Photo by Joshua Newton on Unsplash/ /Representative Image
As dusk settles across Goa, while most of the world surrenders to sleep, the village of Shirgao comes alive. Here, the air pulses with the rhythm of drums, the resonance of ancient chants, and a collective energy that feels as old as the land itself. This is not a spectacle for the curious - it is a pilgrimage for the faithful. The fire that blazes in Shirgao each May is not a stage, but a sanctum; every ember is a whispered prayer, every footprint across the coals a testament to devotion.
On May 2, 2025, more than 20,000 devotees converged on Shirgao for the Lairai Devi Jatra, a number that grows with each passing year. They came not for thrill, but for faith-undaunted by pain, undeterred by headlines, and unbowed by the blaze beneath their feet. Here, the fire-walking ritual known as Agnidivya is the soul of the festival. The dhonds, as the fire-walkers are called, prepare through days of fasting, prayer, and purification, their resolve forged as much by discipline as by belief.
The ritual unfolds in the temple’s shadow: firewood arranged in a pyramid is set alight, and as the flames die to embers, the dhonds-barefoot and unwavering-walk across the burning coals. Each step is an act of surrender, a plea for peace, prosperity, and well-being, and a demonstration of resilience that transcends the physical.
Lairai is not merely a local deity; she is the living spirit of Shirgao, her legend and presence deeply interwoven with the village’s identity and daily life. Revered as a form of Shakti - divine feminine energy-Lairai is considered an incarnation of Parvati and is celebrated for her fierce protection, benevolence, and unwavering bond with her devotees.
According to local legend, Lairai is one of the Saptamatrikas, the seven divine sisters worshipped across the Konkan region. These sisters, along with their brother, journeyed from Kashi and eventually settled in different villages, each becoming the presiding deity of her chosen home. Lairai selected Shirgao, where her temple now stands as the heart of the community.
A central aspect of her lore is her promise: Lairai vowed never to abandon her devotees. This pledge is reciprocated each year during the fire-walking ritual, when thousands walk barefoot across burning embers in a powerful act of faith. For the villagers, this is not just a test of endurance, but a sacred duet, way of walking with Lairai, mirroring her own legendary act of penance, and affirming, “Nor will we”.
The annual festival, known as the Lairai Dhondachi Zatra, is defined by the dramatic fire-walking ritual (Homkhand). Devotees, known as dhonds, prepare for weeks through fasting and vows, culminating in their barefoot passage over a bed of glowing coals. This act is believed to be possible only through Lairai’s divine protection, with each step across the flames serving as both a prayer and a reaffirmation of the goddess’s presence.
Lairai’s temple is simple yet spiritually profound. The goddess is represented not by a traditional idol but by a sacred “Kalash”-an inverted copper pot, draped in cloth and crowned, believed to embody her presence. Offerings of jasmine buds, her favorite flower, are made with devotion; a single bud placed in the Kalash during the festival remains miraculously fresh until the next year’s celebration.
Lairai is seen as a powerful guardian, credited with healing, granting wishes, and protecting her devotees from harm and misfortune. Her worship is believed to bring prosperity and spiritual renewal, and the annual festival serves as a time for community bonding and reaffirmation of shared faith.
For Shirgao, Lairai is more than a goddess - she is family, protector, and the enduring flame in the village’s heart. The fire-walk is not just a ritual, but a living testament to a promise kept on both sides: a night when faith burns brighter than fear, and the goddess walks with her people, step for sacred step.
For generations, the legend of Lairai has not just inspired awe but has been a lifeline for those in need. Stories abound in Shirgao and beyond: women once told they could never conceive returning to cradle newborns, patients walking away from illnesses that defied medical explanation, and families reunited with lost sons - all after making a heartfelt vow, or mannat, to the goddess. These are not isolated tales but a living tradition, retold and reaffirmed each year as the embers glow.
The annual fire walk at the Lairai Jatra is not an act of bravado or spectacle. It is a profound gesture of gratitude. For many, the walk across burning coals is the only way to keep a promise made in desperation - a silent, sacred thank you for a prayer answered. The ritual is deeply personal; each step across the embers is a fulfillment of a vow, a tangible expression of faith and thanksgiving.
