Just Like That | Goa’s journey from hippie escape to top tourist destination

I am writing this column from Goa, where my family and I escape every winter, when Delhi is shrouded in smog and biting cold, for a few days of relief. Here, the skies are blue, the air is clean, and the weather is balmy.

I first visited this slender crescent of land cradled by the Arabian Sea as far back as 1977. It was then on the cusp of being discovered as a tourist haven, with hippies on mopeds, artists in shacks, and music seeping into the night along the still-pristine beaches of Anjuna and Vagator. At first, tourism grew organically. But over time, as the world urbanised and global travel became cheaper, these footprints turned into footfalls measured in millions.

Today, Goa is among India’s most visited destinations, drawing both domestic travellers and international tourists in soaring numbers. Its economy thrives on hospitality, nightlife, weddings, festivals and water-sport adventures — sectors that together contribute a substantial portion of the state’s GDP (gross domestic product).

For me, Goa, with its baroque churches and pastel-white houses with slanted tile roofs, has always been an idea — of ease and festivity, of confluence and continuity, of cultures that fused rather than clashed. Long before Goa became a global synonym for beaches and parties, it was a tapestry of indigenous kingdoms, maritime trade networks and evolving cultural expressions. Ancient Goa was part of the Mauryan orbit, later the Satavahana and Kadamba realms. Its temples and folk festivals — from Gadyachi Jatra to Chikhal Kalo — were expressions of an agrarian and spiritual life harmonised with the rhythms of earth and tide.

When the Portuguese arrived in 1510, under the banner of empire and evangelism, Goa entered a new chapter of multilayered identity that continued for over four centuries. After 1961, when Goa was liberated from colonial rule and integrated into the Indian Union, its reputation spread — first among domestic travellers and backpackers, then globally. By the 1970s and 80s, Goa was no longer just a territory; it was a mythos, synonymous with freedom, sand and surf.

Yet there is always a price to pay for excess. Today, especially during peak seasons, Goa shows clear signs of stress: environmental degradation, water scarcity, the blight of unmanaged waste, encroachment of shacks onto once-pristine shorelines, noise, parking problems and incessant traffic jams.

All these problems are accentuated year after year by the lack of adequate regulatory control. The most recent example illustrating this is what happened on the night of December 6, 2025, when a blaze tore through the Birch by Romeo Lane nightclub at Arpora in North Goa, claiming 25 lives and injuring dozens more.

What should have been a vibrant celebration — the beat of music, laughter and dance — turned into a nightmare of smoke and loss. Investigations and inquiries have revealed chilling details: the nightclub was constructed illegally on a salt pan, operated without a valid licence, lacked sufficient emergency exits, and failed to adhere to basic fire safety norms.

The central question, however, is not merely about enforcement after the fact, but about why enforcement was slack in the first place. When local licences are granted without necessary documentation, when structural safety is overlooked, when occasional sparks are allowed to become raging infernos — these are not accidents. They are symptoms of a system that allowed corruption too freely and oversight too sparingly.

As I sit sipping coffee while writing this column, I am convinced that Goa now needs to be saved from itself. Goa’s journey — from ancient settlement to Portuguese outpost, from hippie haunt to global tourist hotspot — is remarkable. Yet every so often, history delivers a moment that forces reflection. The Arpora fire is one such moment.

If Goa fails to internalise the lessons of this tragedy, it may find its own mythology eroded — not just by the tides on its shores, but by the erosion of governance and collective conscience. The government in Goa must realise that tourism cannot be taken for granted. If quality is not maintained, the same tourists may choose other destinations, causing irreparable loss to Goa’s economy.

But enough of this morbidity. It is the festive Christmas and New Year season, and Goa, where almost every street is festooned with cheery lights, remains seductive: sunsets on its beaches are irresistible; the air is clean; the weather is pleasant, with sunny days and cool mornings and evenings; and for gourmets, it remains a culinary delight.

For me — without prejudice to the many other great restaurants here — a visit to Goa is incomplete without a meal at Bomraz, Izumi, Avo’s Kitchen, Gunpowder, and (a new discovery) Rohit Khattar’s Thai restaurant, Fireback. Next to where we are staying in Siolim, we also found a newly opened café-cum-patisserie, Sazieta, a quiet pavilion full of greenery offering excellent choices of coffee, hot chocolate, desserts and savouries.

(Pavan K Varma is an author, diplomat, and former member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). The views expressed are personal)