From Goa to Chennai: A Political Chess Match Between Two Goans – By Nisser Dias

Guv. Arlekar & AICC Chodankar

In a period when Goa finds itself increasingly dragged into divisive debates over religion, identity and communal polarization, it is ironic that two Goans from the same political and social background are simultaneously shaping political narratives nearly a thousand kilometres away in Tamil Nadu.

One is Rajendra Arlekar, presently occupying the constitutional office of Governor in Tamil Nadu. The other is Girish Chodankar, a senior Congress leader and All India Congress Committee observer involved in Tamil Nadu politics. Both men represent Goa in different ways, but their approaches to democracy, constitutional morality and political conduct could not be more different.

The recent political developments in Tamil Nadu have almost resembled a long-distance chess match between the two Goans. On one side stood Chodankar, attempting to negotiate political arithmetic and alliances in the post-election scenario. On the other stood Governor Arlekar, wielding the immense powers of the Raj Bhavan in deciding who should be invited to form the government.

Tamil Nadu has historically resisted central interference and has fiercely protected regional autonomy. The state’s political culture has always been rooted in anti-authoritarian Dravidian politics. Yet, the controversy following the elections once again brought to the forefront an old national debate — whether Governors appointed by the Centre act as neutral constitutional heads or political agents of the ruling party in Delhi.

Critics argue that Governor Arlekar’s conduct mirrored a larger pattern seen across India, where Governors in opposition-ruled states are often accused of delaying assent to bills, obstructing elected governments or selectively interpreting constitutional procedures. From Maharashtra to West Bengal, from Kerala to Punjab, Raj Bhavans have increasingly become battlegrounds of political confrontation. Tamil Nadu is merely the latest chapter in this ongoing struggle.

For many observers, Arlekar’s actions appeared less like those of an impartial constitutional authority and more like those of a seasoned ideological functionary carrying the political baggage of the RSS and the BJP. Instead of facilitating a smooth democratic transition, the Governor’s office appeared to become an instrument to delay or complicate the process.

Ironically, Goa itself is witnessing a similar atmosphere of polarization. Hate speeches, inflammatory social media posts, and attempts to pit one community against another have become disturbingly common. Fringe elements thrive on manufactured outrage, while political forces exploit identity divisions for electoral gains. Speakers from outside Goa are routinely invited to spread communal rhetoric, poisoning the state’s traditionally harmonious social fabric.

Against this backdrop, it becomes even more painful for many Goans to watch one of their own, Rajendra Arlekar, accused of undermining democratic norms in another state. Goa has always prided itself on moderation, co-existence and civility. Goans travelling outside the state are often respected for their balanced outlook and cosmopolitan temperament. Yet, when a Goan occupying a constitutional office is perceived as partisan, it inevitably reflects upon the image of the state itself.

On the other hand, Girish Chodankar presents an interesting contrast. Within Goa politics, Chodankar has never been without critics. During his tenure as Goa Pradesh

Congress Committee president, he faced rebellion, factionalism and internal sabotage. Many within his own party questioned his strategies and leadership style. However, even detractors concede that he managed to build relationships and maintain relevance in Tamil Nadu’s complex political environment.

While the Congress has often appeared fragmented and directionless, Tamil Nadu politics demands coalition management, ideological clarity and negotiation skills. Chodankar’s role there demonstrated his ability to operate in a politically mature and highly competitive landscape. Whether one agrees with his politics or not, he at least functioned within the democratic framework of electoral politics rather than through constitutional manipulation.

The contrast between the two Goans therefore, becomes symbolic of two very different political cultures emerging in India today.

One represents electoral politics, negotiation, alliance-building and democratic engagement. The other represents the growing centralization of power through institutions that are constitutionally expected to remain neutral.

This is not merely about Tamil Nadu. It is about the future of Indian federalism itself.

Increasingly, opposition parties across India accuse the BJP-led central government of weaponizing institutions — from the Election Commssion to Enforcement Directorate and the CBI to Governors and even constitutional bodies. Whether these accusations are entirely fair or politically exaggerated is open to debate, but the perception itself is becoming deeply entrenched in public discourse.

The BJP’s critics argue that the party’s so-called “double engine government” model often translates into relentless pressure on opposition-ruled states. Supporters, meanwhile, defend such actions as necessary for administrative accountability and national unity. But somewhere in this political battle, constitutional morality risks becoming collateral damage.

For Goans observing these events, the irony remains striking. Far away from Goa, two sons of the soil have ended up standing on opposite sides of India’s democratic fault lines.

One is trying to influence power through political persuasion.

The other is accused of influencing power through constitutional authority.

And that difference may ultimately define how history remembers them.