Every year, in parts of Goa, the Shigmo festival turns villages into carnivals of music, dance, and colour. In most places, it’s a celebration of spring’s arrival, smeared in joy. But in the villages of Amone, Sal, Kudne, Karapur, Pilgao, and Bicholim, Shigmo in the 1990s, the festival took a grotesque turn. Here, the dead are not left to rest. Graves are exhumed. Bones, tied to sticks, are paraded before the village deity in a dance of desecration.
This detail appears in ‘Untouchable Goa’, a collection of essays by the late journalist and writer Dadu Mandrekar. The book, now available in English through a translation by Nikhil Baisane, published by Panther’s Paw Publication, urges us to look beyond the postcard image of Goa — to look at its stories of caste violence, erasure, and resilience.
“What you see in this text is only a fraction of what I experienced and recorded,” Dadu Mandrekar writes. “Objectivity is the foundation of this work. I have tried to avoid exaggeration.”
Translating horror & humanity
It’s the commitment to truth-telling that gives the book its raw, cutting power. “The book has a raw and angry voice, but at the same time, it is not brash,” says the translator. “It is a mixture of rawness with composure, frustration with beauty, and with all the ugliness that is caste. I wanted to keep all of this alive and tried hard to do so by revisiting his work and my translation multiple times.”
In one striking description, Dadu describes how Mahars, who eat mutton and chicken proudly in their kitchens, treat fish as a pollutant. He asks, if gods could take the form of a fish (Matsya avatar), why is the actual fish suddenly dirty? Nikhil, who stayed close to Dadu’s tone, shares, “I think a lesser writer, or even a ‘lesser human being’ would have found it impossible to maintain the balance between horror and humour in such contexts. It is easy to laugh at the expense of others, but these people weren’t ‘others’ for Dadu, nor are they ‘others’ for me.” You see this balance most clearly in how the rituals for the dead are described: women’s corpses buried face-down, surrounded by torn clothes and seeds, so their spirits, if they rise, stay busy stitching or harvesting instead of haunting the living.
The writer also shows how women are punished, not just for being born, but for bleeding, for giving birth, for dying in the “wrong” house. A menstruating woman or a woman postpartum is forced into isolation, her utensils marked, her touch feared. But if she dies during that time, the cruelty multiplies. Her body is buried in secret, turned away from the sky, with needles and shredded clothes meant to trap her spirit. Dadu recalls how a woman who died in her maternal home was hastily buried by her family (so that her spirit wouldn’t claim on the living and their possessions), only for dogs to later unearth and ‘devour’ her body. For Dadu, this brutality reflects a culture where women are molested in life, mutilated in death, and treated as worthless once married.
“The constant reminders of subtle caste violence do leave you feeling troubled,” shares Nikhil. “Dadu has also described the violence of old age and has dived deep into the violence towards women. Each of them had me take breaks, calm down, and think about them. Dadu has written about a period that’s at least a couple of decades old, but I could connect the incidents that he has mentioned or the violence that he talks about with my surroundings, with the current state of the world. This continuation of the same violence was scarring and scary for me, not as a translator, but just as a human being.”
Through 18 essays, the book delves into the unseen and unheard traditions. For Nikhil, bringing these words into English was an entry into the reality he had never fully grappled with before. “While I was aware that caste existed in Goa (as it does almost everywhere) I had not really thought about it. This book however, allowed me to think about it, engage with it, and ignited my curiosity to learn more about it,” he admits. The translator was particularly surprised “how Goa seemed to have stayed away from the anti-caste movement of Maharashtra and North Karnataka,” and suggested that Portuguese colonialism played a role, among other factors.
This English translation gives Dadu’s powerful voice a crucial second life. At the Goa launch, Nikhil met Dadu’s Marathi-speaking friends. Though they didn’t read English, they were “extremely happy” the book was translated, hoping “Dadu reaches far and wide across the nation.” Nikhil firmly believes “there is no ideal reader for this work because it is something that everyone should read.”
So, what next for a moved reader? Nikhil offers clear steps: “Try to find out more about Dadu and engage with his other works. Also read more about caste in contemporary India, especially Goa. Check out @casteingoa on Instagram. Check out other titles by Panther’s Paw, which will surely help you to understand caste further.”
The book is a call to learn and act. Because, as Dadu writes, the fight requires more than knowledge. “Awareness alone does not move Indians. To bring about true transformation, long struggles, revolutions, and movements are required. Anyone who challenges societal norms must tread a difficult path — one riddled with resistance and hardship.” ‘Untouchable Goa’ is the vital spark for that long, necessary struggle.