The parties organised by the Amsterdam Balloon Company (ABC) on Baga beach were the first reported parties by the Goan media in the early 1980s. The parties, or at least what is remembered of them, were a fusion of artistes from Goa and abroad.
Remo Fernandes played, the late Dr Rod danced, the late William D’Souza let his eccentricity flow through his drums and if not mistaken, the late August Braganza provided stereo sound that allowed music to enter through both ears and burst inside.
The Amsterdam Balloon party was the most-awaited event because during that one night, the founder – he was a Dutch national – let creativity flow through dance, music, theatre, food, drinks and fireworks. It was what can be called a cracking party enjoyed by all.
Then, one season, it was reported that Interpol was on the look-out for the Dutch national and the party, that had given a different meaning to many lives, burst. Or so, one thought.
Once again, the emphasis on the sound was on clarity and not volume. They brought the latest sound equipment so that the musical notes could be enjoyed and not the noise value.
Instead, the action shifted from Baga to Anjuna where parties were held on the beach with Goa Gil – he was not known as that back then – and his boys playing live music; the late William jamming up often and the sound monitored by Braganza, a guy called Roy and later on someone by the name of Pramod.
Once again, the emphasis on the sound was on clarity and not volume. They brought the latest sound equipment so that the musical notes could be enjoyed and not the noise value.
From live music on beaches, the focus shifted to recorded music in the hinterland. In houses first, in compounds later, and finally, in the forests in the open and the music started getting louder with emphasis on bass.
This was the period wherein, to play, a DJ had to pay $ 1,500. The money covered the payment to the police inspector, the sound, the décor, the generator and the kerosene to run it.
A tandoori chicken with naan and a bottle of McDowell was kept aside for the duty cop.
This was the period wherein, to play, a DJ had to pay $ 1,500. The money covered the payment to the police inspector, the sound, the décor, the generator and the kerosene to run it.
This was the time when the emphasis gradually turned on volume, where the organisers of the party made money selling mineral water – a bottle on wholesale was bought for Rs 3 and sold for Rs 100 – and a tempo load was consumed during a party.
To the unaware, the water parties, as they were called in those days, were parties where LSD was consumed by most who attended the parties – there was Hoffman, Buddha, Laughing Buddha, micro dots and even Garbachov to choose from. They came in the form of dots, in liquid and paper blots.
The parties would start in the evening and wind up as the first rays of the sun hit the sky with the morning music, as it was called, leaving party-goers with smiles all over – though the occasional flip case was something expected.
The parties of the 1980s and 1990s were a mix of foreign tourist and locals, with a few domestic tourists seen trudging early in the morning to ogle. If some entered the dance floor, it was to get a feel of white skin. The foreign women then, drew the Indian male tourist.
From a feel of foreign tourists, the sway turned to the feel of drugs with chemical drugs – read white mixed powder – slowly creeping into the market and squeezing away hashish and marijuana, and with it, the loud music started turning into noise and the drugs from recreational to life threatening, and hence, an ambulance outside many parties today.
From a feel of foreign tourists, the sway turned to the feel of drugs with chemical drugs – read white mixed powder – slowly creeping into the market and squeezing away hashish and marijuana, and with it, the loud music started turning into noise and the drugs from recreational to life threatening, and hence, an ambulance outside many parties today.
Chillums and joints were smoked freely earlier, just like many go to the toilet to powder their nose, today. Before, said a senior cop recently, when one entered a party, the floor smelt of hash and people could be seen dancing.
Today, there is no smell, but people can be seen dancing as if they are mad.
This is the change that is indirectly affecting the lives of residents around the party places because they can get no sleep and that is the worst poison for healthy living.
When a DJ paid $ 1,500 to play, he did so because he knew how he would recover that money. It took time for many locals to understand the ploy and the innocent are paying for it now.
It does not mean they can be ignored by some wanting to wash their hands. Collective responsibility is the cornerstone of goodness. To be good is tough, but tying to be good is not difficult.
This should be, the first step forward.