Perched atop a stone arch that marks the entrance into Goa Velha (Old Goa), an unremarkable statue is hard to make out at first. I walked under it multiple times without taking a good look, and assumed it was some sort of Catholic religious imagery. Portugal’s empire in the East formerly claimed Goa Velha as its capital, and the city’s residents numbered upwards of 150,000 at its peak. Travelers compared its grandeur to that of London and Rome.

When we walked back under the Viceroys’ Arch to begin a walking tour of Old Goa, our tour guide, Vimala, called our attention to the statue on top.

“Does anyone know what this represents?” she asked.

We craned our necks and squinted our eyes to try and make out the statue’s meaning, to no avail. As it turned out, the woman on top of the arch is St. Catherine of Alexandria, who tradition states was an aristocratic teenager martyred around 300 CE. After discovering a trove of documents related to Christianity, she is said to have converted, much to the dismay of her parents. Vimala explained that a debate was arranged between Catherine and one hundred learned men of the land — all of whom she easily dispatched, and successfully converted to Christianity… in addition to the emperor himself.

It is a compelling story that has inspired millenia of tradition, but perhaps one that does not seem entirely related to Old Goa. However, when the Portuguese arrived to western India in the early sixteenth century, they faced fierce opposition in their attempt to lay claim to the land. In 1510, Portuguese general Afonso de Albuquerque annexed Old Goa on what happened to be the feast day of St. Catherine. She was credited with the victory, and the statue atop the Viceroys’ Arch actually depicts her positioned over the dead body of a Muslim opponent.

Certainly an interesting start to Old Goa. Throughout the afternoon, we visited various sites and cathedrals, including the Cathedral of Bom Jesus, in which St. Francis Xavier’s remains are housed. A few years ago, before coming to Georgetown, I would have had no idea who Francis Xavier was, much less where to find his mortal remains.

Reading through a book called “Goa Travels” that I picked up a few days ago, a vivid description of a scene from Francis Xavier’s funeral is timeless and compelling. The author describes crowds weeping and shoving as they attempt to lay their eyes on his body, as Jesuit fathers usher it indoors and assure the crowd they will have their chance. Old Goa is described in its golden age — a city of color, noise, and expanse, the crown jewel of Portugal’s aspiring empire in Asia.

Wandering through Old Goa these days, which is essentially an assorted array of historical sites, it is curious to imagine the city in its prime.