By Suraj Nandrekar
Politics in Goa is entering a decisive phase. The approaching Assembly elections in 2027 may appear distant, but the ground is already shifting. The potential coming together of Vijai Sardesai’s Goa Forward Party (GFP) and Manoj Parab’s Revolutionary Goans Party (RGP) has the makings of a political earthquake. If it matures into a full-fledged alliance, the so-called wedding between the two regional outfits could reshape the political arithmetic in Goa.
The seeds of this partnership were visible at the recent protest in Mopa. The sight of Sardesai and Parab sharing the stage was more than just symbolism. It reflected an evolving camaraderie rooted in their shared political vocabulary: Goemkarponn. For both parties, this idea of authentic Goan identity has been the central plank. While Sardesai’s GFP has long positioned itself as the custodian of Goan interests against Delhi’s interference, Parab’s RGP has given voice to a new generation of voters frustrated with traditional party politics and eager to reclaim Goan pride.
What makes this possible alliance more intriguing is their bitter past. Only a year ago, the two leaders were exchanging barbs. Parab went as far as calling Sardesai the “most corrupt politician in Goa,” while Sardesai dismissed RGP as an immature outfit with little grasp of governance. The rhetoric was sharp, personal and seemingly irreconcilable. Yet here they are, not just sharing space but signalling an openness to work together. This turnaround underlines how fluid and pragmatic Goan politics can be when larger goals are at stake.
Individually, both parties have limitations. GFP’s rise in 2017 was dramatic but quickly blunted after Sardesai joined the BJP-led coalition and later fell out of favour. Since then, he has struggled to reclaim his image as a steadfast opposition voice. RGP, on the other hand, is still in its infancy. Though it managed to win a seat in 2022 and enjoys popularity among younger Goemkars, especially in North Goa, its reach is uneven and its organisation untested in larger electoral battles.
Together, however, they could create a formidable challenge to both BJP and Congress. GFP brings political experience, organisational strength, and Sardesai’s shrewd understanding of Goa’s constituency-level dynamics. RGP contributes fresh energy, grassroots mobilisation, and an uncompromising ideological edge. At the Mopa protest, what we witnessed was not merely optics but the first step towards a consolidation of regional Goan forces.
The BJP, which has mastered the art of coalition-building and defections, will not take this lightly. For more than a decade, it has relied on a fragmented opposition and the inability of regional players to sustain unity. An alliance between GFP and RGP could spoil this equation. It could consolidate anti-BJP votes under a Goemkarponn banner, particularly in constituencies where Congress has failed to inspire confidence.
Congress is, in fact, the biggest loser in this emerging scenario. Despite being the principal opposition on paper, the party has repeatedly fumbled in Goa—failing to keep its flock together, failing to project a credible leadership, and failing to convince voters it can take on the saffron machine. If GFP and RGP build a credible alliance, Congress risks further irrelevance. It may be reduced to a junior player or even bypassed altogether in constituencies where the regional combine can strike directly at the BJP.
But challenges remain. Alliances are easier announced than sustained. Sardesai and Parab come from different political cultures. Sardesai is a seasoned operator who knows the give-and-take of politics, while Parab is a street-fighter whose appeal comes from his uncompromising stance. Reconciling these styles will not be easy. Further, seat-sharing will test their egos. RGP’s base may demand more seats than its current organisational strength justifies, while GFP will want to protect its existing bastions in Salcete and beyond. Another challenge is credibility. Sardesai’s critics have not forgotten his 2017 decision to back the BJP despite campaigning against it. For many, this was an unforgivable betrayal. RGP risks being tainted by association unless Sardesai can convincingly rebuild his anti-BJP credentials.
On the other hand, RGP itself must prove it can govern, not just agitate. Its rhetoric resonates, but voters will eventually ask whether it can deliver.
Still, the arithmetic is compelling. A GFP–RGP combine would not only energise the opposition space but also give Goans a narrative they can own. Unlike Congress, which often looks like a Delhi-controlled outpost, this alliance would claim authenticity.
Both parties speak in the language of Goemkarponn, the language of protecting Goa’s land, identity and culture from outside exploitation.
If Sardesai and Parab can set aside their sharp personal history—the accusations, the mistrust, the public name-calling—and work out a common minimum programme, they could offer Goa its first serious regional alternative in years. It may not be enough to topple the BJP immediately, but it could certainly fracture its dominance and weaken its hold.
The wedding, then, is more than just political theatre. It is a truce between two rivals who once saw each other as enemies. If it holds, it could be the beginning of a new regional front in Goa that finally forces national parties to take Goemkars seriously.
