As Goa heads towards the 2027 Assembly elections, the Alemao family appears poised for another political battle readiness. With multiple family members eyeing Congress tickets, the question is whether this is about serving Goa or preserving a political dynasty.
With the 2027 Goa Assembly elections on the horizon, some of the state's career politicians appear to have suddenly rediscovered their love for Goa and Goans. Among them is the Alemao family of Varca, synonymous with family politics and political realignments.
For decades, Churchill Alemao and his brother Joaquim enjoyed electoral success and ministerial power. In 2012, they sought to extend their political legacy by introducing the next generation. Churchill's daughter Valanka and Joaquim's son Yuri joined the electoral fray, alongside other family members, with four Alemaos contesting from Benaulim, Navelim, Cuncolim and Sanguem. The voters rejected all four, delivering a decisive setback to the family's political ambitions.
Fifteen years later, the family appears ready for another round.
Churchill, his daughter Valanka, current Leader of the Opposition Yuri Alemao and nephew Warren Alemao are reportedly exploring electoral prospects for 2027. Apparently, in the Alemao household, politics is not just a profession; it is a family tradition.
Churchill Alemao: A party hopper's political journey
Churchill Alemao has often maintained that political parties do not matter to him and that he is essentially the people's candidate. His political journey, however, tells a story of remarkable political mobility.
He began his electoral career as a Congress candidate in 1989 but split from the party within months to form the Progressive Democratic Front government in 1990. In 1994, he won as a UGDP candidate and, in 1996, defeated the Congress candidate in the Lok Sabha elections.
In 1999, Churchill made a Congress comeback, winning Benaulim. His reign ended with a defeat in 2002, but he returned in 2007 with his own outfit, the Save Goa Front, after accusing the Congress of being communal and corrupt. Following an unsuccessful attempt to topple the Congress-led government in 2008, his party merged with the Congress, earning him a cabinet berth.
The political carousel continued. He lost Navelim as a Congress candidate in 2012, contested the 2014 Lok Sabha elections on a Trinamool Congress ticket and lost again. In 2017, he won Benaulim as the lone NCP MLA and extended support to the BJP-led government. In 2022, he returned to the TMC, only to lose Benaulim.
Now, Churchill is reportedly keen to return to the Congress, seeking a ticket from Benaulim for himself and Navelim for his daughter. While maintaining close relationship with the BJP.
For someone who claims that the party does not matter, Churchill has certainly accumulated an impressive collection of party affiliations.
Valanka and Warren: Family ambitions, competing tickets
Valanka Alemao has contested twice and lost on both occasions. She lost Benaulim as a Congress candidate in 2012 and Navelim as a TMC candidate in 2022. Yet, for 2027, she is reportedly eyeing the Congress ticket from Navelim once again.
Then comes Warren Alemao, Churchill's nephew, who is also reportedly seeking a Congress ticket from Benaulim. This presents an intriguing situation, with uncle and nephew potentially competing for the same constituency under the same party banner.
There was a time when Warren was Churhill’s main manoeuvrer to mobilise votes irrespective of the tactics he adopted.
Meanwhile, Valanka and Warren have become increasingly visible as the next elections approach. Their renewed political activity raises a pertinent question: where were these expressions of political commitment during the intervening years?
Electoral politics is a democratic right, but voters and party workers are equally entitled to expect sustained public engagement rather than election-season enthusiasm.
Yuri Alemao: A different political profile
Yuri Alemao, the current Leader of the Opposition and Joaquim's son, has established a distinct legislative profile. His articulate interventions and vocal performance in the Assembly deserve acknowledgement.
However, his political journey has also involved moving from the Congress to the Goa Forward Party and subsequently returning to the Congress.
His legislative performance and political realignments are separate matters, but both invite scrutiny. The larger question is whether the Congress can nurture a strong grassroots leadership or will continue to accommodate established political families.
Thursday, 1 October 2026
Congress today, another party tomorrow? The Alemao Political Carousel – By Nisser Dias
Congress: A political home or a convenient platform?
The reported ambitions of Churchill, Valanka and Warren raise questions about the Congress's candidate-selection process. If all three seek tickets, the party will have to balance family ambitions, competing claims and the aspirations of its grassroots workers.
Churchill's history of party switches and his support for a BJP-led government in 2017 are matters of public record. His reported proximity to Chief Minister Pramod Sawant has also prompted political speculation, to the extent they are seen acting as BJP agents. The Congress leadership must assess candidates on their political records, commitment to the party, grassroots engagement and ability to represent their constituencies, rather than on family influence alone.
Will the Alemaos remain committed to the Congress if denied their preferred tickets, or will another political realignment follow? That remains an open question, not an established outcome.
2027: Goa deserves answers
The Alemaos have every democratic right to contest elections, just as the Congress has the right to decide whom it fields. But family legacy cannot become a substitute for political accountability, nor should party workers be reduced to spectators while established political families negotiate electoral opportunities.
Party flags may change, political loyalties may shift, but the family name appears to remain a constant.
As Goa prepares for 2027, voters deserve clarity on what these aspiring candidates stand for, what they have delivered and how consistently they have upheld their political commitments.
After all, is politics about serving the people, or has public service become a convenient vehicle for sustaining family ambitions?
Wednesday, 16 September 2026
Goa First? Please. We’ve heard this story before. -- By Nisser Dias
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Friday, 11 September 2026
A President’s Colour, and a Question for Goa Police -- By Nisser Dias
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.
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?
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.
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.
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?
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.
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