The Thing about Goafest

For most of the people there, or should I say ‘delegates’, it was the most fun they’re going to have until April 2011.

And that’s the problem.

It’s not that I have anything against general merriment. I love my King’s beer as much as (probably a lot more than) the next bald guy in low-slung shorts and a clever t-shirt.

I just think the source should be a little closer to the lecture halls and showcase rooms than the silly little insulated bubbles that are the agency shacks.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t fight the feeling that it’s no more than a paid holiday for the people who’ve just joined the industry, and the seminar halls tucked away in the corner are simply the excuse given to justify the astronomical costs.

And it’s sad because you can see where this is going. The skirts will keep getting shorter, the tattoos and facial hairstyles will keep getting more creative, and the work will keep going down the toilet.

Interestingly, a sign inside the toilet read: ‘If it takes too long, it’s not worth it.’ I don’t know if that’s meant to be funny, but it sounded like a fairly good reflection on a few things.

And then there are the awards themselves.

(Full disclosure: We were nominated in 5 categories and were disappointed to not have won in any. However, this is not about being a sore loser. I respect the jury’s decision and judgment. I just disagree with the way things were done, which would have stood even if we had won.)

That said, I still found the childish absurdity hard to believe. Cheering and hooting is one thing, sending cheerleaders on stage and acting like a bunch of drunk college freshers just takes whatever dignity is left in the ceremony and chokes it do death with a pair of blood red pom-poms.

And like a friend tweeted: What if the Oscars jury was also ‘strict’ and decided there were no good movies made this year, or that nobody cares about ‘best cinematographers’ so there’s no need to call them on stage, or Katheryn Bigelow came to pick up her Oscar with a bunch of cheerleaders… and so on.

Again, I don’t have anything against having fun. But doesn’t the value and stature of this event depend on how the ‘delegates’ treat it?

If we all want it to be an excuse for a paid, drunken holiday, that’s all it will ever be.

Being in digital, I’ve never really felt a sense of belonging to this community. But seeing the show at Goafest 2010, I have lost whatever desire I had for it. People wearing checkered shirts and normal hairstyles simply don’t cut it at the festival of cool. The fits, it seems, have become the misfits.

So, after spending this one at the opposite end of Cavelossim beach, peacefully distant from the party zone, next April, I’m going to shave my head, grow a goatee, get a Chinese tattoo and yell ‘What the fuck, dude?’ at the top of my voice, all the fucking time.

That’s probably the only way this circus can be enjoyed.

Disclaimer: This post is by abhishek prasad, copywriter at digiVaasi. The views and opinions expressed by this author may not represent or be endorsed by digiVaasi in any way. Well, maybe in some ways. It’s a bit tricky … we’ll have to ask our lawyers.