On a weekday morning, the doors of the Kwan Kung Temple on Dockyard Road in Mumbai stand open, but the space inside remains quiet. The narrow lane leading to it is lined with residential buildings, while across the road, the godowns and industrial compounds of Mazagon Dock hum steadily through the day. Tucked into this corner of Mazgaon, Mumbai’s only Chinese temple rises a few steps above street level, largely unnoticed by the city around it.
Inside, incense holders sit untouched, dust settles lightly on hanging red lanterns, and the upper shrine remains closed. The temple is open, but unattended. There is no priest, no guide, and no one assigned to conduct rituals or explain the deities housed inside. Regular visitors say this absence has been felt ever since the death of Albert Tham, a long-time member of the Tham family who managed the temple for decades, in November last year.
The Mazgaon temple houses two shrines serving distinct spiritual roles within the Chinese community. The ground floor is dedicated to Guan Yin, a female deity associated with mercy, compassion and wisdom. Upstairs is the shrine of Kwan Kung, the warrior figure symbolising loyalty, righteousness and protection. Devotees traditionally seek Kwan Kung’s guidance to remove obstacles and make important decisions, with rituals including offerings, drawing fortune sticks, and burning paper money—practices linked to ancestral remembrance and spiritual counsel.
For years, Albert Tham provided continuity to these rituals. He would sit inside the temple through the day, instructing worshippers on prayer offerings, explaining the symbolism of the gods, and conducting fortune readings using bamboo sticks drawn after prayer. His presence gave context to the space. Since his passing, nobody has taken his place.
Incense sticks wrapped in paper money offerings, which are burned by devotees during the ritual as a symbolic offering seeking guidance, prosperity and blessings. (Express Photo by Amit Chakravarty)
“I open the temple every day and clean it,” said Jaya Hitendra Parmar, who now looks after the premises during the week. Her husband, Jitu Bhai, earlier assisted Albert Tham with maintenance and temple duties. “After my husband passed away, I began taking care of it full-time,” she said. On weekdays, she helps visitors with whatever little she knows about offering prayers, but there is no designated ritual guide.
With the Chinese New Year approaching on February 17, the temple has been freshly repainted, carpets replaced and lion costumes brought in for the annual lion dance. Activity peaks during the festival. On Saturdays and Sundays, Wing Tung Tham, a carpenter from Tardeo and part of the Tham family, visits with his family to oversee matters.
“The footfall is much higher on weekends,” he said. “After Albert’s death, his absence was deeply felt. Now, many people visit after seeing the temple on social media, but during the week, there is usually no one to explain its history.”
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According to Wing Tung Tham, members of the Chinese and Indo-Chinese community largely gather only around the Chinese New Year. The temple is maintained through small funds and donations from visitors.
When a port drew Cantonese migrants
Mumbai’s connection with China predates the modern city, strengthening after the city emerged as a major British port. From the 19th century, largely Cantonese migrants settled here, drawn by dock work and small trades. Distinct Chinese neighbourhoods developed in areas such as Sukhlaji Street near Kamathipura, Agripada, and the Dockyard Road–Mazgaon belt, supporting restaurants, shoemaking units, carpentry workshops, dentistry practices and beauty businesses.
The main shrine inside the Chinese temple dedicated to Kwan Kung, the Chinese god of war, justice and wealth, adorned with red-and-gold altars, lanterns and ritual offerings. (Express Photo by Amit Chakravarty)
Explaining the evolution of the Mazgaon settlement, Bharat Gothoskar, founder of the Khaki Heritage Foundation, said the area functioned as a working neighbourhood closely tied to port activity. “Chinese residents lived near the docks and godowns where they worked. There were also community spaces, including temples, schools and newspapers in other parts of the city,” he said.
Gothoskar added that the 1962 Indo-China war marked a turning point. “Chinese Indians were suddenly treated with suspicion. Several families were sent to camps or chose to migrate abroad,” he shared. Over time, the community dispersed, even though structures like the Kwan Kung Temple remain.
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Today, many visitors are not from the Chinese community. According to those associated with the temple, a growing number arrive after catching a glimpse of the temple on social media, drawn by curiosity and its unique place in Mumbai’s cultural landscape.
Pooja Keswani, who grew up in Malaysia, discovered the temple through Instagram. “The aesthetics took me back to my Malaysian roots,” she said, adding, “Walking inside reminded me of the temples I grew up around.”
Outside festival periods, the temple returns to quiet. It stands in a neighbourhood that no longer resembles the one it once served, a physical reminder of a Chinese presence that once shaped this part of Mumbai.
Incense sticks wrapped in paper money offerings, which are burned by devotees during the ritual as a symbolic offering seeking guidance, prosperity and blessings. (Express Photo by Amit Chakravarty)
The main shrine inside the Chinese temple dedicated to Kwan Kung, the Chinese god of war, justice and wealth, adorned with red-and-gold altars, lanterns and ritual offerings. (Express Photo by Amit Chakravarty)