In 2024, a man from Pune embodied this spirit when he returned for his sixth fire-walk after surviving a near-fatal accident. His simple words, “I promised her. I had to come,” echo the sentiment of countless devotees who believe that Lairai’s intervention changed their fate. For them, the annual ordeal is not about testing physical limits, but honoring a spiritual debt.
Those who undertake the fire-walk, known as dhonds, prepare with intense discipline: abstaining from meat and alcohol, dedicating themselves to prayer, and following rituals of purification for weeks in advance. This preparation is as much about spiritual readiness as physical endurance, reinforcing the sincerity of their gratitude.
The stories of miraculous recoveries and answered prayers fuel the tradition, drawing thousands each year to Shirgao. The fire-walk becomes a collective act of remembrance, gratitude, and renewed faith - a living testimony that, for many, when words are not enough, walking through fire is the truest way to say thank you.
“She protects us,” many say, eyes closed in prayer, even as their feet blister.
The fire-walking ritual of Shirgao’s Lairai Devi Jatra is not merely a personal act of devotion; it is a living inheritance, passed from one generation to the next. For families in Shirgao and neighboring villages, this tradition is a sacred thread binding past, present, and future.
Grandfathers who once ran barefoot across the coals now watch with trembling hands as their sons and grandsons step into the flames, continuing a lineage of devotion. To opt out would feel, for many, like severing a bond not just with family, but with the goddess herself and the community’s collective memory. The ritual is a rite of passage, often first undertaken by boys as young as ten and continued into old age, with elders guiding and blessing the youth as they prepare for their own walk.
The festival’s six days are marked by communal fasting, rituals, and feasts, with entire families and villages contributing to preparations and celebrations. The dhonds-those who undertake the fire-walk-are supported by their kin and community, reinforcing the idea that this is a shared act, not an isolated feat. Even as Goa rapidly modernizes, the youth return each May, leaving behind city life, phones, and modern distractions to take part in something timeless and deeply rooted.
Despite the pull of modernity, the ritual endures, its meaning deepened by the visible presence of multiple generations. The fire-walk is not just a test of individual faith, but a renewal of collective identity - a moment when the village, across ages, stands united before the goddess. As the embers cool and the sun rises, each new generation ensures that the sacred thread remains unbroken, the legacy of Lairai alive in every step across the ash.
The fire-walking ritual at Shirgao’s Lairai Jatra is rooted in a profound belief: those who walk with pure hearts and sacred intent are protected by the goddess herself. Devotees, known as Dhonds, prepare through days of fasting, prayer, and ritual purification before stepping barefoot onto a bed of glowing embers. Despite the searing heat, many emerge unscathed-no blisters, no burns-strengthening the conviction that Lairai’s touch shields them from harm.
This faith is unshakable. For participants, the absence of injury is not a matter of chance or physical explanation; it is a sign of divine favor. The act is seen as a sacred pact: walk with devotion, and Lairai will walk with you. Scientists may point to factors like the insulating properties of ash, the speed of the walk, or the resilience of human skin, but for the devotees, these explanations pale beside the lived reality of their faith.
Each year, this trust is renewed as children as young as ten and elders in their seventies cross the embers, chanting the goddess’s name, many repeating the act multiple times. The ritual is not bravado - it is a fearless affirmation that, in the glow of the sacred fire, they are never alone. For the faithful, the miracle is not in the science, but in the certainty that Lairai walks with them, and that is protection enough.
“My father walked, I walk, my son will walk,” says a 46-year-old from Mapusa, who hasn’t missed a single Zatra since he was ten.
Devotees participating in the fire-walking ritual employ a blend of physical, psychological, and spiritual strategies to cope with its intense challenges:
Many devotees undergo days or weeks of spiritual preparation, including fasting, abstaining from meat and alcohol, and practicing celibacy. This period of discipline is believed to purify the body and mind, fostering a sense of sacred purpose that helps devotees endure discomfort and pain.
The act is deeply rooted in faith; devotees believe that walking with a clean heart and sacred intent invokes the goddess’s protection. This conviction can reduce anxiety and heighten pain tolerance, creating a sense of divine immunity.
