This is the prequel to the last post.
The previous week, we’d bumped into Adrian. Lovely guy. Adrian’s the only person i know, who’s been married twice in his life.
Once to a woman, then to a man.
We bumped into him again, as we were exploring our Saturday night plans. He looked at me with fire in his eyes. She looked at me with a clear ‘no fucking way i’m sharing you with a guy‘ stare.
On the prowl, shack to shack, zipping our bikes, hunting for a place with barely decent music, given what a whiner I am at these commercial music shitholes, we went all over Anjuna. Some dude was supposed to play ‘tropical bass’ at Lilliput at 3 am. Sounded interesting, but we had lots of time to kill.
Stopped outside Hilltop Lounge to gauge the music – SO shit. Kept moving, reached Waters Lounge and rode our bikes into an empty parking lot. There was silence, but the bouncers were setting themselves up at the gate. So I went up to have a word. It was midnight, and the bouncer said the dj would start at 1 am.
‘Which DJ?’, I enquired.
I heard him say Goa Gil.
‘Right. Here.’, I flayed my arms at the empty parking lot.
‘Yes, people will come by 1 am.’
‘Free now, charged after 1 am.’
So i told my two lovers, ‘WE ARE BLESSEDD!!!! Let’s run in NOWWW’.
So we walked into the empty club, thanking our stars, that we didn’t even have to be in queue or pay entry for a Goa Gil gig. Goa Gil has chilled with Albert Hoffman. Albert Hoffman is the man who created LSD. So this is the Godfather of DJs we’re talking about. I mean, at gigs in South America, when people knew I was from India, they’d come to me just to talk about the Goa Gil. Like those evangelists talk about Jesus.
That’s Mr.Hoffman (a personal hero of mine) on the left, and grandmaster Gil on the right, in 2003.
A few minutes passed, we opened the menus to get something to warm up to. It was half past midnight and still no people.
I was bewildered. So i asked the manager if they’d promoted this gig.
‘Yeah, we put it on our facebook page.’
Wow. Nice. Very confident of you. I’m still raving to my people, how lucky we are..
‘So where’s Gil right now? Is he setting up? Are you sure he will play even if nobody turns up…’, I ask the manager.
He started to give me the desi head nod and suddenly stopped.
‘He…? Sir, which Goa Gil are you talking about?’
As far as I know, there’s only one bro, I say. The old wizard that plays 10-12 hours. Him. Goa Gil.
‘No sir… our dj is a young girl.’
My heart shrank into itself till there was a vacuum where it existed.
Young girl? What the fuck are you talking about man?
‘Yes sir, young girl. Goa Gail. Gail.’
Holy mother of God. My old friend Gail. Even she’s a DJ now. But couldn’t she have chosen a better, unique name? GAAAAIL. There’s an A in that name you numbnuts, i wanted to scream to every one of their staff.
By the time i turned to my peeps, they knew something was amiss, from the look of plain horror on my face. I had to apologize, explain this miscommunication thanks to my Goan brothers’ pronunciations. And we sheepishly walked out. I didn’t even have the air in me to go talk to my old friend Gail.
We went to Curlies, where Adrian looked at me with more fire in his eyes, my girl went in to dance, and i slammed some calamari. Calamari for life. Calamari for sad days. Adrian proceeds to tell me what he felt the first time he saw me.
I’m not Mad Max. I’m #AwkwardMax.
I downed two beers and we made our way to Lilliput. And danced to shit music all night. Not really all night.
There was one DJ there, who as of two weeks before this night, i had seen as part of the REGGAE RAJAH CRU MAHN PULL UP PULL UPPP PWAAAAA. But by this night he was already fired by the RAJAH ARMY CRU MAHN PULL UP PULL UPPP PUULLL UUUUPPWAAA. Personal reasons, he said. He played the only decent music I heard this whole time in Goa.
There was this absolutely smashed birthday celebration crew of 20-21 year olds there. Sweaty as pigs, and hugging me all night. I still don’t know why.
What happened the next day, you already know. Else, catch the post below.