- LUIS DIAS
Last year, I wrote a column in another section of the press, in response to the appalling news that our capital city’s heritage building Junta House was slated for demolition.
I feel the need to write again about this because recently social media is abuzz with horrifying plans to hand this landmark location as well to the casino and real estate lobby, instead of factoring the local residents in the equation.
A testament to the woeful lack of imagination of our city’s custodians is the ‘plan’ to replace the historic public astronomical observatory on the building terrace (that inspired and evoked a sense of awe for the Universe and awakened a quest for knowledge and stimulation of the intellect in generations of minds young and old alike since its inception over four decades ago by Percival Noronha in 1982) by yet more casinos, and a ‘roof-top’ swimming pool (at a time when much of Panjim city does not receive adequate water supply for drinking and basic amenities and many areas are dependent on water tankers!). What does it say about our collective priorities, perspective, and planning for
the future?
Percival Noronha (1923–2019) was a polymath. Although much older than me, I am proud to call him a friend. Formidable yet mild-mannered, he was a historian, heritage conservationist, astronomy lover and also a bureaucrat with a long innings in government service both before and after 1961.
I recently re-read a well-researched 2002 article by him in 2002, in which he chronicled the growth of Panjim from “a large coconut grove interspersed with ponds, backwaters, creeks, canals, sand dunes and paddy fields” in the 15th century that methodically, with much labour of love, long-term vision and planning and execution became the “Princess of the Mandovi” that even I remember in the early decades
after Liberation.
About Manuel António Vassalo e Silva (1889–1985), the last Governor-General of Portuguese India and his ambitious plans for the further urbanisation of Panjim, Noronha says: “A note that touched the hearts of all Goans was the appeal made by the Governor to the residents of Panjim, inviting them to come forward with their valuable suggestions, so as to improve
the plan.”
I remember the warm welcome Vassalo e Silva received on returning to Goa in 1980 (in gratitude for refusing to put Goa to the torch in December 1961, in direct defiance of Salazar’s explicit orders, for which he suffered the humiliation of court-martial and exile until his rank and freedom were restored after the Carnation Revolution of 1974).
But here I want to dwell on the concept of participatory governance that Noronha wrote about in connection with Vassalo e Silva and Panjim, a concept that seems alien to our city fathers and planners. We the residents are the last to be taken into confidence, despite the fact that those far-reaching and often absurd decisions affect us and our own quality of life most directly.
Noronha further wrote: “Though relatively small, Panjim, lapped and nourished by the waters of the quiet flowing placid Mandovi, grew with a distinct individuality and quaint old charm that was quite fascinating.”
This “distinct individuality”, the “quaint old charm” the lapping of the nourishing “quiet, flowing, placid river Mandovi’ all these are Panjim’s USP, our capital city’s unique selling point. This is what makes our Panjim what she is, distinct from any other capital city, or indeed any other city or town in India, and dare I say, the rest of the world.
“When one speaks of Panjim city, one cannot dissociate the River Mandovi from her. In fact, the Mandovi is her lifeline,” he continues.
Already in 2002, Noronha was lamenting the damage caused to Panjim by “an army of raw architects and planners debouched from largely mediocre universities and with little Goan culture (save a few).” He singled out the post-Liberation obliteration of the thoughtfully laid storm water drains that until then had prevented flooding in our city. Flooding has been a regular occurrence ever since, because of the arrogance and ignorance, in not appreciating the wisdom and care of planners from the past. How ironic, therefore, that one possible etymological explanation for the name ‘Panji’ or Ponji’ is “the land that never floods”, in
Noronha’s introduction.
Noronha again: “Once a new city is fairly stabilised, the dynamic towards growth and accretion needs expert intervention and follow-up by modern processes of town planning and public health.” Noronha italicised these last four words for emphasis. This is something else that is sorely lacking in modern-day Panjim, in addition to participatory governance. The horrendous public health menace of the casino and gambling industry are well-documented. Yet people who ought to know better and think before they make public statements, from Prudent Media’s Pramod Acharya (who glibly asserts “Casinos are here to stay”; “Panjim comes alive at night due to casinos”) to ironically even Health Minister Vishwajeet Rane (“Panjim will be desolate without casinos”) and Opposition MLA Vijay Sardessai (“Ponnjekars want casinos”. Really? When was the survey taken? Nobody asked me. Could he furnish the survey instead of making airy assertions?) demonstrate their sheer lack of vision and utter ignorance about public health of a society.
I appeal to the medical fraternity and the associations that represent them, to come out forcefully against this menace.
What is the legal basis for cravenly forking over public land, our public buildings and spaces to the casino and real estate mafia, overriding any concept of the greater common good? Where is the justice, and what is the fate of Panjim if it loses all its character in literally selling away
its soul?
Is it really so impossible to retain the public observatory manned by the Association of the Friends of Astronomy AFA) lovingly for over four decades, earning the praise of luminaries from astrophysicist Jayant Narlikar to India’s former President Abdul Kalam? To any rational planner, its historic, heritage value would have ensured its inclusion into any ‘redevelopment’ plan. AFA’s contribution to Goa’s cultural life and the nurturing of a scientific temperament in young minds is quite incalculable. A “smart city” would have immediately recognised its value. But our planners bow and scrape before the casino and real estate lobby above all else, deaf and blind to any consideration of what Panjim’s
residents want.
The bigger scandal is how and why Junta House, barely six decades old, was neglected so criminally that instead of periodic maintenance in its lifespan, it needs demolition in the first place. Is this part of a sinister design, to allow buildings to deliberately languish, and then, in the guise of “public-private partnership” hand it over to moneybags instead of wholesome use for the greater public good?
Junta House is just one of many public buildings that seems to be vulnerable to this threat. There are even older jewels, from the Fazenda, to Adil Shah Palace, the former Excise building, old Lyceum and courts in Altinho, Postmaster General building, over whose future there is an ominous silence. Will the residents of Panjim one day awaken to another rude shock that these too, have been given over to the same casino and real estate lobby? Panjim’s “days of doom”, predicted by Noronha in 2002, are tragically already here. Unless we collectively fight to save her.