Fire-walkers move quickly and lightly across the coals, minimizing the time their feet are in contact with the hot surface. Coals are poor conductors of heat, and a layer of ash can provide additional insulation, further reducing the risk of burns.
Devotees avoid wetting their feet before the walk, as moisture can cause the skin to stick to the coals and increase the risk of injury.
The ritual triggers the release of endorphins, the body’s natural painkillers, which can produce feelings of euphoria and accomplishment, helping devotees cope with pain and fatigue.
Many participants report entering trance-like or highly focused states, which can alter their perception of pain and physical stress. Studies have shown that fire-walkers often experience a significant increase in happiness and a sense of achievement after completing the ritual, despite the physical ordeal.
The presence of family, fellow devotees, and the larger community provides emotional and psychological support, reinforcing each individual’s resolve and resilience. The collective nature of the ritual can create a powerful sense of unity and shared purpose, making the challenge more bearable.
While injuries can occur, they are relatively rare compared to what might be expected, and most devotees do not use artificial means to protect their feet. The combination of faith, technique, and psychological readiness appears to play a significant role in this outcome.
In summary, devotees cope with the physical challenges of fire-walking through a combination of spiritual discipline, proper technique, psychological resilience, and community support-transforming a potentially hazardous ordeal into a profound act of faith and endurance.
Photo by Jordon Conner on Unsplash/Representative Image
For the devotees at the Lairai Devi Jatra, the fire-walking ritual is not an act of bravado or a test of physical endurance explained by science-it is a profound demonstration of faith. Participants, known as dhonds, believe they are shielded from harm not by the insulating properties of ash or the speed of their steps, but by the divine grace of Goddess Lairai herself.
A young woman from Kolhapur captures this sentiment: “I should be scared, but I feel nothing but peace when I step onto the fire.” This peace is echoed by countless others who, after weeks of fasting and prayer, step barefoot onto burning embers with unwavering trust in the goddess’s protection. For them, the absence of burns or blisters is not a matter of physics-it is a testament to a spiritual bond, a collective armor of belief that transcends modern logic.
The ritual is the spiritual centerpiece of the festival, drawing thousands who witness or participate in this extraordinary act of devotion. While scientists may offer rational explanations, for the faithful, it is Lairai’s touch-and not the laws of nature-that keeps them unscathed. In Shirgao, the flames are not just endured; they are embraced, as a living symbol of a trust that no modern reasoning can unravel.
The Zatra of Shirgao is far more than a ritual of endurance; it is a living reunion that weaves together the social and spiritual fabric of Goa. Each May, the village transforms into a vibrant hub where neighbors reconnect, old friends share meals, and strangers find kinship beneath the same smoky sky. The festival’s power lies in its ability to dissolve boundaries-between villages, between generations, and even between skeptics and believers, who often find themselves silenced by awe and humility as they witness the devotion and spectacle.
In May 2025, Shirgao saw the highest influx of interstate pilgrims in a decade, with estimates ranging from 30,000 to 40,000 attendees. Devotees traveled from Goa, Maharashtra, Karnataka, and beyond, undeterred by sweltering heat or logistical hurdles-a testament to the enduring call of the fire and the goddess. This year’s gathering, however, was marked by tragedy: a stampede in the early hours claimed at least six lives and left over 60 injured, with several in critical condition. Despite the sorrow, the community’s response was immediate and unified, with local officials, medical teams, and even the Prime Minister offering support and condolences.
The festival’s heartbeat is collective: from the rhythmic clashing of sticks in the temple’s midnight dance to the grand procession of the goddess and the climactic fire-walk, every ritual is shared. Villagers from Shirgao and neighboring areas like Maulingem participate in offerings and ceremonies throughout the day, reinforcing bonds that last well beyond the festival. As the bonfire blazes and the embers cool, devotees-young and old-run across the coals chanting Lairai’s name, some repeating the act multiple times before discarding their garlands on the banyan tree and heading home at sunrise.
Even amid loss, the Zatra’s spirit endures. The tragedy of 2025 brought forth a wave of solidarity, with the government pledging inquiries and support for the affected families. The festival’s communal nature became even more apparent, as villagers, officials, and pilgrims rallied together to care for the injured and mourn the departed.
