MAPUSA
A cloud of fear looms over its residents in Siolim-Marna as they grapple with the ramifications of a road widening project that has spiralled into a frenzy of illegal activities.
The once tranquil village is now a battleground where silence prevails, and dissent is quashed under the weight of intimidation and coercion.
Since the commencement of the road widening project in March, a sense of dread has settled over the community, as individuals find themselves forced to relinquish their land without due process.
Despite lacking official documentation or compensation figures, residents have been coerced into compliance, their resistance crushed under the threat of retribution.
One voice, however, dared to defy the prevailing atmosphere of fear.
Alba Sequeira, a resident of Bamonvaddo, Siolim, stood as a lone beacon of courage amidst the prevailing silence.
In her complaint to the Anjuna Police, Sequeira detailed how a PWD engineer, accompanied by a local panchayat member, brazenly trespassed onto her property, felling two young coconut trees without authorization.
Her plea for justice echoed through the corridors of power, challenging the impunity that shrouded the project.
Sequeira's defiance shed light on a broader pattern of abuse and exploitation. She had previously alerted the Executive Engineer of PWD to attempts to coerce her into surrendering her land for the road widening endeavour.
“I am not scared of anyone. We all die once. I fight for my right,” Sequeira told this correspondent.
In a village where silence reigned supreme, her actions were a testament to the resilience of the individual against institutional tyranny.
Despite the High Court's intervention, issuing directives to halt tree felling, the spectre of fear loomed large, stifling dissent and suppressing opposition.
Many residents, like Rohan Nagvenkar (name changed), grappled with the dilemma of standing up against injustice in isolation.
Nagvenkar's willingness to pursue legal recourse was thwarted by the reluctance of his neighbours to join forces, underscoring the pervasive climate of fear that permeated Siolim.
“I asked some of my neighbours about the plan to approach the court but nobody wanted to join. People were not willing to come forward only because a VIP was involved,” Nagvenkar said.
The coercion and intimidation did not stop at land acquisition; it extended to the demolition of private property (compound walls) and the desecration of age-old trees.
Aaron Fernandes, a petitioner who filed a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) against the illegal tree cutting, shed light on the insidious tactics employed by those in power.
“Those welding the power moved house to house warning people to part away with three meters of land if not they would have to forgo 10 metres for the project in a legal way,” Fernandes said.
Threats of forced land acquisition hung like a sword of Damocles over the residents, compelling acquiescence through intimidation and coercion.
As Siolim grapples with the fallout of unchecked power and institutional malfeasance, the silence of its residents reverberates louder than the roar of bulldozers and the crash of falling trees.
