Full Moon Party India
In a vast near-deserted field floodlit by the moon somewhere high up in the Himalayas a lonesome DJ pumped out psychedelic dance beats.
The occasion was a full moon party in Ladakh, a wildly beautiful desert province of Northern India. I went along to the gig, hoping for a lively shindig, recalling tales recounted to me of the hedonistic full moon parties of the East. This party however was a dreary, disorganised affair. It was basically an uninspiring disco in a field, with a few flimsy marquees and a bar with a very limited selection.
Upon arrival, the place was fairly empty. It seemed like the organisers were expecting hundreds of people as there was so much room.
But, for whatever reason, the party never got off the ground and the numbers never arrived. It could be a lack of proper publicising or the fact that it was too late in the tourist season.
Even though the party itself was lame, and there were no toilet facilities (yes, no toilets, can you imagine!) and the repetitive beats got, well repetitive, the moon itself was the star attraction. It was incredibly bright, brighter than I have ever seen it in an Irish sky. It totally illuminated the landscape and made the surrounding mountains inky blue and iridescent. Truly spectacular. Lanterns led the way from the main area towards a river, where on the bank a few loungers were placed.
However it was too cold to sit out. After all we were at a phenomenal altitude: 3,500 metres in fact, which is basically the height of seven Carauntouhills stacked on top of each other. The air was thin, the clouds closer to the earth, the moon brighter. My companion and I watched the moon illuminate the entire sky on that particularly clear night while the air was filled with the unrelenting beats of the music. It seemed slightly wrong to pollute such beauty with man-made noises. My friend, Ben from Canada, and hardcore trance music fan- disagreed. “This is the most perfect music to listen to while admiring this view. The music is outdoors and that gives it space,” he said.
Psychedelic trance music parties were hugely popular in India in the sixties, and there is still a happening scene throughout the country, though not half as exciting as it was in the past.
Goa, a popular beach hang-out in South India is the place to go for the best parties, where hedonism can run free. The music I heard left me cold; it felt outdated and best left in the past to the first Westerners who went to India in search of mind expanding experiences.
Barely a hundred souls turned out at this gig, most of whom were male.
Women were outnumbered fifteen to one at least, and the women who were there were mainly Westerners. Ladakh is a very traditional family based society, where men and women are not supposed to mix freely, and women usually stay home. As one of the few women there, I had to regularly fend off the advances of the local men, who are not used to dealing with ‘unaccompanied’ women.
Ladakh is known as ‘Little Tibet’-the people who live there have more in common with their Northern neighbour Tibet than with India itself. This mountainous people have round smiley faces. Since tourism has transformed the place in the past 30 years the locals have become exposed to Western culture, something they aspire to. The local men at the party looked more like gangster rappers in their dress, with their loose sports trousers, medallions and dance moves. They mingled on the dance floor with the other revellers: foreigners living in the nearby city of Leh, regular tourists, backpackers, travellers high on psychedelic drugs, seekers and hippies. Ladakh has now emerged as a hugely popular destination for serious trekkers or anyone who loves the outdoors.
At one point during the night I heard a voice on the dancefloor over all the others. “G’wan ya good thing, ya,” a girl with a broad Dublin accent and dreadlocks was laughing as she danced to the beats. She was working in a restaurant in Leh. No matter where you go in the world you will find the Irish, even in some out of the way spot up the Himalayas! Beside the bonfire I struck up a conversation with a Scottish bloke called Duncan who had just travelled all over the world who spoke uncannily like Shrek, so much so that I could not listen to him and keep a straight face. It was at that point that it was time to leave!
