Though outnumbered in the House, the opposition MLAs showed that preparation, coordination, and an instinct for timing can still bend the arc of legislative outcomes
The 1960 Western classic ‘The Magnificent Seven’, directed by John Sturges, told the tale of a small band of gunslingers defending a village against overwhelming odds. Goa’s just-concluded monsoon session of the Eighth Legislative Assembly, held from July 21 to August 8, had its own version of that drama — not with Colt revolvers and dusty streets, but with rules of procedure, budget cut motions, and the occasional leap into the well of the House. This band of “seven” were no screen heroes, but real-life legislators: Viresh Borkar of the Revolutionary Goans Party; Venzy Viegas and Cruz Silva of the Aam Aadmi Party; Carlos Alvares Ferreira, Altone D’Costa, and Yuri Alemao of the Congress; and Vijai Sardesai of the Goa Forward Party. Outnumbered in a 40-member House dominated by the ruling benches, they still managed to wrest attention, drive debate, and, in the end, extract a rare climbdown from the government.
I watched all 136 hours of proceedings carefully and critically, and this is the first article in the series on the recently concluded session. The first three days went to the general discussion on the budget — a warm-up round. But it was when the House took up the Demands for Grants that the seven began to show their calibre. They had done their homework. Starred and unstarred questions were carefully filed, cut motions were aimed at specific budget heads, and interventions were coordinated so that no two members covered the same ground without adding fresh ammunition. Carlos Alvares Ferreira emerged as a forensic cross-examiner, drilling into land records, revenue administration, labour regulation, science and technology, and electricity. His questions often came wrapped in legal precision, exposing gaps in governance and forcing ministers onto the defensive. Altone D’Costa reinforced the line of attack, zeroing in on tariff hikes, underground cabling, and the management of cooperatives. Vijai Sardesai’s style was a blend of constituency focus and state-level analysis — he took aim at underutilised grants, the stubbornly empty engineering college seats, and civic projects of dubious fiscal prudence. A very studious and articulate Yuri Alemao, as Leader of the Opposition, wove specific budget critiques into wider narratives — OBC reservations in PG medical seats, employment policy failures, and the questionable denotification of land under the Tillari project all came under his lens.
From the AAP benches, Venzy Viegas and Cruz Silva made the link between everyday incidents and structural failings. A truck fire involving liquor stocks became Viegas’s cue to probe excise enforcement and departmental coordination. Silva pressed on coastal safety, fisheries regulation, and affordable housing. And then there was Viresh Borkar—fiercely guarding questions of Goa’s identity and environment. His Private Member’s Resolution to define “Goan” and “Person of Goan Origin” lit a fuse under the House. The debate was fierce, polarised, and culturally charged. The resolution failed, but the issue was firmly placed on record, and the government was made to spell out its stand. Yet the monsoon session was not just about the spoken word — it had its share of theatre.
On at least four or five occasions, the opposition walked into the well of the House and refused to leave, forcing Speaker Ramesh Tawadkar to adjourn proceedings for ten minutes at a time. In one flashpoint, Borkar was marshalled out. In another, Alemao tore up papers in protest, later offering an apology to the Chair. These moments, far from being mere disruption, were calculated flashes of defiance — signals to the public that the minority benches were ready to push back hard. All the strands of this tactical campaign began to converge on one legislative prize: the Goa Public Universities Bill. Opposition members had used the education demands to question its demographic logic, warn against fragmenting Goa University’s strength, and demand clarity on fiscal implications. When the bill came up on August 8, the seven were ready. Ferreira and Sardesai moved amendments to tighten governance rules and ensure financial accountability. Alemao’s critique was grounded in demographic reality, questioning the bill’s very necessity. Borkar spoke of the risk of cultural and academic dilution. Viegas and Silva underscored the dangers of politicising higher education appointments.
The government came armed with its own talking points, but the Opposition’s arguments had been sharpened over two weeks of earlier skirmishes. The debate ran for a few hours. Points were pressed, rebuttals flew, and procedural levers were worked to the maximum. By evening, the treasury benches yielded ground — agreeing to send the bill to a Select Committee. It was a small procedural sentence with big political meaning: The bill would be delayed, dissected, and debated afresh, all because seven legislators had worked in unison to create sustained pressure. Away from this main event, the seven made sure smaller but vital concerns reached the record. Calling Attention notices flagged thefts, unchecked influx, and public safety failures. Supplementary questions were used to close loopholes in ministerial replies.
What emerged from these 15 days was a demonstration that numbers alone don’t dictate relevance. The seven — Borkar, Viegas, Silva, Ferreira, D’Costa, Alemao, and Sardesai — showed that preparation, coordination, and an instinct for timing can still bend the arc of legislative outcomes. They fought not just for set-piece victories like the referral of the Public Universities Bill, but for dozens of smaller gains: An answer pinned down, a contradiction exposed, an issue pushed into the media cycle. They may not have ridden into the sunset like Sturges’s gunslingers, but in Goa’s monsoon session they did something just as enduring—they left a trail of hoofprints across the Assembly record. And in a political age when opposition often collapses into empty theatrics, this was a reminder that even a small group, united in cause and method, can still make the government blink. In the annals of Goa’s parliamentary history, this batch will be remembered as ‘The Seven Magnificent MLAs’.
(Dr Nandkumar M Kamat, who has a doctorate in microbiology, is a scientist and science writer)
