Opening Doorz
“Celebrating Life”
By Moody Marty | Opening Doorz Editorial | October 26, 2025 Goa in the seventies and early eighties was heaven on earth. Tourists from Europe flocked to the coastal state […]
By Moody Marty | Opening Doorz Editorial | October 26, 2025
Goa in the seventies and early eighties was heaven on earth. Tourists from Europe flocked to the coastal state for its beaches, charm, and the easy rhythm of life. Indians from Bombay, especially those with Goan roots, made their yearly summer pilgrimage without fail.
Even before the school final exams ended, tickets were booked in advance. Anticipation reached its highest on the day Konkan Shakti or Konkan Sevak dropped anchor at the Mazgaon Docks. Alternatively, it soared when private buses rolled out from Azad Maidan. It was the signal—the holidays had begun.
Then it was two months of bliss. Mornings started with kanji at 10 a.m., not long after breakfast. Afternoons melted into hearty Goan lunches, snacks at teatime, and then dinner that wrapped up the day’s adventures.
And in between? We roamed the vaddo (village). We used slingshots to knock down coconuts and the highest-hanging raw mangoes. We cycled endlessly on roads paved with red mud. We rolled in the sand on the beach until our skin turned golden. As we grew older, we started sipping Arlem beer for eight bucks. If a kindly uncle was around, maybe a taste of urrak or feni—not always in that order, and certainly not at the same time!
That was then… when Goa was Goa. When open spaces were a given, not a luxury. North Goa (Bardez), especially Calangute, and Anjuna—the villages I spent summer holidays in—were slices of paradise.
Today, rolling in the sand on Calangute Beach is unthinkable. At noon back then, you saw vast stretches of sand; the beaches were empty but for a few locals. Today, the same stretch is packed, even when the sun is overhead. It’s a sight [and not in a good way] for the beer holder. You can’t even see the sand on the beach!
The European tourists who once lent Goa its cosmopolitan, relaxed vibe have slowly disappeared. There are a few who still return, but the loyal tourists who once returned year after year have thinned. Calangute has changed. My cousins in Calangute are boxed in between random construction. Once, it was only open spaces.
The Baga stretch is choked with construction and traffic. Candolim resembles Crawford Market in Mumbai. My excitement for Goa had begun to fade. The Goa of my childhood, the Goa I yearned for, seemed lost.
And then I discovered Divar. The island always existed. However, I set foot on it for the first time only recently, despite having heard stories about it all my life.
What I found on Divar Island was the Goa I had grown up loving. Quiet streets, regal old houses, tree-lined lanes, and the calming hum of the breeze dancing over paddy fields. Divar is everything Calangute and Anjuna used to be. And the moment I set foot on the island, I knew I didn’t want to go anywhere else. This is Goa that was.
After all, isn’t that what a holiday is meant to be? A return to calm. A chance to unwind. To disconnect from chaos and reconnect with something real.
And on this peaceful island sits a gem of a resort—Devaaya. Or as it is now known, Mercure Goa Devaaya Retreat—a home within a resort.
Tucked along the banks of the Mandovi River, Devaaya is unlike any other place I’ve stayed in, in Goa. Spread across six lush acres, the retreat feels like a secret garden, filled with flowering trees, fresh air, and the calmest quiet. You don’t hear the blaring horns of traffic here. Instead, you hear the chirping of birds, the croaking of frogs, the rustling of palms, and the occasional village bell.
Devaaya invites you to take things slow. It’s not just about staying—it’s about living. You can go on long walks through the village, cycle around the island, or sit quietly on the jetty, watching fishermen cast their nets into the river. There are jogging tracks, boat rides, swimming pools, and a yoga pavilion that overlooks nature at its best.
And then there’s the food. Authentic Goan cuisine, and some more.
‘Manos’, the resort’s seafood restaurant, serves fish so fresh that it comes straight from the sluice gate beside the property. The view of the river as you dine is unforgettable. Their cocktails are generous, and the ambience makes you want to linger for hours.
If you prefer vegetarian fare, ‘Malar‘, located beside the pool, offers authentic Goan vegetarian dishes made from organic ingredients—pure, simple, and delicious. For a meal under the stars, visit ‘Jetty’, the riverside deck. It provides a magical experience, especially on full moon nights. On those nights, the Mandovi shimmers under the silver light.
For those seeking inspiration, the lawns and yoga pavilion offer a sacred space for poets, writers, and thinkers. It is also a haven for anyone who needs to take a breath again. Everything about Devaaya is designed to help you pause and reflect.
Guests can’t stop raving about it either. One couple wrote, “Coming to Mercure was one of the best decisions we made. The place is beautiful, serene, and peaceful. From the bar to the restaurant, the service was impeccable.” Another guest described it as an “unforgettable stay in the heart of nature.” Still others called it “worth every penny” and “a peaceful, rejuvenating escape.”
It’s not just about hospitality here. It’s about the heart. The people who work here make you feel like you’ve returned home. You don’t feel like you’ve just checked into a resort.
Devaaya is run by the trusted Alcon Victor Group, known for its excellence in hospitality and healthcare across Goa. With properties like Novotel Dona Sylvia and Radisson Blu under their wing, they bring years of expertise to every guest’s experience.
But it’s Divar that makes Devaaya magical. The island retains its old-world charm. Its Churches perched on hills, small taverns, and sleepy by-lanes tell stories of a Goa that refuses to disappear. In the afternoons, on the roads lined with heritage houses, you can hear a pin drop.
So, if you, like me, miss the Goa that once was, head to Divar. Come to Devaaya. Let the silence heal you. Let the breeze remind you. Let the island take you back to when Goa was still Goa.
And if the soul still seeks quiet beyond Divar, it will find it in South Goa. Unlike the frenzied buzz of the north, the south has held on to its silence. It boasts stretches of clean beaches. Life here proceeds at a pace that hasn’t surrendered to unchecked development. Villages like Macasena, Palolem, Agonda, Assolna, and Chandor still breathe with grace. Locals greet you with smiles. The sunsets don’t compete with loudspeakers. Here, Goa’s spirit lives on—not as a tourist commodity, but as a feeling. Untouched, unhurried, and just as it was meant to be.
FOOTNOTES:
i) Konkan Shakti and Konkan Sevak were the legendary ships that ferried eager travellers to Goa. For just forty bucks, you had yourself a seat. Add another ten for the coolie, who’d race ahead to claim your spot with a bedsheet even before the ship dropped anchor.
ii) Kanji—cooked red rice in water—is a Goan staple, especially for youngsters, who had no choice but to gulp it down, often with kalchi kodi (leftover curry from the previous day).
iii) Urak and Feni are signature local brews from Goa made from either cashew or coconut. Urak, the milder of the two, creeps up on you slowly… but surely!
[Moody Marty: Sometimes funny, sometimes informative, always downright forthright!]
Image Credits: Opening Doorz and Devaaya Resort Website
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