At long last, the political merry-go-round of Goa’s cabinet reshuffle has ground to a halt. After months of speculation, half-truths, and endless lobbying, the former Chief Minister, Digambar Kamat, and the former Speaker, Ramesh Tawadkar, joined the Pramod Sawant government.
In contrast, Michael Lobo, Sankalp Amonkar, and Nilesh Cabral, who nursed ambitious hopes of making it into the council of ministers, have been shown the door. The musical chairs have stopped, the suspense has ended, but whether governance has gained anything from this political drama is a question that lingers uncomfortably.
The exit of Aleixo Sequeira, citing “personal reasons,” was clearly the trigger for this reshuffle. His resignation, timed conveniently, paved the way for Kamat’s return to the cabinet. Tawadkar, meanwhile, relinquished his role as Speaker—another high constitutional position—to enter the executive. Neither induction was the result of any pressing demand of governance, nor of any public clamour for their leadership. They were instead dictated by party arithmetic and high-command calculations. The reshuffle was, in essence, about consolidating power, rewarding loyalty, and managing internal factions.
The message to Michael Lobo, Sankalp Amonkar, and Nilesh Cabral is equally clear. Lobo, once seen as a formidable force with a mass base in North Goa and a leader who could twist equations in the Opposition, has been relegated to irrelevance.
The BJP has evidently decided that his unpredictability outweighs his utility. Sankalp Amonkar’s hopes, inflated by his recent political manoeuvres and allegiance to the ruling side, have been ruthlessly pricked. Cabral, once a steady and loyal minister with the power portfolio, finds himself dumped unceremoniously. If the reshuffle was meant to balance egos, it has done so selectively—while simultaneously bruising a few.
Yet, the real disappointment lies not in who made it or who missed the bus, but in what this exercise represents. The Sawant government had an opportunity to use the reshuffle to inject new energy into the cabinet, to bring in leaders with proven administrative ability, and to match portfolios with competence. Instead, it has fallen back on tired political formulas—appease defectors, accommodate veterans, reward those useful for electoral arithmetic. In short, the politics of survival has once again trumped the politics of service.
Digambar Kamat’s induction is perhaps the most telling of all. Once the face of Congress in Goa, he defected to the BJP in 2022 in what has come to be known as “Operation Kamala.”
His switch, like that of others, undermined the opposition and exposed the fragility of party loyalty in the state. By elevating him now, the BJP has signalled that betrayal of mandate is not a liability but a qualification.
Ramesh Tawadkar’s move from Speaker to minister is equally unsettling. The position of Speaker is meant to be above partisan games, a neutral guardian of legislative conduct. By abandoning that chair for executive power, Tawadkar has reinforced the notion that constitutional propriety is expendable when ambition calls.
For the people of Goa, this reshuffle has offered little more than spectacle. The state grapples with crumbling infrastructure, a tourism sector in flux, a fragile environment, growing unemployment, and a youth that is increasingly disenchanted with politics. These are the urgent issues crying out for governance. Instead, for weeks, Goa was treated to the theatre of who will be dropped, who will be promoted, and who will be kept waiting. When politics becomes a soap opera, governance inevitably takes a back seat.
With the curtain now down on this episode, the challenge before the Sawant government is simple but formidable: prove that this reshuffle was not merely an exercise in internal management. Digambar Kamat and Ramesh Tawadkar must justify their presence in the cabinet with action, not nostalgia or loyalty.
The sidelined leaders must resist the temptation to indulge in sabotage and instead channel their energy into meaningful legislative contributions. Above all, the government must finally turn its gaze outward—towards the people who elected it, and the problems that continue to fester.
For now, the reshuffle question has been settled. But the larger question remains unsettled: will Goa ever see a politics where governance takes precedence over political expediency? Until that happens, every cabinet reshuffle, no matter how prolonged or dramatic, will remain nothing more than a game of thrones played at the cost of the common Goan.
