Walk into any village café in Goa on a weekday afternoon, and between the clinking of teacups and the rustling of newspapers, you will hear it: “Hya disani mhaka kam kide mevtale?” (These days, where will I get a job?). It is a question muttered half in frustration, half in resignation by many of Goa’s young people. Our state, with its postcard sunsets and susegad reputation, hides an uncomfortable truth: a growing number of educated youths are unemployed. They are ready to work, willing to work, but doors remain shut.
Goa has one of the highest literacy rates in India. Classrooms are full, degrees hang in living rooms, but the job offers are scarce. For decades, government jobs were the ultimate prize, offering stability and respect. Today, for every post advertised, hundreds apply. A recent clerical job drew more than 800 applications, including engineers. The private sector is not absorbing enough people either.
Tourism, the state’s economic lifeline, provides many jobs, but they are seasonal and concentrated in coastal belts. A receptionist in Calangute might work from October to March, only to be told in April, “Season soplo, tu break ghe” (Season is over, take a break). Mining, once the other big employer, has been halted for years. Thousands who depended on it remain idle, with little retraining or alternative work available.
Even those who find jobs often end up far from their qualifications. Commerce, hospitality, science and engineering graduates take up sales, cafés, call-centres, or night shifts in industrial estates just to earn. Local industries are limited, and automation has further cut opportunities.
Education is part of the problem. Goa’s colleges produce thousands of graduates every year, but not all with market-ready skills. A BBA student may know marketing theory but never run a campaign. Mechanical engineering labs use outdated machines. Hospitality students train on manual systems while hotels use AI tools. This mismatch leaves many struggling at interviews.
The rural–urban divide worsens matters. In Canacona, Sattari, and Pernem, access to training, digital tools, and networks is limited. A youth from Cotigao may want a job in Panjim but cannot afford housing or transport. Women, despite education gains, face added barriers. Many step back due to family duties, safety concerns, commuting distances, or rigid work hours.
Migration is another big chapter. Goans have long travelled to the Gulf, UK, and Portugal. Earlier, it was for better pay. Today, many leave because they feel they have no choice. A young man with a diploma in electrical engineering may choose Dubai over a poorly paid local job with no benefits. While remittances help, this constant outflow weakens Goa’s workforce and economic self-reliance.
The consequences are visible. Economically, Goa underutilises its educated manpower. Socially, prolonged unemployment leads to frustration, loss of confidence, and dependency on parents. You can sense the restlessness in youth clubs where members linger with little to do, at street corners where groups gather aimlessly, in halls where job fairs are crowded but yield few offers.
The challenge is to create jobs that match skills and aspirations. Goa cannot depend forever on tourism and mining. The future must be more diverse. Heritage tourism could offer guided tours of Old Goa, forts, or Panjim’s Latin Quarter. Eco-tourism could thrive with training in trekking, birdwatching, and village stays. Wellness tourism, yoga retreats, ayurveda centres, and healthy cuisine could combine Goa’s hospitality strengths with global demand.
Beyond tourism, Goa could tap the maritime sector, shipping, logistics, and cruise management. Creative industries hold promise, with music, film, and digital content possible if training and infrastructure improve. Agro-processing could also be a game-changer, with cashews, kokum, and chillies turned into branded products for export.
Education reform is crucial. Colleges must partner with industries to design courses that lead directly to employability. Internships should be compulsory and meaningful. Vocational training must be treated as a smart choice, not a fallback. Rural training centres could bridge the gap, offering both traditional trades and modern skills like coding, digital marketing, and e-commerce.
Entrepreneurship also needs support. While Goa has seen a rise in food trucks, clothing brands, and small businesses, many young entrepreneurs still struggle for loans, clearances, and mentorship. State-backed incubators, co-working spaces, and micro-loan schemes could help. Remote work is another option — if youth are trained to use online freelancing platforms, they can earn globally while living in Goa.
Social inclusion is key. Women must have equal access to training and jobs. Rural youth need exposure to opportunities equal to urban peers. Affordable transport, safe work environments, and housing are all part of the puzzle. A mindset shift is also needed — moving beyond dependence on government jobs to accepting private sector, self-employment, and gig work as viable careers.
Ultimately, the story of unemployed youths in Goa is not about laziness. It is about educated and capable individuals caught in a system that has not adapted fast enough. Behind every statistic is a face — a B.Sc graduate from Mapusa who has been to 20 interviews without luck, a mining belt youth retrained as a carpenter but struggling for work, a young woman from Ponda with a master’s degree tutoring children while applying for jobs that never call back.
The susegad image of Goa may look calm, but beneath it runs a current of restlessness. The youth are ready. The question is whether Goa is ready to create the space, skills, and opportunities for them to thrive. If we choose to invest in our young people now, with updated education, diversification, entrepreneurship support, and inclusive policies, we can turn this unemployment crisis into a story of transformation. But if we do not, we risk losing not just a generation of workers, but a generation of ideas, energy, and hope. The future of Goa will be written not just by its tourists and industries, but by the young Goans who either stay to build it, or leave because they cannot.
