“Scrapyards are inherently hazardous spaces. They store discarded vehicles, machinery, tyres, plastics, cables, oils and chemicals. When regulated, they operate with clear zoning, fire safety measures, pollution controls and buffer zones. When illegal, as many are in Goa, they become uncontrolled dumps of combustible and toxic material. Fires are no longer rare accidents. They are predictable outcomes. Each blaze releases thick, poisonous smoke that travels far beyond the scrapyard walls, entering homes, schools and fields. The damage does not end when the flames are doused. The toxins linger in the air, soil and water.”
Illegal scrapyards have become one of Goa’s most dangerous open secrets. Tucked away behind tin sheets, coconut groves and half-developed plots, they continue to mushroom across villages and industrial fringes with alarming ease. Periodic demolitions and sealing drives create the illusion of action, but on the ground, little changes. For residents living next door to these operations, the threat is constant and growing. What Goa is witnessing is not just poor regulation of waste and scrap, but a slow-burning disaster waiting for a spark.
Scrapyards are inherently hazardous spaces. They store discarded vehicles, machinery, tyres, plastics, cables, oils and chemicals. When regulated, they operate with clear zoning, fire safety measures, pollution controls and buffer zones. When illegal, as many are in Goa, they become uncontrolled dumps of combustible and toxic material. Fires are no longer rare accidents. They are predictable outcomes. Each blaze releases thick, poisonous smoke that travels far beyond the scrapyard walls, entering homes, schools and fields. The damage does not end when the flames are doused. The toxins linger in the air, soil and water.
What makes the situation more disturbing is how close these scrapyards are to residential areas. In several villages, they operate barely a few metres from houses, temples and farms. Children play nearby. Elderly residents breathe in fumes from routine burning of wires and waste. Emergency access is poor, often blocked by narrow roads and illegal structures. If a major fire breaks out, evacuation becomes chaotic and dangerous. The question is not whether a serious incident will occur, but when.
The problem is not a lack of laws. Goa has environmental regulations, fire safety norms and local body permissions that clearly define what is allowed and where. The problem is enforcement. Illegal scrapyards thrive because inspections are irregular, notices are ignored and penalties are weak. Operators know that even if action is taken, it is often delayed by appeals, paperwork and jurisdictional confusion. By the time one yard is demolished, two more have sprung up elsewhere.
This failure has consequences beyond immediate safety. Illegal scrapyards distort land use patterns, degrade agricultural land and pollute water sources. They turn village commons and private plots into industrial dumping grounds. Over time, they normalise environmental damage. Residents begin to accept smoke-filled mornings and the constant fear of fire as part of daily life. That resignation is perhaps the most dangerous outcome of all.
There is also an uncomfortable economic reality at play. Scrap is profitable. Landowners earn easy rent. Operators save money by avoiding compliance costs. Local bodies, stretched thin and wary of confrontation, often look the other way. In this ecosystem, the public interest is the weakest voice. Complaints are filed, protests held, but sustained action remains elusive.
For a state that markets itself as green, clean and sustainable, this contradiction is stark. Tourism slogans and environmental speeches ring hollow when entire neighbourhoods live next to unregulated scrap dumps. Goa cannot claim environmental stewardship while allowing such hazards to persist in plain sight.
What is needed now is not cosmetic action but structural reform. The state must clearly identify zones where scrapyards are permitted and enforce zero tolerance elsewhere. Illegal operations should be shut down swiftly, not allowed to linger through endless legal manoeuvres. Fire safety and pollution clearances must be non-negotiable, not optional paperwork. Panchayats and municipalities need both authority and accountability, backed by state agencies that act decisively.
Equally important is transparency. The public should know where scrapyards are allowed, who is licensed, and what safety measures are in place. Sunlight remains the best disinfectant for regulatory apathy.
Illegal scrapyards are not a marginal issue. They are a daily threat to health, safety and the environment. Every fire, every plume of toxic smoke, is a warning. Goa can choose to heed it now or wait for a catastrophe that will force action too late. The ticking has already begun.
