The veil shielding the conduct of doctors, nurses, and staff at Goa’s premier medical institution — Goa Medical College (GMC) — has been ruthlessly torn down. And ironically, the man who pulled it down, Health Minister Vishwajit Rane, exposed his own authoritarian underbelly in the same breath.
In an appalling public spectacle, Rane demanded the immediate suspension of Dr. Rudresh Kuttikar, Chief Medical Officer of the casualty block throwing the rule book out of the window. But it wasn’t just the demand — it was the crude, aggressive language Rane used that laid bare the rot at the top: “Get out,” “Shut up,” “Kick him out of here,” “Go home.” This wasn’t a minister reprimanding a subordinate — it was a man drunk on power, playing to the cameras in a staged display of might.
If the Health Minister hoped to shine light on the dysfunctional state of GMC, he also managed to shine a spotlight on his own abrasive, undemocratic methods.
The incident was sparked by a journalist who, on being turned away from a closed Urban Health Centre, took his elderly parents to the GMC casualty ward for an injection, upon a senior medic’s advice. Dr. Rudresh, however, refused to administer the shot. The senior medic intervened again, asked the ward staff to proceed, and the injections were finally given.
But that wasn’t the end.
The journalist, understandably disturbed, escalated the issue to none other than the Health Minister. What followed was an orchestrated descent into chaos — Rane stormed into GMC with a convoy of media personnel, unleashed a tirade on Dr. Kuttikar, and ordered his removal in front of staff, patients, and cameras.
Let’s be clear: neither party came out looking good. Dr. Rudresh's behavior was inhumane and unacceptable. But Rane’s response — public humiliation, profanity, and a total disregard for procedural decorum — was equally reprehensible.
Two wrongs never make a right, and in this case, they exposed a systemic failure.
The buck, as always, stops somewhere — and this time, it stops squarely at the feet of Vishwajit Rane. This is not a one-off incident. It is a damning indictment of the culture he has cultivated over the 13 years he’s helmed the health ministry — first under Congress (2007–2012), and then BJP (2017–2025). If GMC doctors and staff reek of arrogance and apathy, it’s because the rot starts at the top.
The minister had a golden opportunity — in that very moment — to lead by example. To urge his medical staff to show humility, to reinforce compassion and humanity. Instead, he chose to perform. And in doing so, revealed that he too lacks the very qualities he sought to demand.
Sure, Rane may have modernized facilities at GMC. But what use are next-gen machines if a patient has to beg for a basic injection? What does it say about our healthcare system if the elderly must wait on personal influence and phone calls to receive routine care?
This time, it was a journalist — someone with access to power. But what about the common man? The daily wage earner? The migrant worker? If this is how the system treats the informed, what hope does the voiceless have?
The legendary arrogance of GMC’s staff isn’t new. But Rane’s display only reinforced the culture. A health minister cannot lead by screaming, nor can he fire people like he’s running a personal estate. Goa Medical College is not your paichem bhens — your father’s land — Mr. Rane. It is a public institution governed by law, not by the whims of an entitled minister on a power trip.
And if this is how he rules a ministry, God help Goa if he ever rules the state.
Saturday, 7 June 2025
Tuesday, 8 April 2025
Classroom Heat, Assembly Chill: Goa’s New Education Mantra -- BY Nisser Dias
If there’s one thing the Goa government has mastered with surgical precision, it’s the ancient Indian art of doing the opposite. While students are being stewed like dumplings in the April heat under the all-embracing National Education Policy (NEP), our honourable legislators are cooling their heels (and conscience) in air-conditioned Assembly chambers — with shorter sessions, of course, because deep thought and democratic debate cause... sweat.
Let’s not be ungrateful. The same government that can’t commit to a full Assembly session without breaking into hives has gallantly committed children to an additional month of schooling. Where sunscreen turns to soup and ceiling fans develop inferiority complexes. It’s part of NEP’s noble vision to prepare children for “national and global challenges”— starting with surviving climate change indoors, without air conditioning.
Chief Minister Pramod Sawant, the man of many ministries and even more microphones, has shown true leadership — by skipping full discussion on NEP in the House and fast-tracking it into classrooms like a syllabus on Red Bull.
