Is the Towel Hiding More Than a Meter?

At first glance, it looks like a minor inconvenience – another Goan taxi with its digital fare meter hidden beneath a towel. But behind that seemingly harmless cover is a much larger story, one that involves crores of rupees, unanswered questions, and a trail of public money that appears to benefit everyone but the passengers and taxi drivers it was supposed to serve.

More than 18,319 taxis in Goa have been fitted with digital fare meters, each costing taxi owners ₹11,000 at the time of installation. That alone amounts to over ₹20 crore collected upfront from drivers under the banner of regulation and transparency.

The meters – equipped with GPS tracking and panic buttons—are, however, rarely switched on. Most lie dormant, tucked under towels or covered with newspapers, their display screens never blinking. Why? Because no one is checking, no one is enforcing, and everyone seems to be paying.

And the costs don’t end there.

Every year, each taxi owner pays ₹4,654 as a renewal and maintenance fee for a meter that remains unused.

This fee, according to official data presented in the Goa Legislative Assembly (Starred LAQ No. 008B), includes data charges of ₹1,050, annual maintenance of ₹1,694, department charges of ₹1,200, and GST on top.

In just one year, the state’s taxi operators collectively pay over ₹8.5 crore for annual renewals, even though many meters are never turned on.

But where is all this money going?

That question is not only being asked by drivers but also by legislators. Calangute MLA Michael Lobo recently took the bold step of questioning his own government, asking directly: “Who is getting the commission?” Lobo pointed out that while drivers are compelled to pay thousands every year, there is no accountability, no published record of usage, and no clarity about how the funds are being spent. “Why are meters being renewed when they are not even used? Where is the money going?” he asked.

Transport Minister Mauvin Godinho responded by distancing himself from the policy, stating that the decision to implement the meters was taken before he assumed charge of the department and that it was simply a measure to comply with the 2018 High Court directives. “Some people have a habit of just talking,” Godinho said, dismissing Lobo’s questions without offering any detailed breakdown of the collected money, vendor payments, or enforcement costs.

He confirmed that only a portion of the renewal fee – specifically ₹1,200 per taxi per year – is deposited in the government treasury, while the rest is retained by private vendors.

This means that over ₹3,400 per taxi per year – totalling crores annually – is being paid to vendors, without any public audit, transparency reports, or performance disclosure.

RTI requests filed by civic groups in Panaji and Margao have tried to uncover where these funds end up and how many taxis actually operate with meters turned on.

But the responses have offered little clarity. According to activists who shared RTI correspondence, the Transport Department has repeatedly replied that the “records are not compiled in the requested format” and that “data compilation is under process.” One applicant was told that the department “does not maintain a daily log of active meters,” and that enforcement data was “not consolidated for public release.”

In simpler terms, the system that collects crores from drivers is not matched by any credible tracking mechanism to ensure compliance.

On the ground, taxi drivers are frustrated and increasingly vocal about the burden.

At stands in Candolim, Panjim, and Vasco, many confirmed they have never once been asked by inspectors to show an active meter reading. “We’re paying ₹11,000 to install and ₹4,600 every year to renew, and still using fixed rates,” said a driver in Candolim. “No tourist asks for meters, and even if they do, they will go to someone else if you start the meter.”

A driver from Vasco said, “If you don’t pay the renewal fee, you don’t get your permit renewed. So we are forced to pay. It’s a racket.”

Meanwhile, passengers and tourism bodies have pointed out that the promise of transparent fares remains unfulfilled. Travel advisories still caution tourists to “negotiate fares in advance” despite the existence of meters. Several hotel operators say they prefer to book taxis through private contacts to avoid disputes.

The government claims monitoring is carried out via the Imagine Panaji Smart City Development Ltd Command Centre at Altinho, where GPS and panic button signals are received. But no periodic reports or compliance dashboards are available to show how many meters are online or if panic buttons have been tested in live conditions. An RTI applicant who requested this data was told in a reply that “the control room maintains data for internal purposes,” but no public interface exists.

A senior Transport Department official, speaking anonymously, acknowledged that enforcement is a “work in progress” and that resource constraints make 100% compliance challenging. Yet the department continues to collect renewals and issue reminders to taxi operators to pay fees on time.

What’s even more worrying to many stakeholders is the lack of transparency about the vendor contracts themselves. Neither the tender documents nor the service-level agreements have been proactively published. Activists say this secrecy fuels suspicion about whether the vendors are delivering on the contract, and why penalties for non-compliance are never announced.

Despite repeated questions in the Assembly and press conferences, no policy changes have been announced. Renewal fees remain mandatory. Taxi permits remain linked to annual payments. Enforcement remains sporadic.

Meanwhile, the towel remains.

It covers not just a meter, but the uncomfortable reality that Goa’s much-promoted taxi meter policy has become an expensive ritual, generating steady revenue streams while failing in its stated purpose. It is a scheme paid for by drivers, ignored by users, and protected by silence.

Michael Lobo’s demand for a public explanation—of where the meter money is going, who is benefiting from it, and why enforcement is missing—is not just a political provocation. It is a question every taxi driver and taxpayer in Goa has the right to ask.

If the government insists on collecting crores under the promise of transparency, it owes the public a clear answer: why does a towel still cover every meter? And why does the system still look like a bigger scam hiding in plain sight?