A Tragedy Foretold? Crowd Warnings Ignored
This year’s stampede at the Lairai Devi Jatra in Shirgao was not entirely unforeseen. For years, locals and festival regulars had voiced concerns about the festival’s inadequate infrastructure and safety protocols, especially as the event’s popularity surged due to social media and tourism.
Local residents had repeatedly warned authorities about the lack of barricades, poor lighting, and insufficient emergency response measures around the temple, particularly on the narrow, sloping paths that see the densest crowds during peak rituals.
Eyewitnesses and villagers noted that the slope near the temple, where the stampede occurred, was poorly lit and lacked proper crowd control, making it dangerously susceptible to panic or accidents.
Despite these warnings, crowd management strategies did not keep pace with the festival’s exponential growth. This year, estimates suggest 30,000 to as many as 70,000 devotees converged on Shirgao, overwhelming the available infrastructure and security arrangements.
The immediate trigger was reportedly an electric shock when a devotee’s cane touched a bulb, causing him to collapse and setting off panic in the tightly packed crowd. The incident happened on a slippery, sloped stretch, amplifying the chaos as people lost their balance and fell, leading to a domino effect.
Overcrowding, lack of barricades, and poor lighting turned a minor incident into a deadly stampede, with six confirmed dead and dozens injured.
The festival’s growing fame through social media and tourism has brought larger crowds each year, but crowd control measures have not evolved accordingly.
This year, only about 400 police personnel were deployed for a crowd that reached up to 70,000, and real-time communication was limited.
Villagers tried to intervene and manage the crowd, but their efforts were insufficient against the scale of the gathering and the lack of structural support.
In the wake of the tragedy, state officials acknowledged the need for a formal inquiry and promised to make the findings public.
The incident has reignited calls for urgent reforms in festival management, including better lighting, robust barricading, and more comprehensive emergency response systems to prevent such foreseeable disasters in the future.
The Shirgao tragedy stands as a stark reminder that reverence and tradition must be matched by preparedness and respect for life-especially as the festival’s reach continues to grow.
Evidence suggests the tragedy could have been mitigated, if not entirely prevented. Despite elaborate security arrangements-including the deployment of over 1,000 police personnel, drone surveillance, and riot control vehicles-preliminary investigations and eyewitness accounts point to critical gaps in crowd control, infrastructure, and emergency response. Locals had warned about the lack of barricades, poor lighting, and the risks posed by narrow, sloped pathways. The incident was triggered when a devotee received an electric shock and collapsed, causing panic in an already densely packed crowd. Overcrowding, insufficient barricading, and inadequate management of the growing number of attendees were all cited as contributing factors. With better anticipation of crowd surges and more robust physical barriers and evacuation protocols, the scale of the tragedy might have been reduced.
While ambulances and medical teams were on standby and responded quickly, the sheer size of the crowd-estimated at 50,000 to 70,000-overwhelmed available resources. The festival has seen rising attendance each year, fueled by social media and tourism, but emergency services and crowd management infrastructure have not kept pace with this growth. Reports highlight that the number of medical personnel, ambulances, and on-site emergency facilities were insufficient for an event of this scale, especially given the known risks of overcrowding and the challenging terrain. The lack of proactive scaling of emergency resources in line with the festival’s increasing popularity remains a key point of criticism.
This is a complex and sensitive question. The Lairai Jatra’s fire-walking and mass gatherings are deeply rooted in centuries-old tradition and spiritual identity. However, the tragedy underscores the urgent need for rituals to adapt to contemporary realities-especially regarding crowd safety, infrastructure, and emergency preparedness. Many believe that reverence for tradition and respect for life are not mutually exclusive. Measures such as improved lighting, clear evacuation routes, stricter crowd limits, and better medical readiness can be implemented without diluting the festival’s spiritual core. The challenge is to preserve the ritual’s essence while ensuring the safety and well-being of all participants-a balance that the community and authorities must now urgently address.
The fire-walking ritual of Shirgao’s Lairai Devi Jatra stands at a pivotal moment. In the wake of the 2025 tragedy, where a stampede claimed several lives and injured dozens, the festival’s future is being shaped by urgent conversations around safety, crowd management, and the role of ancient rituals in a rapidly modernizing society.
