I arrived in Goa at the tail-end of October, when the rest of India was glittering under Diwali lights, and my phone flickered with invitations, chai, mithai, house-hopping. Instead, I was rolling a suitcase across Dabolim Airport for the fifth time in the past two years. Ordinarily, familiarity risks dulling a place. But this time, something felt different before the journey even began.
