Goa First? Please. We’ve heard this story before. -- By Nisser Dias

Is it Holy or unholy alliance ?

By now, Goans should know better than to judge a political alliance by its name.

In Goa, add the word Goa to anything and suddenly it acquires a patriotic fragrance.

So now we have “Goa First.”

How reassuring.

The name suggests that Goa will finally come before party, personality, ambition and political convenience.

But before the fireworks begin, there is one small problem:

Goans have heard this story before.

The AAP–Goa Forward alliance, formally announced for the 2027 Assembly election, is being presented as a new political alternative.

Perhaps it is.

But sitting at the centre of this experiment is Vijai Sardesai — and his political history offers Goa a useful reminder of the difference between political rhetoric and political arithmetic.

The art of political reinvention

Remember 2017?

Goa Forward went into that election hammering the BJP. Then the results arrived.

Congress emerged as the single largest party with 17 seats; the BJP had 13.

Goa Forward's three MLAs suddenly became crucial to government formation.

And political arithmetic performed its familiar magic.

Sardesai backed the BJP-led government and eventually became a minister.

Two power freaks. Marriage of Convenience.

He defended the decision on grounds of stability and advancing his party's agenda. He also acknowledged that it had damaged his reputation.

Politicians are entitled to change their minds.

Voters are entitled to remember.

And that is precisely why “Goa First” deserves scrutiny.

Goa has already seen what happens when political principles collide with the arithmetic of power.

The slogan changes. The mathematics doesn't.

Yesterday, Delhi can be the problem.

Tomorrow, Delhi can become the solution.

Yesterday, a national party can be declared unacceptable.

Tomorrow, its leaders can become coalition partners.

Then, as the next election approaches, everyone rediscovers Goem, Goemkar, Goemkarponn.

Perhaps the problem isn't that politicians change alliances.

Perhaps it is that they expect voters to develop amnesia every five years.

Power is the real test

This is bigger than Sardesai.

Political power gives leaders influence, authority and the ability to shape government. But it also tests restraint.

Opposition is easy compared with government.

It is easy to thunder against those in power. It is harder to listen when the criticism is directed at you.

It is harder still to remember that a ministerial chair is not a personal throne.

Sardesai's critics have described his style as confrontational; his supporters would call it assertive.

Let voters decide.

The larger principle is simple:

No politician becomes more important than the institution he temporarily occupies.

Goa has seen what kingmakers can do

Goa's small Assembly means a handful of MLAs can determine who forms a government.

In 2017, Goa Forward's three seats became pivotal.

That episode should not be dismissed as ancient history.

It raises a question every voter should ask:

What will a small party do when it holds the balance of power?

Strengthen institutions?

Protect long-term interests?

Or maximise bargaining power and political relevance?

Those are very different things.

And

printing “Goa First” on a banner doesn't answer the question.

Why should Goans believe this time is different?

There is nothing wrong with AAP and GFP joining hands. There is nothing wrong with challenging the BJP and Congress.

Political competition is healthy.

But opposing existing parties is not, by itself, a qualification to govern.

The new alliance must answer a much harder question:

What happens after the votes are counted?

What happens if the numbers don't add up?

What happens if another party offers support?

What happens if a handful of MLAs become kingmakers?

What happens when personal ambition collides with coalition discipline?

What happens when political convenience clashes with the interests of Goa?

That is when we will discover whether Goa really comes first.

Because it is easy to put Goa first in a campaign speech.

It is much harder when power is sitting on the table.

Don't confuse political theatre with transformation

Goa has seen this movie before.

Different speeches.

Different faces.

Different slogans.

Different alliances.

Same plot.

First comes the grand declaration.

Then the promise.

Then the election.

Then the arithmetic.

And finally, principles acquire a remarkably flexible interpretation.

That is why “Goa First” should not be accepted at face value.

It should be interrogated.

Aggressively.

