Goagram Excerpt: Will Maddie's Cultural Goa Quest Revive Her Social Media Slump?

Mesmerized by the world of social media influencing and its quick fix for fame, Madhur Chopra aka Maddie, escapes from COVID-infested Delhi to tranquil Goa, which provides the perfect backdrop for her vlogs. Armed with dreams of becoming a famous fashion influencer, she ends up in Casa Coutinho—a crumbling-but-glorious Goan mansion—and strikes an unlikely friendship with the landlady. As Maddie’s vlogs catch on, her life becomes a heady mix of Insta likes, ever-increasing subscribers and new-found fame, until a horrifying experience shatters her digital dreams.

What will Maddie choose—reviving her influencer persona and striking gold with her designer clothing line, or accepting analogue anonymity forever?

Here's an excerpt from Bina Nayak's Goagr@m: Misadventures of an Influencer

Madhur looks at them and thinks, Arré O Samba, kitnéy followers thay? Ek lakh sé zyaada, huzoor! (O Samba, how many followers were there? More than a lakh, lord!)

The models with their never-ending legs are here, rich kids with their daddy’s Mercs are here, cricketers with their physios are here, Bollywood A-listers with their entourages are here—what chance does ‘Maddie Vlogs from Goa’ stand? 

‘Thank God, Auntyji, I came here in June, in the middle of the pandemic. Look at the crowd now! In just two months Goa is a completely different place. I hate going out—wherever I go, I bump into someone I know! All my snooty classmates are here,’ Madhur tells Mrs Coutinho one afternoon. ‘And, when they see me, they immediately look away. They don’t want to acknowledge me! Can you believe it—the rich and the middle-class are all hanging out at the same places in Goa? Same restaurants, same pubs!’

‘You please don’t eat at those restaurants. What will I do with the food I cook for you? Tie it around your neck?’

‘Arré no, Auntyji, don’t worry! I can’t eat out now. All these rich people have pushed the prices of everything through the roof. Even the Ros Omelette guy in Saligão has increased his rates,’ Madhur says dejectedly.

As other bloggers and vloggers concentrate on Goa’s outward beauty, Madhur decides to turn inward—to show a different, rarely seen (by non-Goans, that is) side of Goa to her viewers. She has access to such a place, only because she stays in an old crumbling mansion with a local. Casa Coutinho—though devoid of modern conveniences like ACs, microwave, food processors and geysers—has a cornucopia of antiques in its cavernous interiors.

Madhur’s latest vlogs focus on Goan customs, traditional home-cooked food, architecture and indigenous fabrics. Her guide is her ebullient landlady, Mrs Coutinho. The old woman has overcome her initial shyness and actively participates in Madhur’s shenanigans—in fact, she leads them now, using the videos and photoshoots as an excuse to show-off her stately heirlooms or her singing prowess. Every other video, in addition to a gorgeously attired Madhur, also features Mrs Coutinho in a formal gown or an elegant silk sari, her silver-grey hair styled with a rose or a hibiscus flower from her garden.

‘Auntyji, sit on this,’ Madhur says, directing the old lady to an antique maroon velvet chaise lounge that has faded over the years. Madhur makes a mental note to brighten the velvet with filters. Mrs Coutinho sits on the chaise lounge, dressed in a pale green silk sari with intricate gold embroidery.

‘Wah, Auntyji! You look just like Waheeda Rehman,’ Madhur exclaims, looking through her mobile. ‘Now, say something!’

MRS COUTINHO: What to say ... okay, I’ll tell you about this sari. Silk is from Macau—Godfrey’s family did business there, I told you, na? So, my father-in-law used to order bales of silk and satin fabric for me, to stitch gowns and dresses. I liked this one so much, I didn’t want to cut it up, so I turned it into a sari, and did the embroidery myself, by hand! I wore it for my sister’s wedding—she got married two years after me.

Suddenly, Mrs Coutinho breaks into a lilting Portuguese song. Madhur is transfixed. It sounds like something out of an opera—not that she’s ever been to one.

MRS COUTINHO: Numa casa portuguesa fica bem pão e vinho sobre a mesa.e se à porta humildemente bate alguém,

senta-se à mesa co’a gente

Mrs Coutinho stops singing, feeling emotional after the first stanza.

In a Portuguese house it is good to have bread and wine on the table. and if someone humbly knocks on the door, we invite him to sit at the table with us...Song by Amália Rodrigues (Portuguese actress, known as the queen of fado)

MRS COUTINHO: I sang this fado at my sister’s wedding. It’s called “Uma Casa Portuguesa”, which means “a Portuguese house”. I sang it to wish my sister a happy married life.

Madhur’s new videos have an archival feel, as if she were recording an important moment in time, showing to the world a Goa that will soon disappear. But strangely, her viewership is declining. Every new video gets fewer and fewer likes. Her beloved readers leave distasteful comments.

Aashik 2000: Buddhi aurat mat dikhao yaar! Tu khud bikini pehen ké sofey par baith lio. (Don’t show the old woman! You sit on the sofa wearing a bikini.)

SexyRahul-99: Auntyji ko apné jaghey rahené do, tu beach pé jaa! (Let Auntyji stay at her own place, but you go visit a beach!)

Baby-Dollz: Not interested in seventy-year-old woman’s life. I already have grandmother at home!

NerdyNaresh: Seriously disliking this channel ...yeh toh art film banané lagi (she has started making some indie film)!

Altaf: Hum vell’ley hain kya? Kuch zabardast content dikhwa dio. (Are we sitting idle? Show us some exciting content.)

Madhur is confused by their reactions.

MaddievlogsfromGoa: Friends, I’m showing you the real Goa. The simple people, their culture. Goa is not just about boozy beach parties, you know. Yes, there is a culture of drinking here, but it’s very refined. In fact, many people here make their own wines, traditionally, at home! My next video will be on that!

DilliRomeo: No need! We have wine shops. Show us bikini babes on the beach!

MaddievlogsfromGoa: Hai Ram! Y’all will never change!

One day Mrs Coutinho challenges Madhur, ‘You think only you have sexy gowns? Wait, I’ll show you mine!’ She pulls out a bundle from her wardrobe, a white wedding gown is wrapped inside it. 

Forcing Madhur to wear it, Mrs Coutinho is surprised at how perfectly it fits her. Madhur has the same delicate frame Mrs Coutinho had as a young bride in the 1970s. Her daughter, Stella, on the other hand, has a stocky athletic built, like her husband, Godfrey.

The once-white China silk has turned a pale yellow from being kept wrapped for fifty years. ‘Stitched it myself on my Singer machine,’ she tells Madhur, showing her a big wooden box in the bedroom corner.

‘I also have a Singer machine at home, in Kalkaji, but it’s not so big,’ says Madhur as she walks up to it and lifts the top. ‘Oi maa! Yeh to Baba Addam ké zamane ki machine hain! (Oh dear! This machine is very old!)’

Extracted with permission from Bina Nayak's Goagr@m: Misadventures of an Influencer; published by HarperCollins