Wake me up before you go Goa

"Wow. You look very beautiful!" He said.

"Errr... dude, that's 'cos you're the security guard of my gym. You've never seen me in anything other than a sweaty T-shirt and shorts. Even if I was wearing a torn gunny sack right now, you'd find me beautiful." said cynical Sayesha. In her head.

That's when non-cynical Sayesha realised something.

What is wrong with us? Why can't we take a compliment as what it is - just a compliment? Why do we have to read so much into it?

"Thank you." I said to him.

So where was I headed, dressed to the nines? I was on my way to Goa Nite, when I had bumped into the security guard.

This year, I finally managed to get tickets for Goa Nite - an annual party organised for Goans living in Singapore and their friends. It's supposed to be really happening, with lots of food, fun and fenny, and Goan music. I'd missed it last year and the year before that, and so I was thrilled when my friend Max told me he could get me in this year.

"The dress code is strictly formal, okay?" He said.

"Really?? But why?? It's Goa night, the dress code should be beachwear, isn't it?"

"Well, I don't know why, but last year it was pretty formal too. Suits, evening gowns and stuff."

Darn. So I dug through my wardrobe to see if I had anything suitable. I discovered three evening gowns, two from my seniors' farewell nights, and one from my own. But I felt I would not be able to freely dance in them. Especially to Goan music. Anyway, 'formals' for men and women can be defined so differently. There's a lot of stuff that we gals can pull off as formal, unlike guys.

And that's when my little red halter-neck dress caught my eye. I'd bought it in Manila with my airport tax money but never really had the chance to wear it. But it looked perfect for this occasion.

Every dress has its destiny, and this one's was Goa Nite.

So just before the party, I spoke to Max again on yahoo.

"What are you wearing?" I asked him. In retrospect, a question like that, asked on chat, sounds really seedy! :/

"A suit. You?" He asked.

"A little red dress. Should be formal enough I think."

"Little red dress? How is it like?"

"Uhh... it's little... and it's red."

"It's not a bikini, is it?"

Sheesh. It was not that little. But I did take a black embroidered shawl - which I fondly refer to as 'the hole-y shawl' along for protection against the cold. (Boy, was I glad I did.)

It's not every day that you get to dress up for a party. I usually don't get a chance to really dress up for anything, so I was really excited. I felt like a kid who could not wait to put on her 'party dress'. Four hairdos later, I decided on straight hair. After spending a good fifteen minutes straightening my hair, I spent about five more hoping that it wouldn't rain, 'cos nothing kills straightened hair like humidity in the air. Hey that rhymed! :D

When we reached the venue, I was suprised to see the crowd. There were hundreds of people, their ages ranging from 3 to 60, half of them all over the dance floor, and the other half seated on the tables on the two sides. There were six of us in our group - four guys and two girls. We were each given a mask, and to my utter delight, mine was red, a perfect match with my dress.

They had got a band from Bombay. When I first saw the band of two, I was really disappointed, but boy, did they a pack a punch. Every song they sang drove us nuts on the dance floor, especially the Goan songs. The band was urging the people to sing along, and everyone obliged. Everyone except the six of us. None of us knew the freakin' lyrics to any of the songs! The emcee got off the stage and choreographed this silly dance where we formed a big circle (can you imagine the diameter??!!) and basically went round and round holding the shoulders of the person in front of us. Was super duper fun.

Regardless of their age, Goans are amazingly chilled-out people. Even though my friends and I had brought down the average age of that party by a little, some of the people there effortlessly outdid us in terms of energy and dancing skills. When I looked at this 40-something couple dancing, I could see that it was not just the band's music that kept them going, it was the music in their spirit which made them so lively. And I'd seen that music in the spirit in every Goan I'd encountered during my Goa trip in 2004.

I'd gone to Goa two years ago with five of my cousins. Four guys and a girl from different parts of the world. I was to fly from Singapore to Hyderabad (Dad was posted there then) for a week, and then set off for Goa. I still remember how shocked my parents were at the idea of me taking a domestic flight alone. Three of my cousins were flying down from the UK, one was coming from Delhi, and the other from Calcutta. Luckily, our landing times were within the hour. I was waiting at the airport for their flights to land when I spotted Pooja Bedi. She never really made it big in Bollywood but I must admit she still had a fantastic body. She looked kinda disappointed 'cos no one was giving her bhaav. I would have obliged but my luggage was too heavy.

