RAJ BHANDARE
As I sit outside the passport office at Patto, Panaji, waiting for my turn, I’m struck not by the expected bureaucracy or delays, but by something far more unsettling … a silent ache that creeps in as I look around. Buildings, both government and private, rise in cold greys, blacks, and sterile steel. As an architect, I feel it immediately: a fast-changing landscape in which Goa once vibrant, expressive, and soul-filled, is being repainted into a dull monotony. Black and its shades of grey! Sad!
‘Why?’ I ask myself.
Goa, known across the world for its joyous blend of cultures, its effortless laughter, its sense of celebration, and creative spontaneity, is being steadily reduced to a lifeless palette. This is not merely about colour. It is about character. About soul.
There’s an old saying: “Show me the architecture, and I’ll tell you it’s culture.” If that’s true, what are we telling the world now? What are we showing our children and the tourists? What kind of “Goa” are we constructing , not just physically, but emotionally, culturally, and psychologically?
Once upon a time, Goa spoke in colour. Ochres, yellows, cobalt blues, terracotta reds, lime greens, and even humble white, each building was a personality, a celebration of individuality, a slice of sunshine. The built spaces of Goa echoed the carefree and cheerful disposition of its people. These weren’t just structures. They were stories. They were expressions.
Now, what rises is anonymous. Concrete boxes. Grim. Bland. Devoid of any cultural lineage, and offering no vision of a joyful future. Is this the cost of “development”? Or is it a symptom of something deeper … a subconscious desire to conform to an impersonal, globalised idea of “modernity”? Are we so eager to appear sophisticated that we’re willing to erase our uniqueness, our heritage?
Let’s pause and reflect.
Goan architecture wasn’t born overnight. It evolved gracefully over centuries, from humble vernacular traditions rooted in climate, material, and lifestyle… to the elegant Portuguese and European influences that came with colonisation. But Goa didn’t imitate; it transformed. We fused styles. The balcaos, the mother-of-pearl shell windows, the ornamental brackets, the courtyard houses, and the vibrant palette were all woven together with local craft and artisanal skill. What emerged was not a copy of Europe, nor an extension of India. It was something entirely its own: Goan architecture!
That fusion was our genius. It reflected the Goan spirit: open yet rooted, graceful yet grounded. Today, that spirit is being buried under flat façades and imported design templates that have no connection to our sun, soil, or spirit.
Let us not forget “when a culture stops expressing, it starts eroding”
This isn’t a call for nostalgia. It’s a plea for balance. If not in form, can we at least retain the language of colour? Because this isn’t just about aesthetics. Goa’s visual identity has deep emotional and psychological resonance. Bright colours uplift. They speak of joy, resilience, abundance. They remind us that life here is a celebration!
What happens when we strip that away? What kind of emotional environment are we building for our people?
It’s time to ask some hard and hopeful questions:
Can urban guidelines encourage colour palettes inspired by Goa’s natural and cultural heritage?
Can government buildings lead by example, showcasing thoughtful, vibrant architecture that uplifts?
Can private developers be incentivised to embrace contextual design that respects local identity?
Can our schools of architecture instil pride in regional expression rather than mimicry?
And can we, as citizens, realise that choosing colour is not just decoration….it is cultural preservation.
This is about Goankarpon. Our shared identity. Our inherited joy. Our ability to celebrate through design, space, and expression.
Let’s bring colour back to Goa , not just on our walls, but in our hearts, in our thinking, in our vision. We owe it to ourselves, and to the generations to come.
And on a lighter note. , these rapid changes feel less like “Goankarpon” and more like… Goankar porn!
So here’s my appeal: Stay expressive. Stay vibrant. Stay Goan.
Viva Goankaar!
(The writer is an architect )