Infrastructure? Ah, mere details! After all, NEP is about developing higher-order thinking, not basic necessities like buildings or trained teachers. If kids can learn perseverance, surely they can also learn to ignore sweating through their uniforms in classrooms designed during the Jurassic period.
And if you think the NEP was debated properly before being enforced, think again. The Assembly session that tried to raise the issue ended faster than a Goan monsoon. Perhaps the Chief Minister feared that the Opposition would expose the grand disconnect between policy ambition and reality—or worse, force him to answer questions. Critical thinking is encouraged in students, not in elected officials. They prefer their sessions brief and their egos long.
Now, the NEP says we need to teach empathy, leadership, communication. Beautiful! Maybe someday that can be extended to MLAs—especially the ones who rely on bureaucrats to explain basic governance, or those whose only experience in communication is forwarding WhatsApp messages with typos.
Let’s not be ungrateful. The same government that can’t commit to a full Assembly session without breaking into hives has gallantly committed children to an additional month of schooling. Where sunscreen turns to soup and ceiling fans develop inferiority complexes. It’s part of NEP’s noble vision to prepare children for “national and global challenges”— starting with surviving climate change indoors, without air conditioning.
Chief Minister Pramod Sawant, the man of many ministries and even more microphones, has shown true leadership — by skipping full discussion on NEP in the House and fast-tracking it into classrooms like a syllabus on Red Bull.
Infrastructure? Ah, mere details! After all, NEP is about developing higher-order thinking, not basic necessities like buildings or trained teachers. If kids can learn perseverance, surely they can also learn to ignore sweating through their uniforms in classrooms designed during the Jurassic period.
And if you think the NEP was debated properly before being enforced, think again. The Assembly session that tried to raise the issue ended faster than a Goan monsoon. Perhaps the Chief Minister feared that the Opposition would expose the grand disconnect between policy ambition and reality—or worse, force him to answer questions. Critical thinking is encouraged in students, not in elected officials. They prefer their sessions brief and their egos long.
Now, the NEP says we need to teach empathy, leadership, communication. Beautiful! Maybe someday that can be extended to MLAs—especially the ones who rely on bureaucrats to explain basic governance, or those whose only experience in communication is forwarding WhatsApp messages with typos.
Let us also appreciate how the government, while advocating curriculum transformation, has decided to transform history instead. Out with uncomfortable facts, in with the fantasy edition of the past — where apparently no one ever disagreed, and everyone wore saffron.
Of course, many parents are asking: what happens to the two-month vacation where kids usually pursue music, sports, or the age-old art of doing nothing with great enthusiasm? Why is it now being hijacked by policy experiments designed in Delhi and executed in Goa like a surprise math test? Because, dear readers, unlike Assembly sessions, child development can’t be postponed. The Goa government simply cares too much.
Let’s take a moment to imagine an NEP-inspired Assembly session—longer hours, skill development, teamwork, soft skills. Perhaps MLAs could be given role-plays: one plays an angry citizen, one a confused CM, and one, of course, plays Delhi. But alas, no such luck. Our legislators prefer soft cushions to soft skills.<
In conclusion, while students learn to debate, collaborate, and adapt under the NEP, the political class leads by inverse example: avoiding questions, abbreviating responsibility, and sweating only when the microphones are on.
Maybe that’s the real lesson: Do as we say, not as we legislate.
Monday, 27 January 2025
"From reverence to disregard — If this is how Divinity is treated, what about the people? -- By Nisser Dias
When pomp turns into shame: The crib once meant to honor the Holy Family now lies discarded on the pavement.
MLA Venzy Viegas, is this how you show respect to Divinity? Your actions reflect a deeper attitude: Use. Misuse. Abuse. Discard."
With much pomp and gaiety, the Benaulim MLA had erected a crib in a pond at Tolleaband-Pulwaddo in Benaulim greeting his constituents ‘Christmas and a New Year 2025.
MLA Venzy Viegas, is this how you show respect to Divinity? Your actions reflect a deeper attitude: Use. Misuse. Abuse. Discard."
With much pomp and gaiety, the Benaulim MLA had erected a crib in a pond at Tolleaband-Pulwaddo in Benaulim greeting his constituents ‘Christmas and a New Year 2025.
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