By Pradeep Padgaonkar
Welcome to Goa — land of sunshine, susegad, and potholes so deep they deserve their own pin code.
Every monsoon, the state puts on its most thrilling show — The Great Goan Pothole Challenge. The plot is simple: dodge the craters, survive the jerks, and make it home with your spine intact. Bonus points if your vehicle doesn’t develop an emotional bond with the service centre by the end of the week.
While tourists marvel at our beaches and parties, locals are busy perfecting the art of pothole slalom. The real tragedy? This isn’t a joke. Lives are being lost. Two-wheelers skid, children fall, and ambulances get stuck in traffic caused by — you guessed it — roads that look like a failed archaeology dig.
But why does this keep happening, year after year? Simple. Those responsible for fixing the roads don’t actually use them. The Chief Minister cruises along in a Fortuner with a suspension so smooth he probably thinks Goa’s roads are Switzerland-level silky. Ministers and MLAs follow closely, tucked in their government-funded SUVs or personal Range Rovers — the kind bought with loans from the Goa Legislative Assembly at 2% interest. A deal so sweet, even sugar feels jealous. Of course, it’s taxpayers who fund that luxury, while also paying with broken bones and busted tyres.
For the aam aadmi, though, it’s a daily game of Snakes and Craters. Except, instead of losing points, you lose wheels. And maybe a limb.
Let’s not pretend this is a new phenomenon. Governments may change colour like the Goan sunset, but the roads remain loyally bad. Promises are made — “Concrete roads coming soon!” they say. What we get is more patchwork than a grandmother’s quilt, only far less reliable. One rain, and the patches vanish like election-time humility.
What follows every accident is the usual rinse-and-repeat drama. A condolence tweet, some lip service about ‘taking the matter seriously’, and a few speed bumps as if potholes weren’t enough. Accountability? That’s as rare as a working streetlight during a power cut.
And here’s the kicker: No one ever gets punished. Not the contractor who laid the tarmac with biscuit dough, not the PWD engineer who signed off without a visit, and certainly not the minister whose biggest worry is whether his convoy gets delayed by 30 seconds.
We, the people, are left to crowdsource solutions. Social media floods with angry videos, memes, and GPS coordinates of the worst potholes. Someone even named one after a politician — poetic justice on a budget.
If Goa truly wants to fix its roads, the first step is not just bitumen and bulldozers, but political will. Start with a road audit, name and shame bad contractors, and maybe — just maybe — make every MLA drive a two-wheeler for a week.
Until then, buckle up (if your seatbelt isn’t jammed), switch on Google Maps (avoid “crater zones”), and pray your bones don’t rattle loose.
After all, smooth rides are for Fortuners, Range Rovers and swanky cars. The rest of us? We’re just trying to stay afloat – one pothole at a time.
