Framed in History

Photo Tour of Goa in Monsoons

Monsoons, popularly described as the time of the year to stay put indoors and sip tea as the rain lashes your window pane.

Umm, not for some.

And we chose Goa, a Union territory enriched with heritage, and flecked with beaches, churches, temples and more.

We knew the sea would be fiery and there would be no water sports. But we knew something else too. There would be no crowd either. And nature would be at its beautiful best.

Our trip started at Mumbai, because we have relatives there. We booked our seats by a semi-sleeper Volvo bus, which was very comfortable and reasonably priced.

The landscape along the road that snakes through mild hilly terrain between Mumbai and Goa has an unadulterated beauty about it. The rain soaked fauna is lush green.

We were determined to stay in North Goa, because we were told that all the action is right there.

We got off at Mapusa and went to Calangute beach straightaway in the search of a hotel. Well, you can afford to take such risks in off season, don’t think of it in peak tourist seasons!!

You may well have to book your hotel three months in advance.

The options of lodging, however, are numerous and rising in Goa. There are hotels of varying budgets, guest houses, anything you may want.

We wanted to stay as close to the beach as possible, and the one we zeroed in was perfect: Hotel Goan Heritage.

Our room overlooked both the swimming pool and the sea. And a gate from the campus would open directly to the beach.

Goa offers another flexibility to the tourist: Hire your own vehicle and go wherever you want.

You may hire a Scooter, a fancy bike or a car. Hiring a tourist bus or a taxi is also possible, but that’s too ordinary a thing to do.


There is perhaps no petrol pump in Goa except Panaji. Petrol is available in roadside shops, albeit at a slightly high price, but fuel is not a problem at all.

Because you have turned up in off season, you may find perfection missing from everything.

Moss and weeds grow freely on the rain soaked monuments.

This is the entrance to Fort Aguada, which was actually a storage for water in the higher parts of Goa. An abandoned lighthouse is also here.

The Fort overlooks the sea below.

The slope down is rocky on which a dense growth of trees tip into the sea.

The horizon almost merges …

Down the road from Fort Aguada, we drive to Sinquerim beach. It is obviously the extension of Aguada.


A circular viewing gallery has been constructed, and if you stand there for even five minutes, the angry splashes of the sea would drench you.

Taj Vivanta, a five star resort, overlooks this beach.

Moving north along the coastline, you would discover Candolim Beach, characterized by this old deserted ship.

In our search for a fort called Ries Margos, we arrived at this unnamed beach.

The fort lies right opposite this viewing gallery, and is presently under renovation.

What a lovely resort this fort would make with its picture-perfect location!

For the shoppers, even in this not-so-tourist season, Goa offers a myriad variety of beachwear, junk jewellery, funky eye-gear, alcohol and sea food.

Another craze is temporary tattoos. Although the overnight artists claim that these would last a month, in all probabilities, these would last few days. If you want a permanent one, check out the tattoo studios in Goa.


This is at Baga beach, btw.

Anjuna Beach. Rocky but picturesque. You can step in the sea if you are careful.

There’s water trapped in the rocky base, and you can see tiny fishes.

Vagator is another rocky beach along the coast. The approach is from an elevated level, but if have some time in hand, and your adventurous self is active, you may venture down.

The next destination is Fort Chhapora, which is in ruins. What remains is the boundary, and you cannot make out where the inner structure were.

The wind is so strong that birds cannot fly against it.



And needless to say, the view of the sea is breathtaking.

Three beaches await to be discovered by you. The blackish sand, the gentle slope inviting you into the sea and complete ignorance by the tourists characterize them: Morgim, Aswem and Mandrem.

If you are lucky, you may witness some fishermen in action, some tending to their boats and get a feel of their daily routine.

The northernmost beach, Arambol, is popular among foreigners and other tourists as it is closest to Mumbai.

It has some trees on one side.

Our guide showed a beach further north by the name of Quickem, but no one seemed to know about it.

Next day we ventured into Panaji to book our return tickets and then move on towards Old Goa.

You have to cross the backwaters of the sea and the road is a dream to ride on.

This is Basilica of Bom Jesus. Adjoining it is St. Catherine’s Church and Archaeological museum. These three are well known tourist destinations.

