The Goa we do not see: How locals are claiming their narratives by revealing the real Goa

“A lot of people come here, including artists, but they don’t make work or engage with Goa in any particular way. As a result, their works do not meet the needs of the hour. A counter was in order and we decided to have a counter voice and say, ‘Hey, this is our story of Goa’,” says Wency Mendes, an independent artist, curator and researcher from Goa, who has conceptualised the project.

18 ways of seeing

‘Goa Water Stories’ covers 18 topics, from the salt pans of Pernem and the ecology of the Western Ghats to the sand bubbler crabs found on the shores of the Goan coastline. One of the subjects is Anjuna Beach, described by “Incredible India” as “a bohemian retreat by the Arabian Sea”.

Researcher Saachi D’Souza, whose family is Goan on her father’s side, returned three years ago to reconnect with her heritage. As someone rediscovering Goa as both home and subject, this project felt like a necessary intervention. It allowed her to ask uncomfortable questions, trace hidden histories and listen to local voices that rarely make it into the headlines. “Anjuna has always held contradictions but those contradictions have deepened. It’s known globally as a party beach but that narrative is incomplete without acknowledging what’s happening to its coastline, biodiversity, and the local communities that live in its shadow,” she says.

In ‘Goa Water Stories’, D’Souza brings alive the history of Anjuna and the ecological price it is paying for development. “If things continue unchecked, the future of Anjuna may be one of ecological loss, cultural erasure and unsustainable pressure on its natural systems. But it doesn’t have to be that way. I’d like to see regulation that truly serves the land and its people — where development is measured, community-informed and ecologically sound. Where access to the beach isn’t determined by how much you spend and where water bodies are cleaned, not just for tourists but for the generations who have lived with them. I want Anjuna to be a place where locals feel a sense of belonging — not displacement — and where memory, identity and ecology are respected as much as aesthetics,” says D’Souza.

Immersive field workshop in the Mhadei Research Centre in the Western Ghats with herpetologist Nirmal Kulkarni

Amisha Shetgaonkar, who works in an NGO, tells the story of another beach, Morjim, which used to be a sacred place meant for rituals or for the use of the fishing community. It was a place where Olive Ridley turtles could roam free, lay eggs and hatch. “Everything is connected here, with one animal affecting the life of another. We are not opposed to tourism but there should be a balance,” she says. Tourism is not only polluting the water but also disturbing its supply. “The water that was meant for locals is being diverted to hotels and resorts. A lot of people are illegally digging borewells,” adds Shetgaonkar.

The storytellers of Goa

The narratives of ‘Goa Water Stories’ are by researchers, NGO workers, artists, architects and self-taught painters, among others. Chayne Lobo, whose grandfather had moved back to Goa from East Africa during the Idi Amin coup, has written evocatively about the land he used to explore as a “junglee” teenager on a cycle with friends. “Socorro, the Criticality of Plateaus” is an eye-opener on the hydrological significance of the plateau, folktales, traditional sustainable practices of the community, the abundance of flora, fauna and migratory bird species as well as the impact of changing land-use patterns on the environment and the livelihoods of people.

“I used to get this bias, where tourists would come up and ask me, ‘Tell me the best places to party, the best clubs to hit or the best bars to check out.’ I said, ‘You are in Goa and I would like to show you a different side altogether.’ Travelling should be about the local experience of a place, understanding what shaped a cultural landscape and how people worked towards creating biodiverse systems,” he says.

A lot of places like Baga, Calangute and Anjuna have been turned into tourist hubs. Lobo says that one would not find a lot of locals hanging out here. “It is quite sad to notice the development that has happened over the years and how the real-estate boom has thinned tree covers. It is primarily because, for us, these places don’t feel like the places that we once knew growing up,” he says.