The bodily lifting of St. Andre MLA Viresh Borkar from a government office while he was demanding the repeal of amendments introduced by Town and Country Planning Minister Vishwajit Rane is not merely an isolated episode. It is a chilling image — one that speaks volumes about the state of democratic functioning in Goa today.
An elected representative, raising concerns on behalf of his constituents about zoning changes that could permanently alter the character of their villages, was not debated with, reasoned with, or politically countered. He was physically removed.
That image — of a sitting MLA being bodily lifted — is not just about one man. It is about the shrinking space for dissent.
A troubling Déjà Vu
For many Goans, this moment triggers an uncomfortable memory from 2004, when the late Manohar Parrikar, then Chief Minister, faced a no-confidence motion. In a move that remains controversial, police personnel were deployed as marshals inside the Assembly, and Velim MLA Filipe Neri Rodrigues was physically lifted out of the House.
The “Temple of Democracy” witnessed force where persuasion should have prevailed.
Two decades later, the visuals feel eerily similar. And again by the BJP government
Power First, Accountability Later?
Under the non-Goan Chief Minister of Goa Pramod Sawant, the perception that power must be preserved at all costs has only deepened. Whether it is controversial land-use decisions, large-scale development projects, or abrupt policy shifts, critics argue that consultation has been replaced by unilateralism.
The resistance in Chimbel over the proposed “Unity Mall” showed that public pushback can halt even government-backed initiatives. Villagers forced a rethink. It was a reminder that democratic authority ultimately flows upward from the people — not downward from ministerial offices.
The TCP amendments: Development or Discretion?
At the heart of the current storm are Sections 17(2) and 39A of the Town and Country Planning framework.
Section 39A empowers the Chief Town Planner to alter regional and development plans, including zoning changes. Section 17(2) allows land conversion under specified authority.
Critics argue that these provisions, when exercised without robust safeguards, public consultation, or transparency, risk turning long-term regional planning into short-term administrative discretion.
When elected representatives like Viresh Borkar question sweeping zoning changes — especially those perceived to threaten village identity, ecology, and land-use balance — the appropriate response in a democracy is debate, data, and justification.
Not force.
A Pattern of Retreat Under Pressure?
Minister Vishwajit Rane has previously faced strong public resistance — notably during the 2019 IIT proposal at Shel-Melauli, where large tracts of land acquisition triggered protests. The plan was eventually shelved after sustained public opposition.
Similarly, the draft zoning plan in Pernem faced backlash over concerns that substantial green cover would give way to concrete expansion. Once again, public resistance forced reconsideration.
Each time, public mobilisation altered the course of policy, Rane had to hide. Coward that he is.
This raises an uncomfortable question: Are controversial decisions being advanced without adequate groundwork, only to be withdrawn when resistance becomes politically inconvenient?
The Health Portfolio Incident
In June 2025, another controversy erupted when Rane, who also holds the Health portfolio, publicly demanded action against Dr. Rudresh Kuttikar, Chief Medical Officer of a casualty block. Video clips circulated widely, showing sharp and abusive language.
For many observers, the issue was not merely administrative discipline — it was tone, process, and optics. Public governance cannot resemble a spectacle. Institutions demand procedure, not performance.
The Viresh Borkar fiasco: A turning point?
The manhandling of Viresh Borkar may prove to be a political miscalculation.
He was not staging a personal protest. He stood with constituents demanding that zoning changes in Siridao be scrapped due to concerns about preserving village character and preventing over-development.
The physical removal of an elected representative has inadvertently unified opposition voices and mobilised public opinion across constituencies. What might have been a policy disagreement has now become a symbol of democratic friction.
When a government appears intolerant of dissent — especially from within legislative ranks — it risks strengthening the very resistance it seeks to suppress.
Democracy Is Not a Show of Strength
The true test of leadership is not how firmly one can hold office, but how responsibly one exercises power.
Development cannot be sustained if it is perceived as opaque. Planning cannot endure if it sidelines participation. Authority cannot command respect if it relies on physical force against elected representatives.
The image of Viresh Borkar being bodily lifted will linger — not because of partisan politics, but because it captures something deeper: the uneasy tension between governance and accountability in Goa today.
If the government believes its planning decisions are sound, let them withstand scrutiny in open forums. Let them be debated transparently. Let data speak louder than force.
Democracy does not collapse in a single dramatic moment. It erodes gradually — whenever dissent is removed instead of addressed.
And Goa deserves better than that.
Saturday, 21 February 2026
Saturday, 13 December 2025
31 laptops and a whole lot of embarrassment – By Nisser Dias
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.
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.
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.
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