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23 August 2024 at 9:59:04 pm

Legal Weapon

The death of Sahil Wakode at IIT Bombay is undoubtedly a tragic incident. It also raises a difficult question that should not be lost amid the understandable anger on campus: when does a genuine allegation of caste discrimination become a criminal charge, and what happens when the extraordinary force of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act is invoked before the facts have been established? Wakode, a second-year student, died by suicide last week, hours after he was caught using a mobile...

Legal Weapon

The death of Sahil Wakode at IIT Bombay is undoubtedly a tragic incident. It also raises a difficult question that should not be lost amid the understandable anger on campus: when does a genuine allegation of caste discrimination become a criminal charge, and what happens when the extraordinary force of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act is invoked before the facts have been established? Wakode, a second-year student, died by suicide last week, hours after he was caught using a mobile phone during an examination. IIT Bombay says he had uploaded the question paper to ChatGPT, but that no disciplinary proceedings had been initiated against him. He was counselled and assured that the incident would not damage his academic career. His parents have subsequently alleged that Wakode had been subjected to caste-based harassment for several months and named Professor Suryanarayana Doolla in an FIR alleging abetment to suicide, along with provisions of the SC/ST Act. The institute has denied that any complaint of caste discrimination was made by Wakode during his tenure. Its SC/ST cell has also said it received no such complaint. The investigation has now been transferred to the Crime Branch. The SC/ST Act exists because caste oppression is real, and victims require a law capable of confronting it. But precisely because the law is stringent, its invocation cannot become a substitute for evidence. The Supreme Court has repeatedly emphasised that the statutory ingredients of an offence must actually be made out. The court has also held that where a complaint does not prima facie disclose an offence under the Act, its stringent restrictions on pre-arrest bail do not automatically apply. Teachers must be able to enforce examination rules without fearing that every disciplinary confrontation could acquire a caste dimension. The tendency to turn a student’s caste into the explanation for every institutional conflict involving an SC/ST student is disturbing and must be resisted. If every disciplinary action involving a reserved-category student is presumed to be caste discrimination, the distinction between discrimination and ordinary institutional accountability begins to disappear. Equally, an institute cannot hide behind procedure if evidence eventually establishes discrimination or harassment. If Professor Doolla did indeed use casteist language, threatened Wakode or treated him differently because of his caste, those allegations must be investigated fully and dealt with under the law. But the answer cannot be to criminalise the invigilator first and investigate later. IIT Bombay now has two obligations: establish, without prejudice, what happened in those crucial hours and examine the broader pressures facing its students. The police must establish whether the allegations under the SC/ST Act have factual and legal substance. The institute must ensure that teachers can enforce academic integrity while students have credible avenues to report genuine discrimination. The tragedy demands accountability. It does not demand a predetermined culprit.

Selling Goa, Piece by Piece

Pearl Noronha
Apr 30
3 min read

What nature takes centuries to build can be destroyed in years and once lost, it is rarely recovered.

If you think the battle for land belongs to history, think again. In ancient times, kingdoms and nations fought wars over territory because land meant power, survival, wealth and control. That struggle has not disappeared; it has simply changed form. In Goa, the fight for land continues without armies or swords. Today, paperwork, zoning changes, permissions, speculative deals and luxury developments have become the new weapons. What was once seized by force is now often taken through approvals, conversions and concrete.


Goa has long been both a magnet for conquerors and a refuge for those seeking peace. Across centuries, different cultures have called this land home, drawn not just by its strategic value but also by its seashores, green hills, rivers, flora and fauna. These are not empty stretches of land waiting to be turned into plots. They are part of what makes Goa what it is. At a time when climate stress is no longer a distant concern, such landscapes matter more than ever. Forests, fields, rivers and hills are not disposable spaces, but vital ecological assets that help protect against heat, flooding, erosion and environmental decline.


Goa is not the holiday capital of India by accident. Its appeal lies in its small historic homes, low-rise residences, open spaces, green rolling hills and, above all, in the fact that it does not resemble the concrete-heavy urban landscapes many seek to escape. Goa’s charm lies in its difference. Yet that very difference is now under threat. In the name of development, the state is being pushed towards the same model of overbuilding that has diminished so many other places. This may be marketed as progress, but too often it looks more like destruction in slow motion. The real question is whether we are building for the needs of Goa’s people, or for a second-home market driven by wealth, prestige and speculation.


Development in Goa should first serve the people who live there. But much of what is being built today seems aimed less at local housing needs and more at a second-home market driven by investment, prestige and short-term rental returns. Many of these homes stay shut for much of the year, existing more as assets than as part of a real community.


The ecological cost, however, is constant: land is consumed, trees are cut, concrete spreads, and precious water is drawn into projects that add little to Goa’s daily life. A luxury home that remains locked for most of the year may flatter its owner, but it does not justify the burden it places on the land and resources around it. In recent years, Goa’s much-debated ‘16B conversions’ have come to represent a wider problem: land once valued for its ecological or agricultural role can be rapidly reclassified as real estate.


For many residents of Goa, these are not abstract concerns but everyday realities: power cuts, water shortages and the steady inconvenience of weak civic planning. These are not rare disruptions but a routine part of life in far too many areas. Public transport remains sparse and unreliable, while pedestrian infrastructure is so neglected that pavements often feel like an afterthought. In many places, even a short walk can be unsafe, pushing households towards two-wheelers for the most basic errands. If the government is already struggling to provide essential services and safe mobility to existing residents, on what basis does it justify approving developments that place even greater strain on already stretched resources?


The government should not treat Goa’s land as something to be sold off in the name of development. Its job is to protect what makes this state worth living in. We are only custodians of this land, not its permanent owners. What we erase in one generation may be impossible for the next to recover. Goa does need to grow and improve, but that growth must respect the limits of its water, its roads, its green spaces and the character that makes it unlike anywhere else. No one is asking for Goa to remain frozen in time. But it should not be turned into another overbuilt city that loses its soul in the process. Goa must become a better Goa, not a poorer version of the places people came here to escape.

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