Goa & the MM Corporate Weekend
Aaah, much has been said and written about tourism in Goa lately that I prefer not to add to the multitude of voices and opinions on this subject - from pure ecstasy displayed by professional beach bums to the sad 'lost-tranquility' stories of Goan Holiday veterans and the smug 'we've-found-an-as-yet-unspoilt-strip-of-white-sand' finds of the yuppies. I will however re-affirm the good nature of the people of Goa who are ever-welcoming, warm and helpful even as they stoically watch their beautiful state being swallowed by mass commercialization. As far as I can tell their economic growth now depends largely on tourism. These tourists, both national and international, flock here for the lovely sandy beaches much like the one in the photo below.
I hope sooner rather than later, the Goans will be able to find and enforce a balance that keeps bringing in the tourists who crave their natural beauty and rich history but prevent the place becoming a conurbation of plastic, tarmac, honking Tata Sumos, fancy Skodas and the big tourist buses, all of which are seemingly devouring every inch of the charming hilly roads.
To this list I must add, as observed by a trusted friend, the highly probably future menace of jet skis and fancy speedboats. They are currently too few in number to cause much concern. However, the owners and operators have already amassed a large and willing audience to show off their skills on these noisy water-machines as they do dangerous loops in the water around the swimmers, many of whom are small children. I’m personally quite fascinated by jet skis. As long as they ‘zone’ them away from peace-loving, swimmer-friendly beaches, regulate their numbers and use a better fuel type, I would be fine! Then again, even the French Riviera hasn’t been able to tackle this beach pest, so Goa can only become worse before it gets better.
I digress however as my usual meandering instincts take over. There is a more fun bit to this post, I promise, starting just about now! We all know that corporate weekends and team days out are now a regular concept in most multi-national businesses. We may moan and groan but let us agree that they rarely fail in their prime task, which is to generate enough fodder to keep the office gossip mills running for at least three months thereafter. Indeed one would not consider a team away-day to be a success if there was (god forbid) nothing half-scandalous to dissect later.
Nearly a decade ago I went to my first and most memorable one: river-rafting and camping at Rishikesh. There was no mobile phone signal at the camp site in those days which added to the general bliss. Those were pre-Twitter days however, so maybe such a camp would be a ‘no-no’ for young urbanites today. Back then, the early morning rituals involved colleagues dumping each other in the sea, giving many of them a good excuse to see their more docile female counterparts in clinging outerwear. This would be followed by a freshly cooked (hot) breakfast, then some water games, a leisurely lunch, hike to the mountains, bonfire evening, dancing on the beach etc etc.
All these memories came rushing back during the recent weekend holiday in Goa, where I happened to book myself in a resort which, unbeknown to any guests beforehand, was also hosting the 'Malayalam Manorama (MM) Corporate Weekend' (!) For those unaware, MM is a popular daily newspaper read by about 16 million people in Kerala. They also run several magazines. During the weekend, the MM gang were singing, dancing, eating, drinking and playing beach games. But that's pretty much where the similarities ended.
For one, having grown in north India I had never seen about 70 Mallu men descend so enthusiastically on a beach or take turns jumping in a swimming pool. At that moment, my most immediate thoughts were:
a) Where are all the Mallu women from MM??
b) Aren't these guys from 'God's Own Country' of magnificent beaches and a breath-taking coastline, so why the euphoria at this pretty but comparatively small beach strip and the resort's swimming pool?
The answer to both if these was probably:
a) Mallu women would dare not party with this huge gang of adrenalin-charged, well-moustachioed young male counterparts :D
b) The joy of a company-paid weekend makes even the dullest locales look awesome, and most Goan beachfronts are far from dull.
In the early evening hours I saw beach volleyball and more bare-chested Mallu men dipping into the sea. Aah I thought, earlier these men (some not that young) were nattily dressed in pastel colour shirts and smart trousers, and that is how they should remain... for shirtless-ness is not for everybody ;-)
However it was the disco-evening that will stay forever imprinted in my mind. By evening, the area adjacent to the open-air restaurant had been converted to a small dance-stage complete with an in-house DJ. As dusk fell, grooving away wildly to Amitabh Bachhan classics like 'Pag ghungru baandh Meera nacchi thee' , and the more recent Kaminey’s ‘Dhan ta nan’ were about 40 tipsy young men. Wait a second, am I talking about a resort full of Punju blokes or Mallu blokes ?!
So finally a revelation: it seems the heady combination of a Goan resort, a company-paid, Feni-fuelled party, and blaring old and new bollywood chart-busters will cause lots of young men dancing closely (but not necessarily gay, as those familiar with India will know) to behave in exactly the same way, no matter from whichever corner of the sub-continent they may be. Here's one for national integration then!
But there was a subtle difference. None of the guys tried to overtly hit on any women in the resort (a la North Indian street side leering or worse). They did indulge in a lot of Indian-style ogling which makes me think that staring must be deeply genetic to the male species of the Indian sub-continent in some way. On the whole their raucous behavior was akin to harmless college boys rather than badly drunk adult males. I’m not so sure whether my experience would have been the same if these were boys from up north. Or perhaps the Mallu men were swearing and passing naughty comments in their local lingo so no one really caught on. Boys will be boys (sigh)! The one comment I did hear several times was ‘All izzz welll’ which confirms that popular Indian film dialogues are yet again binding us Bharatwasis.
