pitched roofs, none of which look Goan. The Mahalaxmi

Ravalnath in Mulgao meanwhile references Bengali temple architecture.

Behind the Architectural Transformations

The changing fortunes of the Goan temple can only be understood against

the history of its administrators/owners, the mazans, and especially the

leading mazan Brahmin communities. The rise of this new architectural

type, for example, can be connected with how these rich and powerful
communities negotiated the changing political context of the nineteenth

century in Goa and British India. This century in a way belonged to them.

Not only were traditional ‘usages and customs’ now permitted in the New

Conquests, but Brahmanical shrines began to come up in the Old

Conquests, most in the control of Hindu elites. And one government

interventions which hugely benefited them was the Regulamento das

Mazanias (Mazan Laws) of 1886, which regulated the functioning of

temples, and also listed the dominant worshipper communities, especially

the Brahmins, as the primary or only mazans, and also the hereditary

owners of the temples. This probably resulted from the fact that they

monopolised both literacy and record-keeping (Parabo 2020) among

worshippers.

By the end of the century, the barriers to Hindus joining the bureaucracy

and institutions of higher learning were removed (Pinto 2007), which

means that the Hindu elites, who had always dominated trade, money-

lending, tax-farming, and record-keeping right from the sixteenth-century,

consolidated their strengths in practically every sector. This success,

coupled with a proud caste consciousness, probably inspired investment in

rebuilding the temples which they now owned.

It is also notable that this architectural type, which harks strongly to

the Islamicate, arises parallel to the rise of the Indo-Saracenic style in

neighbouring British India, which is basically a revival of the South Asian

Islamicate. But, for these temples, the chief inspiration was clearly the

Goan church, which seems to indicate that the dominant Brahmanical

castes saw themselves as the modern inheritors of a Goan heritage.

After the 1930s, however, Goan elites, both Hindu and Catholic, were found

to be increasingly swayed by Indian nationalism. It may be no coincidence

that it is two dominant-caste temples that first reject Goan temple forms,

with their European Baroque content. Following the annexation of Goa by

India in 1961, the Islamicate is out too; the general enthusiasm for all

things Indian is replaced by an enthusiasm only for Hindu India.

As various scholars have pointed out, Indian nationalism is cultural

nationalism, less about political rights then about celebrating culture,

especially the culture of the dominant Hindu castes (Aloysius 1998, Tejani

2008), and the mythical idea of a mythical Hindu ‘golden age’ before the

arrival of Persianate polities and the Europeans. What this means is that to

be a true Indian nationalist is to be Hindu, while the Hindu temple

becomes nothing less than a symbol of nationalism. But this Hindu temple

has be one that ‘looks’ Hindu. The Goan temple stands accused of ‘looking

Catholic/Muslim’, thus falling far short of the ideal.

This is all the more important in a situation where Goans were themselves

seen to fall short of the nationalist ideal as a people. This was more so, of

course, with the non-Hindus. But a concern about not being recognised as

true Indians is seen in even Hindu elites, before and after 1961, as in the
debates over the Konkani language (Fernandes 2020). There are various

theories of how Goa could and did integrate with India. Some say it was

through the highlighting of a common culture (Newman 1999), others that

it was only via mass tourism (Trichur 2013). One could argue, however,

that it was also through the reinvention of the Goan Hindus, in an image

and identity acceptable to the post-1961 Indian context, a reinvention

which involves their temples as well.

With the rise of Hindutva to political power from the 1980s, the

celebration of Hinduism as nationalism is much more blatant, with

increased support for temple construction and reconstruction. However,

the rise of mass Indian tourism in Goa at almost the same time (Trichur

2013), and the packaging of Goa as a European holiday paradise for

Indians, has seen a new popularity for ‘Indo-Portuguese’ architecture. It is

the combination of the two pressures which has resulted in the Goan

temple now being replaced by a faux-Goan semi-ancient-Hindu

extravaganza (Kanekar 2018a).

Caste Conflicts Within

It is notable that the contemporary architectural changes are sometimes

described by mazans as modernisation, and a removal of the ‘old-

fashioned’ earlier architecture. This thinking would seem to be direct

contrast to their attitude to their old caste privileges which are retained in

most of the reconstructions, in the prevalence of subtle untouchability, the

continued casteism of the architecture (Figure 14), and the issue of

ownership as well.

Within the temples, casteist rituals and practices are the norm even today. In

the past, of course , things were worse, with public access to the main temple

complex allowed only in an unequal, hierarchical, and humiliating manner, with

some castes allowed only in restricted areas, and through rear gates. The early

1960s saw a temple-entry movement, demanding that all be allowed to enter

temples, which has been only marginally successful with access still depending

primarily on caste. With untouchability legally banned in India, worshippers are

usually not questioned about their caste, and except for the sanctum sanctorum

– where only the priests (usually of the Bhat caste) and mazans are allowed in –

the temple complex is formally open to all. But the reality can be seen in how the

local villagers access the temple, which in many cases tends to be according to

caste tradition. Every caste keeps to their limits, with the former ‘untouchables’

of the village still unwelcome inside the main shrines, although their presence is

essential at all temple functions for their traditional role of beating the temple

drum.

