How do you manage to develop a blind spot for a ship—all 20,000 tonnes of rusting metal? Ask the Goa government.
For nearly four years, it has managed to do just that with River Princess. It is wedged in one of the world’s most popular stretches of white sand near Fort Aguada in north Goa. From the bustling lobby of Taj Aguada where Preity Zinta is checking out, to the last sunbed on trendy Baga—the ship is a monstrous blot on the blue Arabian Sea, changing the topography of the beach. And the government has successfully managed to look the other way.
It happened one stormy night in the monsoon of 2000. The ship broke its anchor and drifted north, ripped its bottom over the rocks, damaged its hull and came to rest off Sinquerim beach.
From then on the government has been standing eyeball to eyeball with its owner, Anil Salgaoncar, one of the three most influential names in the state. And he hasn’t backed off.
The issue? Money. The government says the owner wants to get the ship cut right there, so that he doesn’t have to pay the towing cost of Rs 7 crore, and sell the scrap for Rs 16 to 20 crore.
Salgaoncar says the government wants to invite the impossible task of towing it away so that they can make money from tenders to international agencies. The government has, meanwhile, made flamboyant promises, introduced a new law to move the ship, to own it, fought hundreds of hours in the brightly painted courthouses of Panjim with the owner’s lawyers and got a ruling to remove the ship nine months ago.
And the River Princess has not moved.
It could have been pulled out in 2000, say experts, but it is a tough job now. There may be no choice but to cut it up, with chances that it will kill the beach from anything between a year to 50 years (see box).
This is bad news for the Goa government which is patting itself on the back for bringing in two million tourists this year.
What’s been damaged
so far |
|||||
• The oil leak in 2000 ruined the beach for an entire season |
|||||
What caused the delay?
• Environment minister Atanasio Monserrate says over phone: ‘‘It is not an environment problem now. It’s a hotel problem. Please speak to the tourism minister.’’
• The man in charge of the ship’s fate has presence. Mickky Pacheco, 39, minister of Tourism and Captain of Ports, wears a classic goatee and drives around in a black Mercedes. He has businesses in the fashion industry, real estate, travel and tourism spread across Paris, NY, Florida and is being congratulated over a victory by a football club he owns.
He took over in June 2002 and promised to move the ship in a matter of days. ‘‘But the matter is in court.’’
He blames the earlier government. But he has had the go-ahead from the court since nine months to move the ship. He hasn’t even shortlisted the agency that will salvage the ship.
‘‘In a month there should be a plan. Before May we will move the ship.’’
‘What about Govt responsibility?’
|
|||||
• Claude Alvares, director of the Goa |
|||||
He announced on Wednesday in the Assembly that tenders would be floated in two-three days.
• Three years ago, Manohar Parrikar, an IIT product and said to be the most effective chief minister of Goa, made his tallest promise of moving it. Today, before rushing in for his Assembly session across the Mandovi river, he laughs at the idea that the ship is affecting tourism: ‘‘Not at all. I need more time to find the right agency…I am a metallurgist, I know. The sea has enough iron ore. It’s an eyesore and I even have a person offering to paint it. The shoreline is fine, it can wait beyond the monsoon.”
Is the government cowed by Salgaoncar? He shakes his head: ‘‘I keep meeting him.”
• Anil Salgaoncar (62) is at the helm of an empire of real estate, shipping and mining. ‘‘The ship is very big. Under the garb of pollution, people are out to grab an opportunity to make money.’’ The only solution to River Princess, according to Salgaoncar, is to cut it up into big pieces, put it in a barge, build a pontoon to the shore and then take it away.
He is upset he’s reportedly stopped giving his annual donation to the Sangh Parivar. ‘‘I will sue them for damages.’’ Why did he not just move it in 2000? ‘‘First the bad weather, then the court battles. It became the imagination of the Goa government to be refloated and be towed away—an impossible task.”
What about the pollution? ‘‘Nothing. Steel cuttings sink into the sea. I need six months to cut it up.’’
Tourism? ‘‘It has become a tourist place. Everyone who comes to Goa, must see it.’’
‘We talk about it in England,’’ says Peter Hunter, a cabbie on an annual break. ‘‘I hope to see it next year.’’
And he will. At the time of going to press, the tender the tourism minister promised to float by Saturday had still not been floated. In Goa, the Carnival has begun.