Fear and Loathing in Goa
In accordance with the prophecy that there are three places which an Indian male ABSOPOSITRESOLUTELY MUST travel to atleast once in his life – Goa, Bangkok and Amsterdam, yours truly set out with a group of friends , one warm summer evening to the only place in the country where someone gives a shit if your name is Siddhartha Mallya. Goa promised us less heat than Gujarat for sure, but in the fine print, it included so much humidity that by the end of the trip our sweat glands were dryer than Zohra Sehgal. Coupled with the fact that we were vegetarian teetotalers, we looked upon this haven of booze and seafood like Digvijay Singh looks at a ‘Sexual Abstinence for the Elderly’ seminar.
Upon reaching Goa, we had to resist the temptation of doing the first thing anyone does in Goa: update “GOAAA!!!!” as their Facebook, WhatsApp and Orkut status. (Yes, such people do still use Orkut). As we set out into town, a couple of things which struck us instantly about the place were firstly, the number of shops selling alcohol and secondly, the number of touts offering taxis, tattoos, bikes etc. These touts were almost as bad as the priests outside temples which hover around you saying ‘Aaj Mangal ka prakop hai. Hum abhishek karva denge’. Dude, when has something named Abhishek led to something good? Have you not seen Dhoom 3?
You would think that teetotalers in Goa are ostracized like shy first-timers at a brothel who just want to talk with the girl for a bit. (Not speaking from personal experience). But, surprisingly, there are some activities on offer which don’t require you to chug down 12 glasses of vodka until you can barely remember what you’re doing in the first place, also known as the Rahul Gandhi Oratory Technique. There are watersports on offer wherein, among other things, you can take a ride on a Banana Boat. It is a boat shaped like a Banana and NOT something Sunny Leone uses when her husband’s out of town. There is also dolphin watching which basically involves sitting in a large boat, sailing out to the open sea and craning your necks until you have arthritis or until you spot a dolphin, whichever occurs first. The people helming the boat keep a sharp watch and whenever they spot a fin or a tail, run after it like Nitin Gadkari when he sees a Samosa shop. We did see a dolphin’s tail and returned from the expedition like those satisfied engineering students who exit the exam hall knowing that they are getting at least 40 marks. Apart from this there are various forts, one of the most popular ones being the one where a scene from Dil Chahta Hai was shot. Almost everyone who goes there tries to replicate the shot from the movie in their photo poses. Like those poor nerds who stand holding up the Taj Mahal or the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The nation desperately needs new poses for pictures, Mr. Acche Din PM, kuch jugaad karo yaar.
And of course, you have the beaches of Goa, which are rumored to be covered in pristine white sand where one can sit and feel time standing still. In reality, they are mostly covered in uncles wearing Amul Macho underwear and you absolutely don’t want to see what part of their body is standing still. It is about the visual equivalent of listening to a Justin Bieber track featuring Yo Yo Honey Singh. So gross you can’t even imagine it. Also, the beaches contain Indian ladies who go into the water fully dressed; taking their cue from Saas-Bahu soaps where the characters go hiking dressed in exquisite chiffons, ethereal silks and elegant Dairy Milks (Sorry, got hungry there). Also, included are horny unmarried guys in their mid-20s (mostly engineers) who search for bikini clad foreigners with the tenacity of a forest guide searching for a tiger at Corbett National Park. When spotted, some act unconcerned, some gape unabashedly and some covertly snap a photo from their phone cameras, hoping to have a blurry titillating experience back home. Fun fact: These are the same people who go to a concert and record the show throughout the night, only to delete it 7 months later. Some are even lucky enough to spot an Indian woman in a bikini, which is the equivalent of seeing Alia Bhatt at a Mensa meeting. (Mensa is a society for High IQ individuals, you noob). There are some who are brave enough to approach the foreign dame and convince her in broken English to take a picture with them. The lady agrees if she is looking to add ‘Volunteered to bring smiles to Third World countries’ in her resume. The photo is then thoroughly uploaded on Facebook and the guy is thoroughly congratulated. Sheesh, congratulating a person just because he appears in a photo with a white lady, I mean just yesterday you threw out Manmohan Singh for the exact same reason.
The return trip was uneventful apart from a minor fracas with a mustachioed Marathi Manoos on the train. It all started because we had, OH GOD FORBID, placed a backpack on his seat. He was probably going to beat us up but after twenty minutes and four Ashok Saraf videos which we showed him on YouTube (He insisted on calling it YedaTube), we calmed him down.Yet, he spent the rest of the journey glaring at us like we were Bihari taxi drivers.
All in all, Goa is a pretty fun place even if you don’t want to drink yourself silly and puke all over the place. The people are friendly and relaxed mostly because they are probably too drunk to give a shit, which is a pretty cool idea if you think about it. Just get people so drunk that they can’t even lift a finger to flip someone off. Looks like someone found the cure for international terrorism. Can I get my Nobel Peace Prize now?