Chief Minister Pramod Sawant seems to have achieved the impossible: lowering the dignity of his office to never-before-seen subterranean levels by first accepting — and now sheepishly returning — 31 laptops gifted by an alleged scamster. Yes, you read that right. Thirty-one. Not one. Not two. A whole classroom set.
On December 7, Vaibhav Thakar was arrested by LT Marg police in Maharashtra for allegedly cheating a jeweller of ₹2.8 crore while impersonating an officer from the Maharashtra Chief Minister’s Office. A minor detail: he had already been arrested by the Directorate of Revenue Intelligence earlier in a tidy little ₹200-crore gold trading case. A resume like that could only mean one thing — naturally, he must meet the Goa Chief Minister.
Which he did. In April. And gifted 31 laptops to Goa Police. Because, of course, nothing screams “trustworthy citizen” like an impressive history of arrests.
Now, after his December arrest, Goa Police HQ has instructed all stations to return those laptops. So let’s do the math: does that make the Chief Minister the primary recipient of this “generosity” and the police the secondary recipients of… well, whatever this was supposed to be?
It is astonishing — and frankly embarrassing — that the Chief Minister of a State can meet individuals without even the most basic background check from his office. And even worse, accept gifts to be distributed across government departments as if he were running a festive lucky draw.
Speaking of the laptops: did the CM’s office bother to verify how they were purchased? Any receipts? Any confirmation they weren’t procured through, say…the very activities Thakar has been alleged to engage in?
And let’s not forget the police department — under the CM’s control — now ordering the return of these laptops. This is the administrative equivalent of the police proudly “recovering” stolen goods after the thieves have already sold them at a discount.
Unfortunately, this is hardly the first time the Goa government — especially the CMO — has been taken for a royal ride. Flashback to 2020: the bidder chosen by the government to build the Dona Paula Convention Centre — DCR Solar — failed to cough up the ₹16.20-crore performance guarantee. When the High Court insisted, the bidder produced one. It was fake. Tailor-made tenders? Who would’ve guessed.
So should we believe the Chief Minister is so astonishingly gullible that his office and police force lack even the authority to verify who he meets? Or is he following instructions from the much-celebrated “double-engine sarkar” to welcome all visitors, no questions asked — except, of course, when the visitors are Goans or activists with real grievances? Those folks rarely get appointments.
Back to the laptops: what happens now? Will they gather dust in some evidence room? Will an FIR be filed to investigate how they were procured? Will the police run forensic tests to ensure these devices aren’t loaded with spyware or surveillance tools?
Whatever the outcome, one thing is painfully clear: Chief Minister Pramod Sawant has managed to drag the dignity of his office to a spectacular low, courtesy of what can only be described as shockingly casual governance.
Saturday, 13 December 2025
Sunday, 7 December 2025
25 Dead in Arpora: this wasn’t an accident — It was administrative murder – By Nisser Dias
Goa woke up to ash, smoke, sirens, and 25 dead bodies — the largest loss of civilian lives in a single incident in the state’s history. The blaze at the Birch by Romeo Lane nightclub in Arpora has torn open a wound that Goans say was festering for years: a government that looked the other way while illegalities flourished in broad daylight.
This wasn’t “misfortune.” This wasn’t “an accident.” For thousands of furious Goans, this was criminal governance failure — a tragedy born out of negligence, corruption, and political protection.
And our anger is directed straight at the top. This is not an accident. This is murder by negligence. And the government must answer.
Goans are openly accusing the administration of Chief Minister Pramod Sawant of complicity through inaction. Many citizens and opposition voices describe the deaths not as a freak incident but as a direct result of regulatory collapse under the BJP-led government.
The nightclub was allegedly operating illegally, even after the local panchayat had issued a demolition notice. Yet the venue ran night after night — packed, profitable, protected.
Director of Panchayats reportedly stayed the demolition order. Goans want answers: Who pressured the official to stay the order? Who allowed an illegal building to stay open long enough for 25 people to die in it? Who ensured the club still got electricity, water, excise licenses, food permits, tourism permissions, and fire-clearances?
Every department involved now stands exposed — and so do the ministers heading them. Goans demand resignations — but the silence from ministers is deafening
Public outrage is at a boiling point. Tourism Minister Rohan Khaunte, Town and Country Planning Minister Vishwajit Rane, the Panchayats Minister Mauvin Godhino and Calangute MLA Michael Lobo must accept responsibility for a system that failed spectacularly.
