Going back to the old days when Goa was not inundated with tourists the entire year around, the older generations will remember a Goa that was perhaps underdeveloped, but far more pristine. It was truly the paradise that the hippies came to explore.
Other than a few beaches like Colva and Calangute, you barely ever saw the sight of a human during the day on most beaches.
And even those beaches had the scant foreign tourists during a particular season, which usually coincided with their harsh winter, making their stay in Goa a pleasant “summer” for them.
I remember walking the virginal sands of Palolem Beach in the summers in the early 90s. It was a clear blue sea that one could perceive, a poet’s muse, prompting thoughts of beauty and grandeur, inspiring a flow of words that would personify those qualities.
There was rarely a soul in sight other than family.
Someone else carried an entire handi (cooking vessel) of pulao, big enough to feed a family of twenty.
The typical merging of the extended family would take us on these carefully planned picnics. Someone was allotted the sandwich making and boiling a few dozen eggs as snacks.
Someone else carried an entire handi (cooking vessel) of pulao, big enough to feed a family of twenty. Then it was a toss between chicken xacuti or chicken with Goan green masala. Everyone wanted the chicken xacuti, of course!
Family politics without a doubt reared its ugly head in the war of the cooks. Like the time everybody polished off my mum’s potato chops with mince filling and left my aunt’s beef roast untouched. Oh, there were looks that could have killed had they manifested as daggers.
There were times that a relative would conjure up Goan chow chow. That dish was a source of great confusion to me as a child.
Watching the entire ambience of the once serene beach transform has felt like my childhood is being trampled upon.
Cut to 2024 and Palolem is now a shock to the system. Watching the entire ambience of the once serene beach transform has felt like my childhood is being trampled upon.
At least when the tourist season was restricted to the non-monsoon months and the cooler summer days, there was some relief from the burden of tourists, shacks, vendors and the entire lot of purveyors of all tourist-related entertainment.
Now, there is no such thing. The relentless assault on the senses and the infrastructure is slowly showing cracks in the psyche and the physical health of the locals.
We are being robbed of our spaces, our amenities to line the pockets of stakeholders who are not necessarily the Goan people.
I know for certain that there are a number of shacks that are run by non-Goans trying to make a fast buck off tourism in the state.
They attempt to pass themselves off as Goan with a smattering of a few Konkani words to beguile the uninformed tourist.
I had the horrid experience of asking for recheado bangde and receiving a half frozen, deep-fried mackerel with no trace of recheado masala. It was both comical and sad.
They attempt to pass themselves off as Goan with a smattering of a few Konkani words to beguile the uninformed tourist.
If tourism were benefiting Goa economically as much as it is touted to be, why are Goans still leaving the State for greener pastures? That in itself should clue you in to whose coffers are being filled by the tourism drive.
It just boggles the mind when you appreciate ground reality is a whole different story than what the brochures and billboards will sell you.
And the government is complicit in Goa's destruction and will remain apathetic to the situation as long as corruption thrives.
The way tourism in Goa is being advertised and the section of tourists being targeted, along with the aforementioned attitude of the Goa government, I am convinced, will be the ruination of this once wonderful place I call home.