Ruchira Bose, 44, sets up a picnic under the chikoo tree in her garden while her dog, Sophie, sunbathes on the grass nearby. She looks out at fields where peacocks strut and cows graze. In October last year, the digital content and commerce strategy adviser traded her 29th-floor flat in India ’s financial capital Mumbai for a sunshine-coloured bungalow in Goa, where she now grows pumpkins, beans, okra, cashews, pomegranates and cucumbers while studying permaculture. Goa, on the country’s southwest coast, seemed a better choice than the outskirts of Mumbai for growing her own produce, and also for basics such as Wi-fi and electricity, she explained. “The other reason was that Goa has a community of like-minded people who care about sustainability. I didn’t want to move to a place where I was totally isolated and I didn’t have a social life.” This relaxed, stress-free life has taught her that there are alternative ways of working and that it may even include a nap in the afternoon – something she had never considered while living in Mumbai. ‘What do you do? Shut down everything?’ Pandemic hits Goa hard Bose is not alone. After the Covid-19 pandemic hit, city life became stifling for many Indians. Overnight, a lifestyle of going out, parties, and even work became inaccessible. As states started opening up, people headed to the hills or to the beach for workcations. The Goan concept of susegad (a content, quiet life) became even more appealing. For Caroline D’Cruz, a 33-year-old deputy editor , the move to the coastal state from landlocked Delhi was based on four decisions: her dog’s love for swimming, cleaner air to escape the city’s winter pollution, fewer Covid-19 cases, and the freedom to work from where she wanted because offices were shut. Now she and her partner work from a villa with a garden, growing their own spinach and pumpkins, and making the most of the quiet life while they can. For some, the shift has always been a dream, but the pandemic made it happen much sooner than imagined. “My husband ran a very successful chain called Brewbot in Bombay [Mumbai]. He had to shut it down due to Covid-19 and then there was nothing really holding us back,” said hairstylist Nisha Sinh, 40, who moved to Goa in November. She had lived in Mumbai her whole life, but her plan was always to retire to Goa and open a bed and breakfast. She is currently freelancing while her sons, aged 13 and 8, enjoy the beach culture they never experienced in Mumbai. Self-proclaimed gypsy Srimoyi Bhattacharya, 47, founder of PR firm Peepul Consulting, plans to permanently settle in Goa. She and her husband took almost a year to plan the move from Delhi because they wanted an unfurnished house in a quiet area that had a beautiful view and a swimming pool. They own a house in Siolim and holidayed in Goa every five to six weeks when they previously lived in Mumbai , but they are now renting from an architect. “We have been given very good advice that it’s very different to live than to visit and we just wanted to get a sense of how life would be in a slightly more remote area. Our plan is that we want to start looking for land and start building in the next two years.” She and her husband, daughter and dog have only been in the rented house in a remote village in North Goa for a few weeks, but she feels it is a life-changing experience to be among nature. India’s lavish weddings, sidelined by the coronavirus, are back at the altar For city dwellers, there are also trade-offs. The public transport system in Goa is lacking with no cab services that big cities enjoy. Being close to nature means encountering spiders, lizards, frogs, mice, mosquitoes and snakes. Villages face power cuts and spotty internet service. But Sinh says they were prepared for it. “We knew there would be a few challenges and it wasn’t going to be like Bombay, but nothing has made us pull out our hair and say, ‘We’re going back tomorrow’.” And there is another concern: integrating into the community. Bose, who has also lived in Paris, Hong Kong, and Singapore, found that people have been warm and friendly, but there is definitely a divide. “The funny thing is Goa is part of India but you still feel like an expat here.” GROUND REALITY In North Goa, the sleepy village of Assagao (the village of flowers), has become known as the ‘South Delhi of Goa’. In recent years, Delhi and Mumbai natives have made it their home , giving it a more cosmopolitan feeling as restaurants and stores popped up. For locals, this gentrification has meant a dilution of culture and disruption of village life. There has been an increase in concrete complexes straight out of a big city, somewhat out of character when compared to the stand-alone traditional village houses known for their vibrant, colourful facades. The state has also suffered a waste management problem, while the traffic has become bothersome. Trees are being cut down. Old structures are being razed. Forests and fields are disappearing. Locals have had to find new places to get away from the crowded beaches and tourist hubs. Mumbai-based Goan freelance writer Joanna Lobo, 34, said she had stopped going to the places she visited when she was younger. The irony is that what you are running away from [in cities] is chasing you here Angela Ferrão The more people come in, the more construction is required, and Lobo fears, “it would get so crowded, so chaotic, so messy, that the essence of Goa will get destroyed”. As Goan cartoonist Angela Ferrão, 51, remarked, “The irony is that what you are running away from [in cities] is chasing you here.” There is another change that pinches locals: the growing property prices. Goans say they have been outpriced by Delhi and Mumbai arrivals for many years now, and with the pandemic further increasing demand, land values and property rates have shot up astronomically. India’s tycoons take private jets to Goa, Maldives to escape coronavirus-hit cities Meanwhile, Kumar Siddharth, 36, CEO of Citihomes Realty Goa, is fielding calls from clients non-stop. Business increased 50 per cent last year, he said, with high demand for luxury homes with private gardens and pools. “The cost of property has gone up 20-25 per cent in Goa.” A four-bedroom detached villa in the coastal belt of North Goa can fetch up to US$552,000 while three-bedroom flats in the city belt start at US$137,000 and go up to US$386,000. Villas with sea views are hard to find in North Goa but that does not deter property hunters. Second homes and holiday homes have become a good investment, with a 20 per cent increase in resale value and huge rental mark-ups, Siddharth explained. In recent years, the construction of villas and holiday complexes has rapidly increased to meet growing demand. In 2015, Goa had the highest number of locked homes in the country because many are only seasonally used. LOCAL SENTIMENT Terence Nunes, 65, has lived in Goa since he was 10 and remembers his native state as an agrarian society, with few industries or job opportunities. After Indian independence, when cities grew and industries started developing, people migrated from the villages in search of better opportunities. “There has been an influx over the years of people from different states coming and settling in Goa,” said the retired hospitality executive. Tourism , of course, also contributed to Goa’s popularity. The state reported that 16.43 per cent of its revenue comes from tourism and 35 per cent of its 1.5 million population is employed in the sector. It welcomed 8 million tourists in 2019, almost all of them domestic - only 937,113 were classified as international travellers. But Goans have not entirely warmed up to these settlers or tourists. The Konkani word bhingta , which means groundnut, is used as an insult for outsiders (non-Goans), especially to the ‘bad kind’ who disrespect their land and are disruptive. Lights, camera, marriage: in India, pre-wedding shoots are clicking with couples Ferrão feels that the new settlers have no real stake in Goa because they can leave if things get tough, while Goans are constantly fighting for different causes; most recently, it was over protecting the Mollem biodiversity hotspot from development. She wonders what value people bring to Goa when they move to the state. Nunes has an answer. He believes there are people who have blended into the culture, who respect Goa’s heritage and nature, and who have restored beautiful homes. “They have not gone into housing complexes and multistorey buildings. They have preserved that land.” Locals take some time to warm up to outsiders, but many have successfully integrated themselves as part of the community. So, what advice would he give to people who are trying to make a home for themselves in Goa? “Be friendly, but not too familiar. Let people accept you and get comfortable with you,” Nunes concludes.