Fifteen days ago, torrential rains lashed our State, leaving behind a trail of destruction. Trees uprooted, homes washed away, streets flooded, and agriculture crippled. In many cities, dug-up roads became channels of stagnant water, halting daily life. Amid this chaos, one truth became glaringly evident: our disaster management system is not just inadequate; it is slow and reactive.
And while we grapple with the aftermath of the first rains; knowing well that over 90% of the rain is yet to arrive, we stand on the brink of another, far deadlier disaster. One that looms not in the skies, but in plain sight: the crumbling, neglected buildings across our cities, especially in Panjim and Margao.
Recent incidents in Margao should serve as a loud wake-up call. In just one week, slabs collapsed from two different buildings. One near Gandhi Market and another in the Cine Lata area. Thankfully, there were no casualties, but damaged vehicles and shattered glass offer only a glimpse of what could easily have been a mass tragedy. In another close call, a boy narrowly escaped injury when a large part of a balcony crashed down near Wardali Road. How many more warnings do we need?
The old Antao building continues to house active shops and remains a shelter for many during the monsoon. Its condition? Critically unsafe. Yet it stands, occupied and unbarricaded. Another blaze broke out last month in Dawood Chawl, Khareband, forcing residents to flee. Are we seriously waiting for a headline that reads, “Scores buried under rubble”?
Let’s be clear: this is not a sudden crisis. It’s an old story on repeat. Four years ago, a structure near Gandhi Market partially collapsed and was sealed; demolished only last year. The list of dangerous buildings in Margao alone touches 30 compiled over the last 13 years. Panjim fares no better. Just days ago, the Municipal Corporation issued an emergency evacuation order for the crumbling Falcon building. Even so, legal delays are dragging the process while residents remain in harm’s way.
It is no longer enough to blame the rain, or fate, or time. This is a man-made crisis fuelled by bureaucratic inertia, neglectful ownership, and a society that refuses to act before it is too late.
We must ask ourselves some hard questions: Why are people still living and working in structures that could collapse at any moment? Why are court cases and procedural delays prioritised over human lives? Why, despite repeated surveys, notices, and warnings, has so little action been taken? Why is the same outdated list of dangerous buildings still being recycled by civic authorities year after year?
The answer lies in a toxic pattern of complacency. The authorities serve notices, but rarely enforce them. Building owners ignore warnings, betting on time and luck. Meanwhile, citizens, some by necessity, others by habit, occupy these spaces, unaware or desensitised to the risk. It’s a collective failure that could cost us dearly.
In cities like Margao, many old buildings from the Portuguese era still stand. While some have been carefully maintained, others have been left to rot. Time bombs ticking in silence. Some are heritage structures, now on the verge of collapse due to years of neglect. And with every passing monsoon, the risks multiply.
Let us be very clear: we are not dealing with hypothetical scenarios. We are staring at a preventable catastrophe. These buildings will not wait for our systems to catch up. The rains will not pause for paperwork or petitions. Unless firm, immediate steps are taken, the next collapse will not be a near-miss; it will be a disaster.
The authorities must act now. Dangerous buildings should be evacuated without delay. Structural audits must be conducted afresh; not based on decade-old data. Owners must be held accountable. And if need be, lives must be prioritised over legacy, legality, or property disputes.
We cannot afford another monsoon of regret. This time, let us not wait for death to shake us out of our apathy. Let us prevent the headline. Let us save lives.