By the end of the weekend I had witnessed some more beach cricket, played with great enthusiasm using a plastic chair as wicket (yup this is the stuff of modern patriotic movies). Then there was the final highlight of an ‘Employee Musical Night’ in Malayalam with heavy cheering for some pretty out-of-tune singers (probably their bosses) and some more general pool-dunking antics.
So I would stay at this resort again? Totally. But maybe with a Manipur Today or the North East Times Corporate weekend. I might enjoy their Employee Musical Night a bit more ;-)
****
(Bambolim Beach, Central Goa)
I hope sooner rather than later, the Goans will be able to find and enforce a balance that keeps bringing in the tourists who crave their natural beauty and rich history but prevent the place becoming a conurbation of plastic, tarmac, honking Tata Sumos, fancy Skodas and the big tourist buses, all of which are seemingly devouring every inch of the charming hilly roads.
To this list I must add, as observed by a trusted friend, the highly probably future menace of jet skis and fancy speedboats. They are currently too few in number to cause much concern. However, the owners and operators have already amassed a large and willing audience to show off their skills on these noisy water-machines as they do dangerous loops in the water around the swimmers, many of whom are small children. I’m personally quite fascinated by jet skis. As long as they ‘zone’ them away from peace-loving, swimmer-friendly beaches, regulate their numbers and use a better fuel type, I would be fine! Then again, even the French Riviera hasn’t been able to tackle this beach pest, so Goa can only become worse before it gets better.
(Utorda beach, South Goa)
Nearly a decade ago I went to my first and most memorable one: river-rafting and camping at Rishikesh. There was no mobile phone signal at the camp site in those days which added to the general bliss. Those were pre-Twitter days however, so maybe such a camp would be a ‘no-no’ for young urbanites today. Back then, the early morning rituals involved colleagues dumping each other in the sea, giving many of them a good excuse to see their more docile female counterparts in clinging outerwear. This would be followed by a freshly cooked (hot) breakfast, then some water games, a leisurely lunch, hike to the mountains, bonfire evening, dancing on the beach etc etc.
All these memories came rushing back during the recent weekend holiday in Goa, where I happened to book myself in a resort which, unbeknown to any guests beforehand, was also hosting the 'Malayalam Manorama (MM) Corporate Weekend' (!) For those unaware, MM is a popular daily newspaper read by about 16 million people in Kerala. They also run several magazines. During the weekend, the MM gang were singing, dancing, eating, drinking and playing beach games. But that's pretty much where the similarities ended.
For one, having grown in north India I had never seen about 70 Mallu men descend so enthusiastically on a beach or take turns jumping in a swimming pool. At that moment, my most immediate thoughts were:
a) Where are all the Mallu women from MM??
b) Aren't these guys from 'God's Own Country' of magnificent beaches and a breath-taking coastline, so why the euphoria at this pretty but comparatively small beach strip and the resort's swimming pool?
The answer to both if these was probably:
a) Mallu women would dare not party with this huge gang of adrenalin-charged, well-moustachioed young male counterparts :D
b) The joy of a company-paid weekend makes even the dullest locales look awesome, and most Goan beachfronts are far from dull.
In the early evening hours I saw beach volleyball and more bare-chested Mallu men dipping into the sea. Aah I thought, earlier these men (some not that young) were nattily dressed in pastel colour shirts and smart trousers, and that is how they should remain... for shirtless-ness is not for everybody ;-)
However it was the disco-evening that will stay forever imprinted in my mind. By evening, the area adjacent to the open-air restaurant had been converted to a small dance-stage complete with an in-house DJ. As dusk fell, grooving away wildly to Amitabh Bachhan classics like 'Pag ghungru baandh Meera nacchi thee' , and the more recent Kaminey’s ‘Dhan ta nan’ were about 40 tipsy young men. Wait a second, am I talking about a resort full of Punju blokes or Mallu blokes ?!
So finally a revelation: it seems the heady combination of a Goan resort, a company-paid, Feni-fuelled party, and blaring old and new bollywood chart-busters will cause lots of young men dancing closely (but not necessarily gay, as those familiar with India will know) to behave in exactly the same way, no matter from whichever corner of the sub-continent they may be. Here's one for national integration then!
But there was a subtle difference. None of the guys tried to overtly hit on any women in the resort (a la North Indian street side leering or worse). They did indulge in a lot of Indian-style ogling which makes me think that staring must be deeply genetic to the male species of the Indian sub-continent in some way. On the whole their raucous behavior was akin to harmless college boys rather than badly drunk adult males. I’m not so sure whether my experience would have been the same if these were boys from up north. Or perhaps the Mallu men were swearing and passing naughty comments in their local lingo so no one really caught on. Boys will be boys (sigh)! The one comment I did hear several times was ‘All izzz welll’ which confirms that popular Indian film dialogues are yet again binding us Bharatwasis.
(Calangute Beach, North Goa)
By the end of the weekend I had witnessed some more beach cricket, played with great enthusiasm using a plastic chair as wicket (yup this is the stuff of modern patriotic movies). Then there was the final highlight of an ‘Employee Musical Night’ in Malayalam with heavy cheering for some pretty out-of-tune singers (probably their bosses) and some more general pool-dunking antics.
So I would stay at this resort again? Totally. But maybe with a Manipur Today or the North East Times Corporate weekend. I might enjoy their Employee Musical Night a bit more ;-)
****
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