Not a single resignation. Not a single minister accepting accountability. Instead, Prime Minister Modi announced compensation. Rs.2 lakh for families of the deceased and Rs. 50,000 for the injured
For grieving Goan this offer is like a sticking plaster over a gangrenous wound — a symbolic gesture seen as an attempt to shield political allies and blunt public anger. We needed accountability. Not a cheque.
In 2021, after the horrific gang rape of two minor girls in Benaulim, Chief Minister Sawant had controversially blamed the victims and their parents for being outside late at night. Now, with 25 lives lost inside a nightclub that was allegedly operating illegally, Whom will he blame this time? The victims again? The staff who died trapped in the basement? The tourists who trusted the government to enforce safety laws?
The Chief Minister has failed the state. The cabinet has failed the state. This government survives on corruption and excuses. Why was an illegal nightclub functioning at all? Goans are now openly questioning how Birch by Romeo Lane was allowed to operate without proper fire safety, function despite demolition orders, receive power and water connections, serve alcohol, run a full restaurant, get tourism licenses and bypass environmental and construction regulations.
This is not the result of one failure but allegedly a chain of corruption involving multiple ministries and officials. And Goans know it.
From the Rama Kankonkar assault case to the cash-for-jobs scam, Goans have seen ministers named, investigations opened — and then quietly closed with clean chits.
We now fear the same fate for the nightclub case: Will the investigation climb to the top, or end at the bottom with scapegoats? Will ministers be questioned, or protected? Will justice finally come to Goa, or will the parrots in cages sing the same old tune?”
The doubts are enormous — and justified by history. The demand is simple: the entire cabinet must go. For thousands of Goans, there is only one logical outcome: A full cabinet resignation. Not out of moral conscience, as the ministers have none.
But because 25 Goans and tourists died in one night, inside a building that shouldn’t have been standing, operating, or serving a single drink. The tragedy at Birch has punctured the last vestige of tolerance among Goans toward corruption.
For years, the state watched illegal constructions rise, shady permissions granted, and politicians enrich themselves while shouting “development.” Now, with 25 funerals, the anger is volcanic. We have become numb to corruption. But now, the cost was too high. Too human. Too irreversible.”
The government led by Pramod Sawant has failed in governance, failed in safety, failed in accountability, failed its own people.
And with 25 dead in one night, this failure is no longer administrative, It is moral, it is systemic and it is unforgivable.
This wasn’t “misfortune.” This wasn’t “an accident.” For thousands of furious Goans, this was criminal governance failure — a tragedy born out of negligence, corruption, and political protection.
And our anger is directed straight at the top. This is not an accident. This is murder by negligence. And the government must answer.
Goans are openly accusing the administration of Chief Minister Pramod Sawant of complicity through inaction. Many citizens and opposition voices describe the deaths not as a freak incident but as a direct result of regulatory collapse under the BJP-led government.
The nightclub was allegedly operating illegally, even after the local panchayat had issued a demolition notice. Yet the venue ran night after night — packed, profitable, protected.
Director of Panchayats reportedly stayed the demolition order. Goans want answers: Who pressured the official to stay the order? Who allowed an illegal building to stay open long enough for 25 people to die in it? Who ensured the club still got electricity, water, excise licenses, food permits, tourism permissions, and fire-clearances?
Every department involved now stands exposed — and so do the ministers heading them. Goans demand resignations — but the silence from ministers is deafening
Public outrage is at a boiling point. Tourism Minister Rohan Khaunte, Town and Country Planning Minister Vishwajit Rane, the Panchayats Minister Mauvin Godhino and Calangute MLA Michael Lobo must accept responsibility for a system that failed spectacularly.
Not a single resignation. Not a single minister accepting accountability. Instead, Prime Minister Modi announced compensation. Rs.2 lakh for families of the deceased and Rs. 50,000 for the injured
For grieving Goan this offer is like a sticking plaster over a gangrenous wound — a symbolic gesture seen as an attempt to shield political allies and blunt public anger. We needed accountability. Not a cheque.
