Team Herald
MARGAO: In a glaring display of institutional apathy, the residents of Primeirovaddo in Velsao find themselves betrayed by the authorities sworn to protect their rights.
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As construction machinery roars in their ancestral lands and trucks dump material near their heritage homes, these villagers have exhausted themselves running
from police stations to government offices, from courts to panchayats, only to watch helplessly as each authority systematically fails them. Their crime? Attempting to protect the land they’ve
legally owned and accessed for over two centuries from railway construction that proceeds without clear ownership documents.
The depth of this institutional betrayal was laid bare again on Thursday in a series of events that saw officials repeatedly backtrack on their own
assurances.
The morning began with Rail Vikas Nigam Limited (RVNL) attempting to resume construction work, despite ongoing court cases and the locals’
desperate pleas.
When villagers formed human shields to protect their land, they found themselves facing not just construction machinery but also an increasingly large police force—the same law enforcement meant to protect their rights.
“We weren’t even allowed to enter our own homes,” said one resident, highlighting the surreal situation where authorities were effectively barring citizens from accessing their own property.
“Authorities used brute police force to subdue the local villagers of Velsao,” another resident added in anger.
The morning confrontation reached a critical point when the Verna PI, upon questioning RVNL officials, discovered they couldn’t produce the land title ownership documents. This led to a temporary halt in construction around 1.30 pm, following intervention from Leader of Opposition (LoP) Yuri Alemao, who spoke to the PI on the phone.
Yet, in what locals describe as a cruel joke, the authorities’ word proved worthless. Despite police assurances that no further work would be conducted that day, RVNL brazenly resumed operations at 4 pm, dumping two truckloads of material in front of the residence of Sandra Rodrigues—this time with full police protection.
Incidentally, Sandra has filed complaints to all the authorities, including the police, seeking justice and relief.
The human cost of this bureaucratic maze is perhaps best illustrated by the tragedy that befell the Rodrigues family.
Orville Dourado Rodrigues, Founder of Goencho Ekvott (GE) said, “The very tragic part is that Sandra’s ailing father, Agostinho Diniz, was residing with her, and about eight days ago, since he could not bear all the commotion outside their residence, she relocated him to her sister’s place in Margao, where he eventually passed away six days ago! This gentleman was in love with Velsao and died a crestfallen, humble human being. And instead of mourning the demise of their parent, the family is literally on the road battling it out with the authorities. What can be more tragic than this?”
He said, “Instead of mourning their parent’s death, the family finds themselves literally on the road battling authorities. What could be more tragic than this?”
Locals added that the pattern of institutional failure runs deep.
First, there was the South Goa Additional Collector, who recently withdrew a stop work order on technical grounds regarding the unknown identity of the respondent—while simultaneously acknowledging RVNL’s response to the notice.
Then there was the local police force, who, rather than investigating the legitimacy of land ownership claims, are standing guard as RVNL continues its work.
Even as locals wave court documents showing pending cases—with hearings scheduled for February 17, 2025, at both the Inspector of Survey and Land Records (ISLR) Court and the District Court in Margao—construction proceeds unabated.
“Are we fools?” questioned one resident, their voice heavy with the exhaustion of fighting a system that seems rigged against them. While RVNL claims superseding authority under Section 11 of the Railways Act, 1989, locals brandish their land ownership documents and two centuries of history, only to find their evidence ignored by those in power.
Meanwhile, the Velsao-Pale-Issorcim Village Panchayat has stood firm, arguing that blocking motorable access to villagers’ houses constitutes a human rights violation. However, their stop work order, like many other official protests, appears to carry little weight against the railway authorities’ determination to proceed.
As evening fell on Velsao, the community that has called this land home for generations watched in despair as more construction material was dumped near their homes. Their fight continues, but with each passing day, their faith in the system meant to protect them erodes further, replaced by the bitter realisation that justice seems to favour those with power rather than those with proof.