Especially by voters who have watched political certainties evaporate the moment ministerial chairs become available.

The inconvenient question

So call it “Goa First.”

Put it on posters.

Print it on caps.

Repeat it at rallies.

But Goans should ask the question that matters:

When the choice is between Goa's interest and a politician's interest, which one actually comes first?

Goa has had enough of politicians who discover the state just before an election.

It needs leaders who remember Goa after the election.

Because names don't govern.

People do.

And people must ultimately be judged by what they do with power — not by what they call themselves while asking for it.

A President’s Colour, and a Question for Goa Police -- By Nisser Dias

Malcolm Pereira

On September 7, 2026, Union Home Minister Amit Shah presented the President’s Colour to the Goa Police, honouring eight decades of service by the force, including its role in coastal security and protecting Goa’s vital tourism economy.

The President’s Colour is among the highest honours bestowed upon a police force. It represents service, discipline, professionalism, courage and commitment to duty.

Which is precisely why what happened barely a day later at Chinchinim raises some uncomfortable questions.

The assault on Chinchinim sarpanch Gerson Gomes, allegedly by villager Malcolm Pereira, is undoubtedly condemnable. No individual has the right to take the law into his own hands. An assault on an elected representative deserves the full attention of the law.

But the subsequent handling of the case by the Cuncolim police has left many asking whether it was befitting of a force that had just received the President’s Colour.

The assault reportedly took place in the afternoon, yet the FIR was registered only around midnight. The explanation was that the police had not received a complaint from the victim, who was hospitalised, or from the panchayat secretary, panch members or staff.

But does the police’s responsibility to act depend entirely on someone walking into the station with a complaint? The police have the power to take cognisance of a cognizable offence and initiate proceedings. Given the seriousness of the incident and the video evidence reportedly circulating, the delay was bound to raise questions.

Then came the hospital episode.

As demands for Pereira’s arrest grew, he reportedly admitted himself to a private hospital. Police personnel were posted there to detain him upon discharge. Yet, according to reports, he managed to escape under their watch.

That raises a very simple question: How does an accused person, whom police are reportedly waiting to detain, simply disappear?

Who was responsible for the deployment? Were the officers questioned? Was there a procedural lapse? Were the hospital authorities asked to explain how the accused was discharged? And, most importantly, has anyone been held accountable?

These are not merely political questions. They are questions of basic policing.

An honour carries responsibility

The President’s Colour is awarded to the force as an institution. It is therefore unfair to judge thousands of dedicated police personnel by the alleged failures of one station or a handful of officers.

But institutional recognition also brings institutional accountability.
Had this incident occurred at another time, it might have been dismissed as an unfortunate police lapse. Coming just a day after the Goa Police received one of the country's highest honours, the contrast is difficult to ignore.

Chinchinim sarpanch

Gerson Gomes

An award is not simply a ceremonial flag to be displayed. It represents a standard the force is expected to uphold.

If there was a lapse, the police leadership must identify it. If personnel failed in their duty, action must follow. And if there was no failure, the public deserves to know how the accused managed to evade the police.

Questions have also been raised about possible political influence. That is a serious allegation and should not be treated as fact without evidence. But when delays and apparent procedural failures occur in a politically sensitive case, suspicion is inevitable. Transparency is the only credible answer.

The courts will decide the legal fate of the accused. He is entitled to due process and must be presumed innocent until proven guilty.

But the police must still answer for their own conduct.

Eventually, public attention will fade. The hearings will continue, the headlines will disappear and life will return to normal.

But one question may linger:

Did the Goa Police, in their handling of the Chinchinim assault, live up to the standards symbolised by the President’s Colour?

Goa Police receiving President's Colour Award

The President’s Colour is an honour.

The President’s Colour should not merely be something displayed on ceremonial occasions.

It should represent a standard.

A standard of discipline.

A standard of integrity.

A standard of courage.

A standard of accountability.

Living up to it is a responsibility.