The sheer scale of the event-drawing 30,000 to 70,000 devotees-has brought intense scrutiny from both authorities and the public. Questions have been raised about crowd control, lighting, and emergency preparedness, especially after reports indicated that a combination of swelling crowds, a poorly lit slope, and a sudden electric shock triggered the deadly rush. Despite the deployment of over 1,000 police personnel, drones for aerial surveillance, and riot control vehicles, the incident exposed gaps in planning and the need for even more robust measures.
Rather than fading under this scrutiny, the tradition is adapting. Authorities have responded with promises of improved crowd management, better infrastructure, and enhanced medical readiness. Ambulances, 24/7 emergency helplines, and coordinated rescue operations were swiftly mobilized in 2025, and future editions of the festival are expected to see further upgrades in safety protocols and logistical planning. There is also a growing emphasis on educating devotees about the spiritual significance of the ritual, reinforcing that reverence for tradition must go hand-in-hand with respect for life.
The flames of the Agnidivya ritual still burn, but so does the commitment to protecting every participant. The Lairai Devi Jatra remains a powerful symbol of faith and community, but its custodians now recognize that honoring the goddess also means safeguarding her devotees. As Goa modernizes and rationalist voices grow louder, the festival endures-not by resisting change, but by embracing it, ensuring that devotion and safety move forward together.
Shirgao’s Zatra is at a crossroads, balancing the weight of centuries-old belief with the realities of the present. The fire-walk continues, but with a renewed respect for both the sacred and the human, proving that true tradition evolves without losing its soul.
The Lairai Devi Jatra of Shirgao, famed for its dramatic fire-walking ritual, stands at a pivotal moment as Goa-and India-grapples with questions of safety, climate, and rationalism. The 2025 celebration, marked by a tragic stampede that claimed several lives and injured many more, has intensified scrutiny of the festival’s practices and management. Yet, rather than fading under pressure, the tradition is actively adapting to the realities of a changing world.
The fire-walking ritual, where dhonds walk barefoot across burning embers as an act of devotion, has come under increasing examination due to the risks involved and the sheer scale of the event, which this year drew an estimated 30,000–50,000 devotees.
The 2025 stampede was triggered by a combination of factors: a swelling crowd, a poorly lit and narrow sloped path, and insufficient crowd control measures. A sudden fall on the slope created a domino effect, leading to chaos and tragedy.
In response to these challenges, the festival has seen unprecedented security and organizational measures:
The flames of the Homkhan ritual and the fire-walk remain central, but the approach to the festival is evolving. There is a clear shift toward balancing reverence for tradition with a respect for life and safety, acknowledging the need for scientific crowd management and disaster preparedness.
The tragedy has prompted calls for further improvements- better lighting, clearer pathways, stricter access controls, and enhanced coordination between authorities and the temple management.
The aftermath of the 2025 Lairai Jatra tragedy in Shirgao is a time of deep mourning and reflection. The village grieves for its lost and injured, but the community’s resolve to honor tradition remains unshaken. Local leaders, victim families, and devotees are united in demanding both accountability for the failures that led to the disaster and respect for the spiritual core of the festival.
Despite the tragedy, the fire-walking ritual - the spiritual heart of the Jatra will remain. For the people of Shirgao and thousands of pilgrims, the ritual is not just a tradition but an expression of identity, faith, and community continuity. The flames are seen as a sacred bond with the goddess Lairai, and for many, participation is a matter of personal and collective honor.
The path forward is one of balance: mourning the dead, demanding reform, and upholding reverence. Plans for better crowd management, medical readiness, and infrastructure are being discussed at the highest levels, with a promise of transparency and accountability from state officials. The community is determined that such a tragedy should never repeat, but equally determined that the essence of the Jatra is preserved.
As the sun rose over Shirgao on May 3rd, the air was thick with smoke, sorrow, and the quiet persistence of faith. Grief lingers, but so does an unshakable devotion. Next year, and for years to come, thousands will likely return barefoot, unflinching, believing-walking not just through fire, but through centuries of story, spirit, and sacrifice. The ritual endures, not because fear is absent, but because faith and identity burn brighter.
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