I walked into the Museum of Goa a few days ago with my five-year-old daughter, holding my hand. She had no idea what a museum was, but I carried the usual assumptions: quiet corridors, stern reminders, and an unspoken expectation to behave. Instead, the Museum of Goa opened its doors to us like a home. No hushed reverence. No rigid rules. Just colour, warmth, and a sense that children weren’t merely allowed here, they were welcome.

Before I could even register the first exhibit, my daughter had already darted toward a towering installation of hanging chillies, her curiosity leading the way, as it always does.

We were still taking in the hanging chillies when Sharada Kerkar( Director of the Museum of Goa) appeared beside us, warm, welcoming, and instantly engaging my daughter. Sensing how curious she was, Sharada led us straight to the towering Narkasur installation.

She explained that Narkasur is a demon effigy unique to Goa, created by local communities every year and burned on the eve of Diwali. This one rose more than 20 feet high, its tongue and snake springing to life with a gentle tug,  a detail that thrilled my daughter immediately.

Sharada did something few adults manage instinctively: she bent down to my daughter’s height, introduced herself directly to her, and waited patiently for a response. It set the tone for the rest of the afternoon. She spoke to my daughter not as a visitor who needed supervision, but as someone capable of engaging in art.

Sharada’s storytelling pulls a child in without compromising the depth an adult hears. It’s rare to see art explained to a five-year-old with such attention, patience, and respect. 

The three of us walked into the first gallery like an odd little trio: the curator, the mother/journalist, and a curious five-year-old who kept asking questions faster than either of us could answer. Sharada explained each piece with the kind of simplicity that doesn’t patronise. 

She paused often, letting my daughter make meaning on her own.

Four shows. Ninety-plus artists. Over a hundred artworks. But none of those numbers captured what the space felt like. It held a kind of colourful, united hum, a chorus of histories, rituals, and communities sitting side by side confidently.

When we walked out into the open courtyard, the first thing we saw was a long, stunning, towering wall that stopped us in our tracks. From a distance, it looked like some kind of patterned installation, almost like carved panels. It took a minute to........

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