In 2021, after the horrific gang rape of two minor girls in Benaulim, Chief Minister Sawant had controversially blamed the victims and their parents for being outside late at night. Now, with 25 lives lost inside a nightclub that was allegedly operating illegally, Whom will he blame this time? The victims again? The staff who died trapped in the basement? The tourists who trusted the government to enforce safety laws?
The Chief Minister has failed the state. The cabinet has failed the state. This government survives on corruption and excuses. Why was an illegal nightclub functioning at all? Goans are now openly questioning how Birch by Romeo Lane was allowed to operate without proper fire safety, function despite demolition orders, receive power and water connections, serve alcohol, run a full restaurant, get tourism licenses and bypass environmental and construction regulations.
This is not the result of one failure but allegedly a chain of corruption involving multiple ministries and officials. And Goans know it.
From the Rama Kankonkar assault case to the cash-for-jobs scam, Goans have seen ministers named, investigations opened — and then quietly closed with clean chits.
We now fear the same fate for the nightclub case: Will the investigation climb to the top, or end at the bottom with scapegoats? Will ministers be questioned, or protected? Will justice finally come to Goa, or will the parrots in cages sing the same old tune?”
The doubts are enormous — and justified by history. The demand is simple: the entire cabinet must go. For thousands of Goans, there is only one logical outcome: A full cabinet resignation. Not out of moral conscience, as the ministers have none.
But because 25 Goans and tourists died in one night, inside a building that shouldn’t have been standing, operating, or serving a single drink. The tragedy at Birch has punctured the last vestige of tolerance among Goans toward corruption.
For years, the state watched illegal constructions rise, shady permissions granted, and politicians enrich themselves while shouting “development.” Now, with 25 funerals, the anger is volcanic. We have become numb to corruption. But now, the cost was too high. Too human. Too irreversible.”
The government led by Pramod Sawant has failed in governance, failed in safety, failed in accountability, failed its own people.
And with 25 dead in one night, this failure is no longer administrative, It is moral, it is systemic and it is unforgivable.
Wednesday, 19 November 2025
When dacoits run free and the police chase shadows -- By Nisser Dias
The dacoits have done it again—and no, the shock isn’t just that they struck Baina. The real embarrassment is that they once again made the Goa Police look like toy soldiers marching to someone else’s tune.
This year alone, Goa has witnessed a troubling pattern. April: Dacoits hit an elderly couple’s home in Dona Paula. October: Another gang looted the residence of a medical doctor in Mapusa. November: Yet another strike in Baina, Vasco.
Three major crimes. Three clean getaways. And one police force still fumbling in the dark.
But instead of answers, the top brass is busy congratulating itself for “identifying” suspects in the first two cases—followed by the stunning claim that the culprits have conveniently fled to Bangladesh. At this rate, maybe Goa should propose a diplomatic exchange programme: trade a few dacoits for the political refugee former premier of Bangladesh currently living in India. Genius, right?
It’s almost comical how creative the police become when covering up their failures.
Time for Accountability? Absolutely.
Goa’s Home Ministry deserves nothing less than a full audit—starting right from the top. The Chief Minister Pramod Sawant, the Director General of Police Alok Kumar, and his fleet of IPS officers have presided over an alarming surge in crime, a collapse of public security, and a police force that seems directionless except when it comes to protecting powerful interests.
Because when it comes to white-collar crime, suddenly the police find renewed vigour.
The cash-for-job scam: A masterclass in selective blindness
Take the cash-for-job scam. The prime accused, Pooja Naik, has named big players—Power Minister Sudin Dhavlikar, PWD Principal Chief Engineer Uttam Parsekar, and IAS officer Nikhil Dessai—as recipients of the ₹17 crore she allegedly collected from desperate job seekers.
The police response? “We need corroborative evidence.” The Chief Minister’s response? “She’s lying.”
Has everyone suddenly forgotten what an ‘Approver’ is? The law literally defines an approver as someone who confesses and agrees to testify for the prosecution. But the police aren’t interested—because the trail clearly leads towards political power.
It’s obvious where this investigation is heading: a dead end. And Pooja, right now, looks less like a mastermind and more like a pawn being cornered to protect the king and his court. The message to the other accused is loud and clear: Speak up and you’ll be next.
Frankly, the public is more inclined to believe Pooja than the institutions questioning her.
The Rama Kankonkar Case: An express charge-sheet.
The recent thousand-page charge-sheet filed in the Rama Kankonkar case. Everyone knows how this story will end: an acquittal born out of half-baked investigation.
