https://www.heraldgoa.in/Edit/By-invitation/Adeus-Panjim/195251

Earlier this week, lifelong Panjim resident and Travel & Tourism
Association of Goa office-
bearer Jack Sukhijia – he is named for his grandfather, the ‘Father of
the Opinion
Poll’ Jack Sequeira – posted on Facebook: “Have heard statements from
the camps of two powerful
ministers today that the casino industry is too powerful to take on,
and can do what they wish
in Goa. Hope this is not a hands-up to surrender more of the Panjim
riverfront to them,
starting with the real estate which was earlier leased to the Mandovi
[Hotel] as an event space
and restaurant.”

Sukhijia was writing in the wake of startling new encroachments, and
an irresponsible
blitzkrieg of tree-felling, dune-razing devastation on the heritage
waterfront of Panjim, with
no oversight or accountability whatsoever. Just one horrific example:
almost all the ferry
ramp was already gifted – no one can say how and why – to the floating
gambling dens, but
now that space is fronted by building-sized roadside neon “hoardings”,
that blind drivers
coming from Azad Maidan. No responsible authority could possibly
approve this deathtrap,
but here it blazes with impunity next to police headquarters.

Track up from that point, and it is only casino, casino, casino, with
the deep disgrace of lurid
come-hither directly facing the statue of Bhausaheb Bandodkar. Head
the other way towards
Aguada, however, and that is where bulldozers are concentrating: many
trees felled, and huge
quantities of stone and rubble extending an unwanted, environmentally
devastating concrete
promenade through Campal Creek, past Kala Academy, and – now building
directly on sands
– onwards to Miramar and ahead to Dona Paula.

Whose priority? What permissions? How can this be done without any
consultations? We
have no answers, because this is how things are now in Goa. Our
neighbourhoods – and,
indeed, our selves – are being brutally violated, but what is even
worse is being told we like
it. It’s an absolute crisis of democracy. Can public sentiment be so
thoroughly suppressed?
As the senior city resident Arun Baba Naik put it in his comment on
Sukhijia’s post: “Let us
reconcile ourselves to the fact that casinos here have the backing of
the supreme power of the
nation. Can we therefore oppose it without the fear of being labelled
as urban naxals? Let's be
frank.”

Sukhijia’s reply had an unmistakable echo of his revered namesake:
“Sir, it does not matter
who calls us what as long as our conscience is clear. No power,
however large, can foist
something on someone else against their wishes and will. I am sure
that the supreme power
can be convinced with the right messaging not to take over more of our
city’s beautiful land,
or push more ugly defunct boats in the Mandovi. The problem is if the
gatekeepers between
us and the supreme power themselves think the casinos are ones to do
business with.”

The next day, Sukhijia elaborated to me: “It is sad, frustrating and
mind-boggling to see what I
consider to be the most beautiful promenade in India rendered into
what at night looks like a
cheap, chaotic strip joint. Around two decades back, we had a chance
to head towards being a
cultural capital by utilizing our heritage. Manohar Parrikar began
promisingly, with the
refurbishment of the Old Goa Medical College. But since then, we have
headed straight to disaster. At this point, we absolutely have to
ensure that casinos do not take over our city
completely. Besides everything else, it’s bad economics to put all
your eggs in one basket,
especially one which crowds out other ways of being, and everything we
value about
Panjim.”

Sukhijia broke the problem down nicely: “One of the side effects of
our democracy is that there are
so many interest groups, who do not see beyond their narrow interests,
that a politician is
often bewildered and panicky about making decisions (having said that,
this is a fate they
themselves have brought on, by choosing the path of least resistance).
There’s also the
cyclical nature of new masters, so new projects, rather than simply
maintaining and managing
an already beautiful natural and built infrastructure. In addition, we
have a bloated and
oversized government with negligible interdepartmental coordination,
and different bodies
working at cross purposes.”

Is there any way out of this mess? I wrote to Vinayak Bharne, the
born-and-bred Panjimite,
who is an urbanist and professor based in Los Angeles (and new
Honorary Advisor to
Vishwajit Rane’s Town & Country Planning department). He responded
that “for me, the
idea of shaping the future of a town or city should be a collaborative
negotiation between
diverse interests - economic, political, cultural, environmental. We
absolutely need economic
engines of various kinds, but exactly how much, and where, and in what
form, are questions
that need to be deliberated collectively. My hope is that such a
process will begin in Goa, and
soon. It will help in two ways: first, to get everyone's opinions
heard, and second, to help
generate strategies by which existing economic engines can contribute
towards the larger
good of the city. If economic forces focus only on themselves, that's
one thing. If they, on the
other hand, also focus on augmenting daily life in the city for all,
not just a few, that's a
whole other thing.”

In response to the photo that accompanies this column, Bharne said
that “Goa's is a "monsoon
urbanism"; This does not just mean plenty of rain. Intrinsic to this
is Goa's ecology of rivers,
riverbanks, canals, creeks, and fields that are part of a larger
regional hydrology within which
settlements must be planned. In many ways, concrete is the antithesis
of a monsoon
urbanism, because the last thing we want in monsoon cities and towns
is more hardscape.
Monsoon settlements need to be porous, allowing the water to
percolate, flow and replenish
the hydrology in natural ways. Concretizing river banks etc. began as
myopic and utilitarian
engineering solutions in the industrial era, when natural elements
were being treated as dead
commodities. In those times, ecological knowledge was not as deep as
it is now. Climate
change was not even an issue. But it is now - and we cannot ignore it.
We know enough
about the debacles of past trends, and there are numerous examples
across the world that have
reversed such trends. Goa definitely needs investment and work on its
riverbanks, but there
are progressive ways of thinking about such places as "soft
edges," and living ecologies, with
flora, fauna and public space that can be a wonderful amenity for the
local community. In
short, it will cost the same amount of money, but if we shift our
perspective on what
such efforts can be, everything can change.”

Bharne says “Panjim has to embrace change and growth. This is a
natural process. The
question is: Is this growth ad hoc or monitored? Is it being decided
by a few or is it emerging
through a reflective collective discourse?  In Panjim, we may have
different opinions of what
it ought to be, and we must embrace them all. But taken together, they
must amount to
making a wonderful town to live in - this is what the science of town
planning is all about.
For example, there may be parts where the built inheritance should be
zealously (and I mean zealously) conserved. There may be other parts
where the rules are laxed. But in both cases,
aspects like public space, public life, mobility, infrastructure and
environmental concerns
cannot and should not be compromised. I, for one, strongly feel that
Panjim urgently needs a
robust Open Space Plan. And an equally robust Infrastructure Plan. We
need to focus first on
Panjim's beautiful network of squares, streets, creeks - and bring
them alive. We need to
address its mobility and parking problem. We need to address its
flooding problem. This
comes first. Then we can talk about other issues.”

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