“But the issue is not only about infrastructure. It is about the very character of the village. The flats being built are priced far beyond what the average Goan can afford. They are designed for buyers from outside the state who view Goa as an investment opportunity or a second home. For villagers, this is a matter of cultural survival. If outsiders buy up the majority of new housing, locals risk being outnumbered in their own land. The sense of community, the intimacy of village life, and the traditions that give Orlim its identity will be eroded. To dismiss these concerns as parochial would be wrong. It is not xenophobia; it is the rational fear of being displaced economically and socially from one’s own birthplace.”
The people of Orlim are angry, and they are right to be. Their panchayat continues to approve new housing projects even as the village struggles with the most basic of necessities. This is not development; it is reckless expansion at the cost of a community that is already stretched thin. The result is predictable: more strain on water, more frequent power cuts, more garbage piling up, and roads that cannot cope with additional traffic. For villagers who live this reality every day, watching fresh multi-dwelling complexes come up is nothing short of insulting.
Goa’s infrastructure is already buckling. In Orlim and elsewhere, water does not flow regularly from taps. Electricity supply remains inconsistent, and garbage disposal is an unresolved problem that leaves villages unsanitary. Roads that were designed for small populations are cratered and inadequate for the rising number of vehicles. Yet, in this environment of scarcity, projects that will house hundreds more residents are being given the green light. Nobody has explained how these developments will be serviced. Nobody has provided a plan for how much more water will be required or where it will come from. The truth is simple: it does not exist. This is why the people of Orlim are demanding that all construction be paused until a proper carrying capacity study is conducted.
But the issue is not only about infrastructure. It is about the very character of the village. The flats being built are priced far beyond what the average Goan can afford. They are designed for buyers from outside the state who view Goa as an investment opportunity or a second home. For villagers, this is a matter of cultural survival. If outsiders buy up the majority of new housing, locals risk being outnumbered in their own land. The sense of community, the intimacy of village life, and the traditions that give Orlim its identity will be eroded. To dismiss these concerns as parochial would be wrong. It is not xenophobia; it is the rational fear of being displaced economically and socially from one’s own birthplace.
The environment too is under threat. Goa’s villages are sustained by fragile ecosystems: wells, springs, and aquifers that have provided water for generations. Large construction projects interfere with groundwater recharge, block natural drainage, and cause soil erosion. Residents across the state have already seen heritage springs run dry and trees cut without permission. Once destroyed, these natural assets cannot be replaced. Orlim’s opposition is not just about comfort and convenience; it is about survival in a landscape where water scarcity is worsening each year.
To make matters worse, the process itself is stacked against villagers. The panchayat may pass resolutions, but the Town and Country Planning department ultimately decides. Projects often get technical clearance even when there are no approvals from the departments responsible for water and power. This is nothing less than a deliberate sidestepping of checks and balances. It is no wonder people feel betrayed and believe that their elected representatives are powerless against the nexus of politicians and builders.
The larger question here is stark: who is this development for? It is certainly not for the people of Orlim, who cannot afford the flats and who will be left with even more shortages once they are built. It is not for young Goans trying to find housing near their families, who are priced out of their own villages. The only beneficiaries are developers who profit from land speculation and buyers who have no stake in the long-term well-being of the village. For the locals, the supposed progress brings nothing but decline in quality of life.
What Orlim is asking for is not unreasonable. It is not anti-development. It is a call for sanity, for the state to stop and assess how much the land and the people can take before approving more concrete. A carrying capacity study is the bare minimum, not an obstruction. Those who dismiss these protests as emotional should instead recognize them as deeply rational and necessary.
Goa is not infinite. Its land, water, and culture are finite, and once lost, they will not return. The villagers of Orlim understand this better than anyone. Their resistance is not nostalgia, it is foresight. If the government ignores them, it will not just be failing Orlim, it will be failing the very future of Goa.