You called the youth termites.. The real termites are busy hollowing out democracy – By Nisser Dias

Narendra Sawaikar

Words matter, especially when they come from those occupying positions of political responsibility. That is why the alleged social media remark attributed to Goa BJP Vice President Narendra Sawaikar—"It's not just cockroaches: they are termites!"—has drawn widespread criticism. If the remark was indeed aimed at the hundreds of youth who gathered at Azad Maidan in Panjim in solidarity with students protesting in Delhi, it was not merely inappropriate; it was insulting, dismissive, and unbecoming of a public leader.

These young people were not protesting for personal gain. They had assembled to express solidarity with students demanding accountability over the NEET examination paper leak controversy and calling for the resignation of Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan. Whether one agrees with their protests or not, they were exercising a democratic right guaranteed by the Constitution. They were protesting to safeguard their future which is being destroyed by the BJP. Branding such citizens as "termites" is a disturbing attempt to belittle legitimate dissent instead of engaging with it.

As an advocate, Sawaikar understands that democracy thrives on debate, criticism, and protest. The concerns raised by the youth are neither imaginary nor frivolous. Repeated allegations of examination paper leaks have shaken public confidence, leaving lakhs of students and their families anxious about the integrity of India's education system. When young people demand accountability, they deserve answers—not insults.

If anyone should be concerned about the metaphor of termites, it is the BJP itself. After all, termites do not destroy a structure overnight. They weaken it from within, silently eating away at its foundations until the damage becomes impossible to ignore. That analogy fits BJP far better when applied to institutions that have steadily lost public trust than to young Indians raising their voices.

Critics of the BJP argue that over the years, key democratic institutions have been weakened, public confidence has eroded, and political polarization has deepened. They

BJP govt hits back at protestors

point to controversies surrounding demonetisation, repeated examination paper leaks, the perceived misuse of investigative agencies, and increasing questions about institutional independence, not forgetting the embezzlement of Lord Ram temple funds. Whether one agrees with every criticism or not, these are serious public issues that deserve discussion — not ridicule.

Calling the youth "termites" turns reality on its head. The youth are not consuming the nation's foundations; they are demanding that those foundations be repaired. They are asking for transparent examinations, accountable governance, and institutions they can trust. They are trying to preserve the future, not destroy it.

If the termite metaphor is to be used at all, many would argue it is the conduct of the BJP's political machinery that invites such comparison. According to its critics, it is not protesting students but political actors who weaken institutions for partisan advantage who resemble termites—eroding public faith from within. The allegation is that the real damage comes from those who allow corruption, shield failures, and dismiss legitimate public anger instead of addressing it.

Goa itself has not been immune to these concerns. Environmental degradation, pressure on natural resources, concerns over governance, and allegations about declining public accountability have become recurring themes in public discourse. Many Goans fear that unchecked political power, rather than citizen activism, poses the greater threat to the state's future.

Perhaps what unsettles some political leaders is not the protest itself but what it represents. The gathering of youth at Azad Maidan was more than a demonstration over one examination controversy. It reflected growing frustration among a generation that feels its future is being compromised by administrative failures and political indifference. Dismissing that frustration with insults only widens the disconnect.

Sawaikar's social post creates new outfit

History has repeatedly shown that societies progress because young people question authority, challenge injustice, and demand reform. Every generation that enjoys democratic freedoms today owes a debt to young citizens who refused to remain silent. To label today's youth as "termites" is therefore not only unfair—it is an insult to the democratic spirit itself.

The real question is not whether the youth are termites. They are not. The question is whether those who undermine institutions, erode public trust, and weaken democratic accountability are doing precisely what termites do—eating away at the nation's foundations from within.

If the BJP wishes to answer its critics, it should do so through transparency, accountability, and better governance—not by demeaning the very young citizens whose confidence it seeks to win. India's youth deserve respect, not ridicule. And in a democracy, those who speak truth to power should never be treated as pests.