Every year around April, the advertising fraternity (me included) makes a beeline to Goa to celebrate its rather pretentious reason to exist. (Creativity is the better accepted and politically correct term.) On April 4, with the war cry, "Sri Scamachandra ki jai", the swayamsevaks dived into proceedings in very brief briefs and with what promised to be everlasting enthusiasm.
The Gods at Goafest were many. Each with a unique set of devotees.
The bar
It was free. It was flowing. It was unending. And worshipping at this altar were devotees largely under the age of thirty. The lure of a sponsored drink at that age and salary is hard to refuse. Ye bar, baar baar.
The work
Nobody cared. With the exception of the odd young man (the girls were closer to the water), a year into the business. He stood staring at the walls, scratched his head among other sweaty places and turned his face this way and that in an attempt to get it. Which brings to mind an ad written by my favourite copywriter.
Ravi Eshwar wrote, “Advertising is like the awards. Few get it.”
And these days not even the client gets to see it.
The main show
The eye candy was out to tempt, tease and torment. So when the seminar halls emptied out, I knew the rain dance had begun. Look at it this way. What chance does a Caucasian presenter of advertising funda have against a wet goddess? Va-va-voom said her most ardent devotee, Archie Andrews.
The side show
Some won because their work could not be denied. Some others won because they could not be denied. The evidence of horses being traded was not visible to the naked eye, but those who saw it enlightened those who didn’t. Bye then till 2009 for more of the same. The show must go on.
Bhagwan Sri Scamachandra ki jai!
