The Lost White-haired Ponytailed Tribe
When the name Goa comes up, people have either never heard of it or they have visions of a lost era. A time and place where Peace and Love prevailed.
In the late 1960s early ’70s, there was a global flow of nomadic youth that wandered the planet searching for a place of their dreams. A place where they could fit in, far away from their hometown, their high schools and their parent’s expectations.
It was a time long before TripAdvisor, and the information highway consisted of rumors passed up and down the hippie trail. Stories about gatherings of their people on tropical beaches and remote mountain retreats. It was Goa that became the golden destination. From the UK, Australia and beyond, they arrived on buses and trains and whatever else was moving. They followed “the flow” and it lead them here to the dawning of a new age.
They we drawn by the beaches and the climate, and they were intoxicated by the drum circles and the glowing chillums. Tribal dancing and tantric yoga were on the menu and many exotic faiths and customs were embraced. They chanted under the Aquarian moon, and the Arabian Sea whispered along in sweet harmony. India was THE PLACE to be, it became the prefect backdrop for an alternative movement.
Of course, with all this youthful exuberance, the inevitable occurred: offspring. Toddlers, blond haired and naked, who frolicked in the sand together. They were blessed with names such as: Anjuna, India, Ganesh & Pavatti. I wonder how their lives unfolded?
George Harrison and his mates came to study sitar under the tutelage of master Ravi Shankar. Its mystical sound was introduced to the fanbase with the recording of Within You With Out You* and other songs. Rock music helped define “the flow”, pop stars and celebrities arrived for the photo-op and the party.
As the decade waned, the tribe slowly began to drift away. A few hard core stayed behind to live out their dharma, finding their guru or becoming sadhus themselves. But the majority found their way back to a certain reality and a day job. Many became estate agents, financial planners and the like. Bought a house in the burbs and raised a family.
Today, if you visit Goa, you will see a new sub-cult emerging. Those with the white-haired ponytails. Now at the age of retirement, they have returned to the beaches to spend winter months in the sunshine and to gaze over the horizon of the youth. They don’t talk much anymore.
But their drums are collecting dust on the shelf and the last chillum has been passed. In their place are karaoke machines and a slow gin and tonic. Today, Elton John and Dusty Springfield form the soundtrack. And no more rusty bus trips, just hop a direct overnight flight from Manchester and you will be walking the beach before breakfast.
Soon, the bygone magic will just be in stories over lunch. Age is getting the better of the tribe and there is no Gen. Next. The Goan lifestyle of 50 years ago is just a fading memory; it just doesn’t track with the Instagram crowd. It’s sad to report that the WHP tribe is slowly melting into the sunset.
These days, the region is a holiday destination for young, newly affluent Indian families. They fly in from the major cities, spend a week or so and take it all in. What does remain however is the chilled vibe. It is still a beach community and as such, social norms are greatly relaxed (particularly for India).
BTW, if you should happen to come looking for your tribe, I can not assure you that you will find them here. You will, however, have a memorable time in Goa !
*Lyrics from Within You, Without You:
“We were talking about the love we all could share
When we find it, to try our best to hold it there.”
Om Shanti
