Of Goans, Dilliwallahs and Gobos

When in Goa, I never admit to being from Delhi, says the author

I have several friends with homes in Goa — villa, cottage, apartment or land — that they barely have time for, but it’s a competitive thing: If Bittoo has a place there then it’s logical that Sweetoo must too. (Pardon the aliases but you don’t want to rub your friends, who give you the run of their homes by the seaside, the wrong way.) Everyone knows that the mountains are closer to Delhi than the sea, so, of course, they have a home in the Himalayas — villa, cottage, apartment or land — that remains, for most part, neglected. If Dilliwallahs want to own a piece of real-estate in Goa, it’s because the Mumbaikars got there first. And which true-blue Dilliwallah would allow that to go unchallenged, which is why there are more Dilli-types in Goa than Mumbaiwallahs — or, I suspect, Goans. 

While I hasten to assure you that my friends and I aren’t the sort, your average Dilliwallah-in-Goa is a pain in the neck. They think of all of Goa as some kind of 24x7 rave party. They strew largesse to roller-coaster away resistance, riling the neighbours, annoying the local citizenry and destroying the ambience and peace. When in Goa, I never admit to being from Delhi — though, in truth, the Dilliwallah is just a stand-in for your average north Indian who is just as uncouth in Goa. 

My Goa-based friends embody different types. There are those who are residents there, which means they traipse to Mumbai, or Delhi, for occasional, soul-bruising work, but prefer to live in Goa. Mostly, they’re writers, designers or consultants, those with flexi-hours and powerful personalities. Others work in the city but return to Goa like seasonal migrants to conduct workshops, or grow vegetables, or run residencies and art camps. Some are drifters who don’t pursue any serious career, in Delhi or Goa, preferring to hang out where their fancy takes them. A few have homes that have rarely been opened or aired. And there are those like us who don’t own a home in Goa but have friends who do.

I know some among us who have fashioned a career as permanent guests in Goa. They trade in gossip as fare for board and lodging, traipsing from one casa to another; hostesses take them in to prevent being vilified. Or they woo Goa’s outstation residents to be allowed to spend a few days in their villas that stretch to a few weeks or months. They’re all right so long as they care for the place and supervise the caretaker and maintain the garden, but are a menace if they invite other friends over who trash the place before moving on to the next sucker’s property. 

Some are true Gobos, or Goa bohemians — sun chasers who find their pleasure in the alternative life. When they aren’t writing screenplays, or blending aromatic essences, they’re stretching out for massages, working with villagers, or growing organic produce. They’re fickle with their interests, which is why nothing much comes of their efforts, but they’re people you can talk endlessly to. I’d like to be a Gobo too but these irrepressibly idyllic people are cultic and belong to a commune. As for choosing between playing host, or being a guest, I’ll opt for the latter — even though most of us are viewed as pests.