Divar - A heaven within a paradise

For me Islands are like those longing lovers, who spend their years with a hope to reunite with the one that they feel they actually belong to. At first, they’re dispirited, lonely, and feel aloof from the rest of the world. Try to catch hold of situations; and time. But as the time pass by, some lose themselves while some retrieve their self. The one, who retrieve, suddenly transforms themselves into a self realisation soul. The outcome; flourishes and let flourish.

 

Much of this understanding goes with the beautifully flourished Island called Divar. Situated just 5 kms away from the capital city of Panjim, the Island exudes every possible captivating trick to allure way-farers. Soothing its contours by being amidst the meandering Mandovi River, the Island’s coastline shielded itself by thick vegetation of mangroves, which made it look like a no man’s land.

 
I took a ferry boat, the only source; from Old Goa pier that plied from one ramp to another to reach the 15 square kilometre Island. As the ferry moved against the flow of Mandovi, it took a U turn to harbour itself at the other end. With that it introduced us to some amazing vistas of the vicinity. To our left was the great stretch of Mandovi Bridge, standing strongly and steadily while holding its breath, bridging the gap between regions. On our front was the extended range of Ribander hillocks, occupied by some holiday villas and settlements, overlooking the serenity of the water body. And to our right was the fascinating view of the 16^th Century’s Cathedrals and Basilicas of Old Goa, towering above the coconut trees, keeping an eye on the then Rome of the East.

The excitement to explore the island shot-up as the ferry kissed its shores. I landed to discover that there was a winding pathway carved out of a dry grass land, showcasing various shades of brown with dry trees emerging en route. The scene lasted for at least a mile until the nearby Piedade village stopped it at its contours. Birds of awe-inspiring feathers kept on soaring while demonstrating some bewildering stunts in the air. Catching preys. Following soul mates. Flocking around. Claiming territory. Their wings barely rested.

 

Village Piedade presented a complete contrast look than what I came across while riding. Spread at the bottom of a small forested hillock, a grand church appeared atop the hillock, overlooking the fields and village down under. A temple’s dome too extended its neck to mark its presence to the onlookers. It was an idyllic setting that raised my curiosity to undergo the locale. 

I moved into the settlement with an impression to discover countryside, but what I regarded, turned out to be contrary. I came across an array of grand age-old Portuguese styled mansions. They portrayed details and richness in every aspect. Be it through the designs, the structures, the veranda, the visual attributes, all were blended seamlessly to give those mansions larger-than-life look. I understood that the village was one of those yesteryear hamlets, wherein the paakhé (as called by the Goans to its then rulers because of the white-coloured uniform worn by them) established their initial stronghold by forcing or bribing locals by offering wealth when they get baptised.

 

The mansions were built around the meandering thoroughfare that travelled as far as the edges of the village and to the top of the forested hillock, where the historical church was located. We came across a small junction wherein one of the roads touched the temple’s steps. I asked my friend let’s go to the shrine first and later on to the bethel. But he insisted on visiting vice versa. As we resumed finding our way out, we got trapped in the maze of that rambling route. We stopped at a shop to know the exact way. But even after knowing, we were unable to locate the correct one and thus landed at the same small junction that we left some time ago. May be the temple’s lord wanted us to visit him first and then to proceed.

 
We arrived at the shrine just to discover that it was Shaktivinayak’s temple, one of the regional forms of Lord Ganesha. A typical dome styled temple with sage statues seated atop guarding four corners, it was enveloped within the wooded territory by the edge of the hillock, overlooking the spellbinding views, peeping its dome out to get noticed from far end. 

 

When we were approaching the temple, we got surprised to notice that the hill church, for which we took parikramas of the whole village, was situated right on a naturally elongated knoll that neighboured the temple area. Our whole idea to discover the route to hill church that created curiosity within when we started-off, earned a being-stupid-smile on our face.

Inside, the idol of Ganesha was made out of a black stone. With marbles-sized round white eyes that had a black spot in the centre, it inspired awe, at the same time fear too, but the calmness on his face expressed benignity. When we stepped outside the temple, we heard an unusual call of a Peahen’s herd that appeared from the sylvan surrounds. At first, we both showed an interest to detect their exact whereabouts, but at the same time, our eyes fell upon the church’s nave roof. So we took a byway that connected the two great house-of-prayers.

It was Our Lady of Compassion Church; one of the insignias of the Portuguese rulers. The grandness of the white-washed church with strokes of blue on the edges of the blind arcade was quite impressive. Though the recent rains faded its outer look, the statue of Mother Mary cradling injured Christ, which was placed on top of one of the Church’s piscina, gave that structure an intensive touch.

As expected, the exquisitely carved main door was closed, but the unusual silence kept creeping outside. This is a peculiar feeling that I often experienced, whenever I came across huge churches. Reason being could be their close proximity to the cemetery. That fills the aura with a feeling that some invisible power revolves around you. A dispirited soul wants you to stay back at bay. Because it’s a place that belongs to them; a place where no one is a landlord or a peasant; a place where they can rest in peace.

Whatever the reason be, I wanted them to breathe, the life after death. I took a glance of the neighbourhood. It displayed some of those views which any would love to take home. And I realised that this is a heavenly place that resides within a paradise called Goa, from where even the departed would never like to depart.