https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/goa/sewage-crisis-in-goas-very-own-smart-city/articleshow/62301337.cms
Take a wrong turn in the casuarina groves lining Miramar beach early in the morning, or during peak tourist hours near sunset, and you could be surprised with a rude twenty-one bum salute. In the past few years, the vegetation has sunk to serving as public toilet and all-purpose garbage dump. Long stretches reek of waste, despite the steady cleansing breezes from the waterfront. In the evenings, when the tourist boats unload raucous hordes of domestic tourists directly onto the sands, many disembark to head directly towards the greenery to urinate in plain view of passers-by. Try to make enquiries as to who is to blame for the trashing of Miramar, and the result is an endless circle jerk of finger-pointing. The CCP says it is not responsible for the beach, as it is the tourism department's problem. The tourism department says the Captain of Ports is the one who gave permission for the shockingly unregulated excursion boats to ply from Miramar, despite there being no oversight and zero infrastructure to handle the crowds. The Captain of Ports says its job is merely to grant access via the river to the operators, not to consider mundane matters like adequate toilets or even adherence to safety procedures. And so the blame-game continues pointlessly, even as disaster and chaos unfolds anew each day. The mismanagement of Miramar is only one small part of the paradoxical tragedy of Panaji, even as the tiny riverside city prepares to celebrate its 175th anniversary in 2018. By any statistical measure, the state capital is extraordinarily blessed with extremely high GDP, education, and life expectancy by Indian standards. But on the other hand, its residents have seen their quality of life decline in the new millennium, particularly accelerating after 2010. Even while the city has risen to national and international significance as a cultural capital, it has become ever dirtier, more congested and increasingly unhealthy. Last year, at exactly this time, the Goa State Pollution Control Board (GSPCB) warned that highly destructive particulate matter in the air regularly crosses four times the permissible national limits in December. Recently, the GSPCB was again the bearer of bad news when it confirmed the iconic Mandovi river is now befouled with especially alarming levels of faecal coliform caused by raw sewage. Whereas the Central Pollution Control Board considers 100 MPN (most probable number) per 100ml, the readings from the Mandovi skyrocketed to 13,200MPN. This is so unsafe that you are advised not to enter the water under any circumstances. Yet, city authorities are blithely unconcerned. When danger signs appeared in 2014, long-time city MLA Manohar Parrikar said, "Mandovi water is safe for drinking," and promised, "within 1-2 years, most areas will be connected to an operational sewerage system." Fast-forward to 2017, and the only new sewer in Panaji is the sands of Miramar. Deeply entrenched city problems are not exclusive to Goa, or even India. While it is true the subcontinent handles urbanism unusually badly, there are some exceptions. The great irony amid today's Smart City hype is that Panaji was always one of these exceptions. Just like Chandigarh in the 1950's, much of the endlessly charming and pleasant 'Nova Goa' was rigorously planned and engineered with best contemporary practices by newly assertive native elites a full century earlier. It was the first city in the subcontinent built on a grid, with broad pavements, and well-planned drainage and sanitation. These are the fundamentals of intelligent city design and execution, not hairbrained schemes to blanket the safest city in India with unbelievably expensive surveillance cameras. What good is space age technology and thousands of crores of scam infrastructure, when the most basic human needs remain glaringly unaddressed in Goa? Along with the GSPCB findings on the Mandovi, there was even more depressing news about the state that came this week in response to a question in the Lok Sabha. The government said there were only three states in the entire country that did not have a single open defecation-free village: Bihar, Manipur and Goa (there were three Union Territories as well). This is part of an abysmal national landscape, but the figures for India's smallest state stand out as particularly shameful, because there is no reason at all this situation persists, except for lack of political will and terribly misplaced priorities