In terms of the architecture, the rebuilt shrines have preserved the same casteist

hierarchy as earlier. The best that can be found, and in only a few rebuilt

temples, specifically the Damodar of Zamboulim, the Santeri of Chandel, the

Vetal of Revora, and the Shantadurga of Mapusa, is a Maringan shrine which,

though still small, is dignified in construction and in good repair.

Then there is the issue of ownership, which has a long history. Some of these

these shrines may not have always been Brahmanical ones. The deity
Shantadurga, the most popular Goan goddess today, is not to be found at all in

the records of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; the Shantadurga temples

were all apparently earlier Santeri temples.iii The name Shantadurga may have

first been used in the Konkanakhyan (said to be of 1721)iv, which is a description

of the communities that came to be known as Saraswats, their villages and

temples, or in the correspondence over the building of the prominent

Shantadurga temple in Kavlem. It is notable that the ward in which th latter

temple is located is still known as Santeri-bhaat, which seems to indicate that it

was earlier a site for worship of Santeri. The most popular female deity recorded

in the sixteenth century was, in fact, Santeri.

Old deities like Kelbai too are disappearing; the old Kelbai temple of Volvoi is

now known as Gajant-Laxmi.

There are a few temples (not owned by Saraswats or Bhats) where the mazans

themselves perform the worship, not Bhats. There are also temples, especially

dedicated to Betal, where the priestly service is provided by Guravs who are

members of Goa’s indigenous communities, not Bhats. But the Brahmanical

priests are making inroads here as well nowadays; the members of the temple

committee of the Santeri at Shigoner, where the mazans perform the worship

themselves, explained that new rituals like Satyanarayan Pujas are becoming

popular now, which are performed only by Bhats.

One can see, even in some Saraswat-owned temples like the Navdurga at

Marcaim, how the worship is tied to local sites like living anthills (the form of

Sateri) and natural waterbodies, and also to all the local communities, which

seem to display the indigenous connections or roots of the temple. This

Navdurga temple incidentally, happens to be the site of a long struggle between

the Saraswats mazans and the non-Saraswat village community, over control of

the temple (Kanekar 2016). The mazans claim that the idol is theirs, and

brought by them from their destroyed temple in the Old Conquests, while the

villagers contest this, claiming both idol and temple as belonging originally to

the village community but were illegally taken over by the Saraswats. Such

contests can be found in other temples as well (Kerkar 2014).

In fact, there is a tradition in many of the biggest and Saraswat-

owned temples of inviting members of the severely discriminated-against

communities, whether Mhars or Kumbis or others, into the temple on some

special day, treating them like honoured guests, and then ‘purifying’ the

temple after they leave. Such rituals supposedly hark back to some favour

done by these communities to the templev – which might also imply some

injustice suffered by them – thus apparently reaching out to those of the

village community who are otherwise barred from the premises, but while

also reinforcing the caste hierarchy, and notions of purity/pollution and

untouchability.

Finally, there is the issue of temple as landlord. Though Goa saw legislation

enacted to distribute land to the tiller in the 1970s, the old Brahmanical

temples still rank among the big bhatcars in Goa, with subordinate caste

communities pressured to carry on unpaid caste-based services to the

temple under the threat of losing their homes on temple-owned land

(Kanekar 2019). Thus the economic power of the temple is also a power to

preserve it’s own institutionalisation of caste.

Given all this, it is no surprise to find that the new temple architecture is

emphatically archaic in most of its references, referencing primarily

ancient Brahmanical shrines from India. The patrons of rebuilding may call

it modernisation, but there is actually no contradiction between the

architectural and the social aspirations, for the ‘new’ is but a return to the

mythic but glorious Hindu past, where caste is not seen as a problem.

Conclusions

Thus, it becomes clear that the transformation – or lack thereof – of Goa’s

Brahmanical Hindu temple architecture is not just a matter of aesthetics,

but the result of social and political arrangements and aspirations, both

before and after 1961. The conflicts faced by the temple are of two kinds.

The first is connected to its physical form, where, far from seeing this as

heritage that needs protection, the temples’ own patrons see it an

embarrassing question-mark about their own identity. Under the influence

of rising Indian nationalism even before the integration into India, and

much more afterwards, the architecture of the major shrines changed from

referencing Goan churches and the Indian Islamicate, to a rejection of both

these, and the adoption of archaic Brahmanical forms from outside Goa.

The rise of mass Indian tourism, with its image of Goa as India’s little
Europe, modified this by bringing in Buddhist domes and Malabar roofs, to

create a faux-Goan look for the ignorant tourist.