Our tour guide was this really cute and funny guy called Savio (okay, is everyone in Goa named Savio or what?) and he kept cracking jokes in the bus. "In Goa, fenny is the biggest source of income... and hangovers." He said with a straight face during our tour of Panjim. I laughed my lungs out. My cousins rolled their eyes and said, "That was not funny." I rolled my eyes back at them and said, "Jealous buggers." I got teased like hell after that. "Oooh, looks like our little sister has a crush on our cool tour guide, eh?" Savio took us to the place where Dil Chahta Hai was shot, and the five of us sat at the same spot where the three friends had sat and stared at the ship.

We stayed in the Taj Holiday Village. We had two huge villas connected by one door. I set down the ground rules. One of the rooms was called 'the smoking room' where the guys had to migrate if they wanted to smoke, and the other was the 'non-smoking room' which was inhabited by me most of the time. "You can't pollute both rooms, okay?" was my logic.

I found a card on the dressing table that said 'Complimentary yoga at 6 am for all guests'. I have no idea how, but I manged to read it as 'compulsory yoga at 6 am for all guests'. Suddenly I was freaked out by visions of the room service guys dragging the guests out at 6 am and making them forcibly sit and do yoga! Then one of the guys pointed it out to me. (And I call myself an editor. Sheesh.)

That afternoon, as we frolicked in the beautiful pool, we saw Kapil Dev, complete with family walking towards the pool. My cousin Sid dashed back to our villa to fetch his camera, but by the time he had put on his shades, adjusted his hair, checked his biceps and returned with the camera, the Devs were gone. But the rest of us had had a chance to speak to him and shake his hand.

"Shucks man... can't believe Kapil Dev is in the same hotel as us!" Said one of the guys.

"You know what this proves?" I asked.

"What?" They asked.

"Kapil Dev and we have the same budget! Muahahaha!" I said.

They gave me strange what-have-you-been-drinking looks.

I still remember the discussion the five of us had at midnight on the beach about careers and money and ambition. I sipped my orange juice and watched my brothers get high and senti. Is it me or do guys everywhere turn senti when they are high? It's hilarious to hear them talk. All the blackmailable stories start coming out.

The mention of alcohol brings me back to Goa Nite. At the dinner table, there was an elderly couple sitting next to me. When they started serving fenny, the old man turned to talk to me.

"Fenny is the best, isn't it?" He asked.

"Well, I don't know... I haven't tried it before, but now I will."

"Oh! You're not a Goan??" He asked.

"Nope." I smiled.

"Well, you should try fenny... but be careful." He warned.

I had barely sipped about 2 mm of the feni, when I realised why the old man had warned me. It was incredibly strong. I could not drink it by itself. It was only when I'd poured the whole thing into my glass of Coke that I could take a few more sips. Halfway through dinner, most of the people were back on the dance floor. Poor band. Then started another crazy round of dancing when the band played some hindi songs. I had never thought I'd enjoy myself so much dancing to the remix version of 'Woh lamhe'. Suddenly, I missed my old gang, especially Sinnerman and American Pi.

Sigh, why do good friends go away from you?

Later on, they had a few contests, the first of which was so hilarious. The emcee announced, "The prize will go to the person who can show me a one-rupee coin!" One-rupee coin?? Who the hell would have a one-rupee coin?? And yet, there was a mad rush, but no one could produce the coin. So the contest was changed it to "Who has a 100-dollar note?" A few such contests followed, such as 'longest earrings' (I almost won this one!), 'greatest number of buttons', 'shortest skirt', etc.

The millions of kids running all over the dance floor were quite a hazard, yet we danced like crazy. I had not danced like that in a very long time. I don't frequent clubs anymore, mainly because I don't like to come back with my hair and clothes smelling of cigarette smoke. So Goa Nite was the ultimate party for me - a smoke-free dancefloor! Yippeeeeeeeee!

I feel like visiting Goa all over again. Recently, I watched Socha Na Tha for the 7th time, and the Goa scenes stayed in my head, particularly the Abhi abhi song.

Goa teri har adaa ke, hum toh deewane ho gaye...
Zindagi jeene ke yahan pe, kitne bahaane ho gaye...