Panjekars have spoken. They have elected their corporators to govern their city in the Corporation of the City of Panaji. The outcome reminds us of the old adage: people eventually get the government they vote for.
Yet many Goans had hoped for something different this time.
Across the state there was a sense that Panjim — the capital city and political nerve centre of Goa — would lead the charge for change. Goans hoped Panjekars would “inhale the future by exhaling the past.” Instead, the voters chose to remain in the same rut, giving the Bharatiya Janata Party-led panel a thumping and absolute majority.
And that is what makes the result so baffling.
For the past five years, Panjekars have been shouting from their rooftops about casinos, the chaos surrounding the Smart City works, pathetic roads, lack of parking, overflowing gutters, flooding during the monsoon, and civic mismanagement that has made everyday life miserable.
The complaints were not whispers. They were loud, angry and relentless.
The situation became so dire that even judges of the Bombay High Court had to step down from their high pedestal and walk the potholed roads and broken streets of Panjim to witness firsthand the suffering of those who live and work in Goa’s capital.
Yet when Deliverance Day arrived at the ballot box, Panjekars chose the known devil over an unknown angel.
What a tragic irony.
A couple of weeks ago, I had written an article titled “Protest Today, Freebie Tomorrow — Will Anger Turn into Votes against BJP?”.
Providence, it seems, has answered that question rather bluntly.
Anger did not translate into votes against the BJP government.
Chief Minister Pramod Sawant has already interpreted the verdict in his own way. According to him, the CCP victory is merely a “trailer for the 2027 Assembly elections.” He claims the result reflects people’s trust in his party and its governance.
But many Goans see a very different reality.
This government, critics argue, has presided over the steady erosion of Goa — destroying hills, fields, rivers, ponds and mangroves. Along with them disappear fragments of our culture, traditions, ecology and the Goan way of life.
The expectation was simple: Panjim would show courage. Panjekars would lead the way. The capital city would send a clear signal that the people of Goa had had enough.
That signal never came.
Instead, the same forces have been handed another mandate to continue as before.
It feels like a moment of deep disappointment.
But this is not the moment for despair.
All is not lost.
Goans must refuse to sink into resignation. We may have stumbled, but we must rise again. The struggle to protect Goa cannot end at the municipal ballot box.
Stopping the destruction of Goa is not merely about removing the BJP government. Replacing one party with another will achieve little if the same tired faces, the same political culture and the same appetite for power continue to dominate our politics.
A change of government does not automatically mean a change of mindset.
Too often in Goa, elections simply reshuffle the same actors — giving them a fresh stage from which to continue the same old plunder.
For the next five years, Panjekars will have to live with the consequences of their choice. The hardships, the civic chaos and the neglect may very well continue.
But let that be their lesson, not Goa’s destiny.
When the next Assembly elections arrive, Goans across the state must resist the temptation to follow the same pattern. We must think differently. Think boldly. Think beyond parties and personalities.
Most importantly, think about saving Goa.
Saving our rolling hills and green fields.
Saving our cascading rivers and monsoon waterfalls.
Saving our mangroves, ponds, roaring seas and white beaches.
Saving the fragile ecology and cultural soul that make Goa what it is.
The next mandate should not merely elect another government.
It should be a mandate to save Goa from the clutches of politicians themselves.
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