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India' most-loved beach destination turns back the clock to the days of flower children every Saturday night
The tie-dyed billboard states in swirled paint: “Welcome to the Mother of All Indian Night Markets”.
Inside the market, at twilight, Neil Young’s bohemian mantra Rockin’ in the Free World fills the muggy air.
And market-goers find themselves swaying to the beat as they hop off their motorbikes or step out from their taxis.
A greying, ponytailed disc jockey interrupts the tune and calls out: “All you lucky hippies, shop well. We are here to rock India, baby.”
So right at 7pm on a steamy Saturday night, hundreds of holiday-making Indian families joined hundreds of Birkenstock-wearing young tourists to wander around a series of stalls selling everything from hemp-fabric hammocks, dreadlock extensions, sitars and saris, along with tutorials for treatments such as aromatherapy, reiki and colonic hydrotherapy.
Fashion for a steal
Shiny glass bangles, miniature statues of Hindu deities, stuffed elephants bejewelled with mirrors and bright Rajasthani fabrics, T-shirts bearing images of Mahatma Gandhi — to Sam Andersen, 29, the market was one of the highlights of the palm-fringed beach destination of Goa, on the western coast of India. The compulsive shopper from England started sweating.
She could barely contain her desire to “buy everything” because “it’s so much fun here that you start to really believe you need the Incredible Hulk sarong and matching towel, which has the Hulk but is also printed with a Hindu deity”.
“So brilliant,” her friend said, examining a pair of sandals, which had straps shaped like giant red lips.
The designer of the shoes was not bargaining — there were plenty of customers looking for funky footwear.
“We make people too happy,” said Arathi Menon, an apprentice for a Goan shoe designer who was selling the “kissing feet” style along with floppy yellow, green and orange boots that made them look rather hobbit-like.
The Saturday night market is an outgrowth of a smaller flea market started in the 1960s in Goa by broke hippies.
There are now several night markets and a Wednesday market in the hippie enclave of Anjuna beach with thousands of stalls.
Sold out on India
“The hippies wanted to stay in Goa and tour India for as long as they could,” said Alfred Wolfgang, 60, speaking through a mouthful of brownies.
At the market’s food stands, he was holding forth on the market’s history to a young crowd. “So they sold their jeans, they made lasagna, they played Beatles songs.
They did what they could at the flea market to be able to earn a little more and stay a little more.”
Gregarious, with thick, caterpillar-like eyebrows, Wolfgang is from Long Island, New York.
He came to party in Goa decades ago, got hooked on the place and started making brownies and selling them at the flea market.
“The first Indian family to taste them back then — and that was before globalisation — well, they ordered just one and ended up leaving with the entire tray,” he said, himself ordering another brownie from a young German couple who was selling them alongside milky coffee.
Wolfgang has long quit the sweets business and instead imports espresso machines to customers in Mumbai and New Delhi.
And these days the Saturday night bazaar has expanded from a foreigners’ market to include merchants from across Asia. Purists say the market should have stayed small.
But merchants saw an opportunity and wanted in on it even if they did have to print a tie-dyed sari.
Plethora of choice
On this night, a visitor could wander at 9pm through the market’s labyrinth of stalls and find Tibetans selling mini prayer wheels and singing brass bowls, Kashmiris hawking carpets and shawls and French women selling designer “nomad purses” — buttery leather handbags fused with cloth made by tribals.
Around 9.30pm, many Indians, who typically eat dinner late, line up at the food stalls, many of which are run by foreigners.
There’s Goan rice and spongy bread, soggy pizza, greasy ravioli, overstuffed falafel and creamy but slightly sweetish tiramisu, along with ginger tea, fresh lime sodas and the seasonal mango juice.
At several stalls, Nepali teenagers sell burned CDs of Goan trance music alongside Kurt Cobain and Bollywood soundtracks. At 10.15, the disc jockey spins Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.
Testing life
Closing his eyes and swaying to the music, Nila Ales, 25, begs some tourists from Germany to buy a bundle of incense sticks wrapped in a Buddha-embossed silk sack. They look annoyed and head off.
At midnight, the DJ, his voice lucid and cheery, sings out: “This is only a test,” laughing at the punchline he is about to deliver. “The next life is for real.”
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