-Kishor Naik Gaonkar

Perhaps while reading this editorial, some may think, “What’s the big deal? Goa is still the same.” But pause for a moment and look around quietly. The Goa we love, the Goa we take pride in, the Goa our ancestors protected with sweat and blood, today that very Goa is vanishing before our eyes. And so, with a heavy heart, these words must be spoken: “Take one last look…”

Because the question now is not merely about development. The question is about Goa’s very existence.

Goa is not just beaches, tourism, casinos, or five-star hotels. Goa is its soil. The soil that gave birth to our culture. The soil that sheltered the local Konkani language. The soil on which temple spires rose, church bells rang, farmers’ sweat grew rice, and village festivals came alive.

If this soil slips away from our hands, what will remain?

Today, land transactions in Goa are no longer just property deals; they have become transactions of identity. Centuries of tradition are being measured in crores of rupees. Fields, hills, orchards, and plantations nurtured for generations are being turned into plots on builders’ maps.

Many will quickly say, “But it’s Goans themselves who sell the land.” Yes… they do. But does anyone truly understand the reasons behind it?

Farming has no support. Job opportunities are limited. The younger generation sees no future in the villages. Ownership documents are incomplete. Ordinary people get trapped in legal tangles. Even to build a house on one’s own land, one must wear down the steps of government offices. Family disputes, court cases, and bureaucratic hurdles make land more of a burden than an asset.

And in that helpless moment, the builder arrives with bag of cash in hand. He says, “You just sign. We’ll handle the rest.” And indeed, he does. The documents that take ordinary Goans years to obtain are prepared on his desk within days. Permissions denied to locals are easily granted for large projects. When politicians, officials, and money power come together, the impossible becomes possible.

So how can the blame rest only on the Goan who sells?

Meanwhile, the government itself is on a spree of acquisition in the name of development highways, industrial estates, tourism projects, changes in town and country planning, and new policies. All pulling thousands of square meters of land away from its original purpose.

Village Gram Sabha resolutions are ignored. Public objections are dismissed. Environmental warnings are rejected. Court battles drag on for years, but bulldozers never stop.

Today, resorts matter more than homes. Villas are more profitable than fields. Concrete jungles fetch more value than forests. Hills are flattened, wetlands filled, rivers diverted and all of it is called “development.”

But is this really development? Or is it the auction of a living state’s soul?

From this mindset came provisions like 16(B), 17(2), and now 39(A). These laws have dismantled the very concept of planning. Agriculture, hills, water sources, biodiversity, and village structures can now be altered with a single signature on a file. Goa’s wounds are not just natural, they are inflicted through laws.

To save this wounded Goa, on July 17 the “Enough is Enough” movement has decided to submit a memorandum to the Town and Country Planning Department. This is not just the voice of one organization; it is a call to every Goan. Because governments understand the power of people more than the power of paper. If thousands unite, the government too will realize that Goa is still alive.

But the deepest pain? We remain silent. We vent on social media, post statuses, share posts—but when it’s time to take to the streets, we search for excuses. Those who fight today are fighting for you too. Tomorrow, when injustice strikes them, we shrug and say, “What’s it to us?”

Yet history warns: the society that fails to protect its land eventually becomes a tenant in its own homeland.

Do we want Goa to reach that point?

Tomorrow your children will ask— “Dad, was there ever rice cultivation here?” “Mom, where did these hills go?” “Grandpa, why do Goan villages look so different now?”

What will you answer? That you saw it all… but did nothing?

Friends, it is not too late. This may be the last chance.

This struggle is not of any one party, organization, or leader. It is the struggle for every Goan’s identity. Because if the land is lost, it is not just property that disappears—language will vanish, culture will fade, traditions will die, villages will lose their character, and most importantly, the next generation’s right to Goa itself will be erased.

So today, every Goan must ask themselves one question, Will we remain mere spectators of Goa, or will we become its protectors?

Because if we do not awaken now, tomorrow there will be no Goa left to show our children… only concrete walls, closed gates, private townships… and a burning regret in our hearts. “If only we had risen then!”