Anita and Amit visit Goa and return with mixed feelings.

 We went back this time, after three years, and things had changed. The power boaters were there, stinking up the air and oiling the water, and offering you ‘dolphin rides’. There were tons of small, ugly resorts. Suddenly, it was Calangute again, without the milling crowds - for now.

And there was a new vulnerability around as well, a certain fragile air - because small fishing villages were clinging on to the fringes of the land not bought over by the resorts as yet. We saw this in many places: great Uglinesses of concrete nestled in clumps of green. There’s nothing even remotely after-the-fact-ish here. It feels as if you’re standing by and watching a murder; sighing even as they gut the body while it’s still alive.

But their daughter, N, loves it:

…she tells my mom, “Goa is my netti place, and we have kolla-korzhies (water birds) there too.” Try correcting her that a. it’s native and not netti and b. it’s not her ‘native place’; and you are met with stern denials on both scores!