Rama reportedly named the mastermind—but the police, once again, chose not to believe the victim. The pattern is unmistakable. The moment a trail hints at political involvement, the police clamp up, redirect, and bury the core of the case.
Adding to the suspicion, the charge-sheet was filed in a record 60 days—despite the law allowing 90 when the accused are in custody. Why the hurry? What’s the rush? The pressure to wrap things up quickly feels less like efficiency and more like facilitating bail, smoothing exits, and ensuring nothing truly incriminating survives scrutiny.
A state where crime thrives and accountability dies
Across all these incidents—dacoities, scams, and high-profile cases—the common denominator is painfully clear: a compromised, poorly led police force that appears more committed to managing political fallout than protecting Goa’s citizens.
Goa deserves leadership rooted in responsibility, not excuses. A police force driven by integrity, not convenience. And a government that understands that public trust isn’t a hereditary right—it’s earned.
Until then, Goa’s law and order machinery will remain what it has unfortunately become: a farce operating under an administration that has lost the plot.
This year alone, Goa has witnessed a troubling pattern. April: Dacoits hit an elderly couple’s home in Dona Paula. October: Another gang looted the residence of a medical doctor in Mapusa. November: Yet another strike in Baina, Vasco.
Three major crimes. Three clean getaways. And one police force still fumbling in the dark.
But instead of answers, the top brass is busy congratulating itself for “identifying” suspects in the first two cases—followed by the stunning claim that the culprits have conveniently fled to Bangladesh. At this rate, maybe Goa should propose a diplomatic exchange programme: trade a few dacoits for the political refugee former premier of Bangladesh currently living in India. Genius, right?
It’s almost comical how creative the police become when covering up their failures.
Time for Accountability? Absolutely.
Goa’s Home Ministry deserves nothing less than a full audit—starting right from the top. The Chief Minister Pramod Sawant, the Director General of Police Alok Kumar, and his fleet of IPS officers have presided over an alarming surge in crime, a collapse of public security, and a police force that seems directionless except when it comes to protecting powerful interests.
Because when it comes to white-collar crime, suddenly the police find renewed vigour.
The cash-for-job scam: A masterclass in selective blindness
Take the cash-for-job scam. The prime accused, Pooja Naik, has named big players—Power Minister Sudin Dhavlikar, PWD Principal Chief Engineer Uttam Parsekar, and IAS officer Nikhil Dessai—as recipients of the ₹17 crore she allegedly collected from desperate job seekers.
The police response? “We need corroborative evidence.” The Chief Minister’s response? “She’s lying.”
Has everyone suddenly forgotten what an ‘Approver’ is? The law literally defines an approver as someone who confesses and agrees to testify for the prosecution. But the police aren’t interested—because the trail clearly leads towards political power.
It’s obvious where this investigation is heading: a dead end. And Pooja, right now, looks less like a mastermind and more like a pawn being cornered to protect the king and his court. The message to the other accused is loud and clear: Speak up and you’ll be next.
Frankly, the public is more inclined to believe Pooja than the institutions questioning her.
The Rama Kankonkar Case: An express charge-sheet.
The recent thousand-page charge-sheet filed in the Rama Kankonkar case. Everyone knows how this story will end: an acquittal born out of half-baked investigation.
Rama reportedly named the mastermind—but the police, once again, chose not to believe the victim. The pattern is unmistakable. The moment a trail hints at political involvement, the police clamp up, redirect, and bury the core of the case.
Adding to the suspicion, the charge-sheet was filed in a record 60 days—despite the law allowing 90 when the accused are in custody. Why the hurry? What’s the rush? The pressure to wrap things up quickly feels less like efficiency and more like facilitating bail, smoothing exits, and ensuring nothing truly incriminating survives scrutiny.
A state where crime thrives and accountability dies
Across all these incidents—dacoities, scams, and high-profile cases—the common denominator is painfully clear: a compromised, poorly led police force that appears more committed to managing political fallout than protecting Goa’s citizens.
Goa deserves leadership rooted in responsibility, not excuses. A police force driven by integrity, not convenience. And a government that understands that public trust isn’t a hereditary right—it’s earned.
Until then, Goa’s law and order machinery will remain what it has unfortunately become: a farce operating under an administration that has lost the plot.
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