
Sun Seeking Brits Get the Heat in Goa
Silver sand beaches, glistening emerald palm trees, white baroque churches... In the Sixties, it was backpackers who came to Goa, the former Portuguese colony in southern India. More recently, it is fiftysomethings who have come looking for a restored 18th-century villa or something more modest to call a second home. It's the dream sold on shows like A Place in the Sun.
But many Brits are now wishing they'd found paradise in Tuscany or Provence instead. The state government has launched a crackdown on foreigners buying land in Goa, and up to 500 expats face having their homes confiscated and sold at auction if they, or their advisers, are found to have done anything remotely irregular. "It's like being in quicksand," one resident told me. "Every day you just seem to sink in deeper."
The fix they're in, most agree, has come about because the Goan government wants to ban big property investors, from Mumbai to Moscow, whose sprawling resort complexes have blighted a once tranquil coast in recent years. But while proud locals, eager to preserve the distinctive culture of the area, support the restrictions on wealthy outsiders, one British resident lamented: "We sadly seem to have been somehow tarred with the same brush."
He and his wife bought a piece of land near Calangute three years ago via a local builder, who then built them a spacious villa with high, airy rooms. The building cost £80,000, and the couple reckon they've contributed tens of thousands more to the local economy getting it decorated. But they never actually possessed the deeds. These remain with the builder, pending registration. Under the crackdown, registration could easily be refused.
Like every expat purchaser I met, they took legal advice from a highly respected firm of Goan advocates before proceeding with the purchase. However, according to Anupam Kishore, the Goan government official who has identified all the 'irregularities' in property purchases, virtually every local lawyer has somehow failed to interpret the relevant Act - called FEMA - correctly. "That could well mean they have their houses confiscated," he told me bluntly. "And whatever happens, it is definitely not the time to be buying property here if you're a foreigner".
So why then, not far from his offices in the government buildings, are several UK-based estate agents still going on as if nothing has happened? While showing me around several developments where apartments start at around £70,000, the estate agents touted the line that I should register a business in Goa, and then list the property as a business asset rather than a holiday or retirement home. As one enthusiastic finance director at a well-known British firm advised: "You can even put your hotel and restaurant bills through the company accounts."
Feigning incredulity, I was then introduced to a prominent Goan lawyer whose office nameplate boasts that he's an Advocate of the Supreme Court. "But I won't be running a business," I said. "I know that, and you know that. It'll be just a lie, won't it?"
"Yes," he replied, "but that's the way it's done."
So maybe the Indian authorities do have a point - hundreds of properties have been purchased via a legalistic sleight-of-hand. But for genuine buyers, who didn't take such devious routes, the future is still a quagmire.
John Waite presents 'Face the Facts - Trouble in Paradise' on Radio 4, July 18, 12.30pm
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A friend of mine married a Goan so he could buy a house. Whenever he goes abroad, his wife allows her boyfriend and all of her relatives to live in the house.