The second conflict stems from the casteist or Brahminical ethos of the

temple, found in everything from architectural forms and access to spaces,

to ritual and employment, and ownership as well. The many specific

conflicts at different sites vary in issue, intensity and resolution, and

sometimes work to stall renovations. But the renovations and rebuilding

themselves do not resolve these conflicts. Because, despite all the newness,

and the loss of much architectural heritage, many of the casteist ideas that

informed this remain, thus showing the continued importance of caste in

contemporary Goan Hinduism.

--- CONCLUDED ---

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
The author would like to thank the Luigi and Laura Dallapiccola
Foundation for a grant that enabled the study from which this paper has
resulted.

GLOSSARY
Agrashala: Dormitory.
Bahujan: Of the majority/masses.
Balcão: Typical entrance porch of large Goan houses.
Bhatcar: Landlord
Karnata Dravida: A type of Hindu temple architecture from the Karnataka
region.
Latina: One of the Nagara types of temple architecture, with a curved
‘shikhara’ or sanctum tower.
Nagara: Conventionally considered the northern type of Hindu temple
architecture, but also originally found in western, central, and eastern
parts of South Asia.
Nagarkhana: Large gateway, seen in Islamicate forts and palaces, and also
Goan temples, where the ground-floor passage is overlooked by an upper
chamber which contained untouchable musicians who were to be heard but
not seen.

Tamil Dravida: A type of Hindu temple architecture of the Tamil region.

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Kowal, David, "Hindu Temples of Seventeenth and Eighteenth Century
Goa: The Maintenance of a Sacred Integrity and the Process of East-West
Cross Fertilization". Portuguese Study Review, vol. 9, nr.1-2, pp.398-434,
2001.

Shirodkar, P.P., “Reconstruction of Saptakoteshwar Temple by Shivaji: A

New Light”, Purabhilekh-Puratatva, pp 55-57, January-June 1991.

Paper Presented at a Conference

Kanekar, Amita, ‘The Evolution of the Goan Temple Dome’, presented at

conference ‘From S. Peter in the Vatican to Goa: Domes in Goan Religious
Architecture’, Instituto Camões, Panaji, February 2017.

Essays in the Popular Press

Kanekar, Amita, “What’s new in a new temple?”, O Heraldo, 17 November

2019, Edit>Opinions, pp 8.

Kanekar, Amita, “The Case of the Missing Temple”, O Heraldo, 12 January

2018, Edit>Opinions, pp 8.
Kanekar, Amita, “From Sateri to Navdurga, and Worshippers to Sevekaris”,
O Heraldo, 22 September 2016, Edit>Opinions, pp 8.
i As described in Kanekar (2018), it is usually hidden away in a distant spot within the temple complex (Ibrampur,
Casarvorem, Advalpale, Dhargalim, Poira, etc) or outside (Corgao, Xeldem, Shirgao, etc). If it has a shelter, this is
smaller and shabbier than all the other shrines (Ibrampur, Casarvorem); it frequently has only a gom for
protec on (Dhargalim’s Shantadurga, Shantadurga Calangutecarin and Shantadurga Candolcarin at Nanora,
Nerul’s Shantadurga at Nerul, Santeri at Shigoner. etc), and some mes no protec on at all (Vetal at Advalpale,
Rouloba at Veluz). At the Sharvani-Vetal at Advalpale, there is no icon either, just a spot where the icon used to be
and where offerings are le now.

ii Most Brahmanical temples in Goa are at least par ally Saraswat-owned, meaning that there will be Saraswats
among the Mazans, even if not in a majority or domina ng number. Parag Parobo (2020) explains that this was
probably because all temple documents would have been wri en and maintained by the Saraswats, who were the
scribes and record-keepers. According to Rochelle Pinto (2007), during the revolts of the nineteenth century, the
presence of Saraswat Nadkarnis (accountants) and Kulkarnis (scribes) in the legal and administra ve offices of the
state was opposed by the Ranes, accusing them of using their knowledge of record-keeping and other wri ng to
usurp territories and revenue-rights; one of the demands of the rebels was that no Brahmin be employed in
collec ng revenues.

iii The process of transforming a local deity into a Puranic one is known as Sanskri sa on or Brahminisa on of the
deity (Aldrovandi 2020). Parag Porobo (2015, pp. 20-21) points out that Sanskri sa on is not a harmonious
change through ritual adap on, but rather a mode of asser on, of demanding an equal share in local structures of
power; and also, as Aldrovandi puts it (2020, pp 11-12), of subordina ng the cult to the dominant one, even as it is
allowed to con nue.

iv Chandrakant Keni in Konkanakhyan (V M Salgaocar Founda on, 2001) p 6.

v The website of the prominent Saraswat-owned Shantadurga temple at Kavlem in the New Conquests
(http://www.shreeshantadurga.com/history_temple.asp; retrieved 16 July 2020) states that the village originally
belonged to the Mhar (Mahar) community, who provided shelter to the idol which had been brought from Keloshi
in the Old Conquests in the sixteenth century. It further adds that the entire village was later gifted to the temple by
the Peshwa of the Maratha kingdom, when he supported the building of a temple for the idol in the early
eighteenth century. So the refugee who had saught and been given asylum became the owner of the place!