They form a part of a beautiful complex of chapels and churches, which is an architect’s delight.

A road on the backside of this tourist complex leads you to Mandovi River. A ferry service is operated by the Government that carries people complete with their conveyances: two wheelers, cars, trucks and also pedestrians.

In about 15 minutes, you would be on the other side, Divar Island.

There is no tourist spot per se in Divar. It is a peaceful island with picturesque beauty. Piedade village is perhaps the only human settlement, which is sparsely populated. There’s a church and temple on top of a hill.

The tranquility of the place grips you while you drive around. Lose yourself if you will, because there is no signage. You can eventually come to the dock, to be ferried back into Old Goa.

It is also a foodie’s paradise, if you are a non vegetarian. Vegetarian preparations are equally good, don’t worry.

 Mouthwatering sea food cooked in the Konkan style is available in even the smallest joints in Goa. North Indian, Chinese, South Indian options are also there.


Must do: Enjoy a meal on the beachside with your favourite drink.

Our trip was short but we have come back very happy and rejuvenated. There are many things we did not do or see. But we have experienced Goa in a new way. We could explore in the inner roads and see how the common man lives and how the city functions beaneath its shiny armour of tourism. Indeed Goa is a place to be during tourist season where there is fun, frolic, adventure and water sports. Nevertheless, we encourage you to witness Goa in this peaceful and calm version.

Should I or not?

There's a new bus service launched in Delhi. I work for the company that manages it.

I travel almost everyday at least once. Free.

My logic is that

• I am a part of the service provider.
• I am actually on duty, because I note all deviations from rules, guide the bus drivers and conductors, intervene in case of disputes, collect commuter feedback, etc.

My family says

• Public transport is usually not a money making business. The one in Delhi is definitely not. The fact that a private body has been given the opportunity to manage the services is a positive step to attempt to minimize blemishes, and I am making things worse.
• I earn enough to pay the fare, which is fairly subsidized.

Two positives and two negatives.

What do you think?

Where will you walk?

50 posts and an Award old

I am just 50 posts old. And I have got an award: The Versatile Blogger Award. Its my first.

I am thrilled!!!
Thank you, Sushmita aka Shooting star from My Unfinished Life

Next thing that I am required to do is say 7 things about myself. Oops, let me try.

i-a) I am an optimistic person - I try to see the good things in any thing.
i-b) I smile a lot - So much so, that when you meet me or see a photo of mine, you would notice only my teeth.
ii) I am a Minimum-Cosmetics person - A sheer disaster for beauty salons and related merchants.
iii)  I am a Foodie, but a BAD cook. I actually dont have any interest, and would tend to get away by making minimum.I love chocolates and sweets.
iv-a) I have weird obsessions. I love people with good handwritings. In fact, the easiest way to impress me is by having a good writing. At the same time, all the people I have had a crush on or fallen for or ever noticed have simply pathetic handwritings. I hate men who pretend to be suave. I like people around me to be as chilled out as me.
iv-b) My other fascination is for miniatures- it could be a tiny Ganesha idol, or a small cup, anything.
iv-c) A market place and money on me is a disastrous combination. But having said that, I would only buy shoes for myself. I would ogle at photo frames, but would never buy one.
v) I love reading books and writing. Strangely, I havent ever finished a book that I have bought for myself. I have gobbled up gifted books, inherited books, borrowed books, books belonging to relatives and likewise.
vi) I love my parents, family and friends equally. And I would do anything for anyone, if you can convince me that my doing something would really help you.
vii) I am a good listener and a good preacher, so in case you are feeling low, you know where to come.

I am required to pass this award on to 15 bloggers. Permit me to hold this. I have to find people who haven't got it already. Will do that soon.

So thank you, once again, all my readers, without whom I wouldnt have been a blogger at all. And a special mention goes out to Sushmita for she has come to mean a lot more than she realizes..

Oops those heels hurt!

Confessions of a criminal

Visualize the situation. The bus is supposed to turn right at a junction, and in 99% of days, it gets caught in a red light. It suits me best if I can get off here. The bus stop prior to this junction is  a bit too behind, and the next after the turn means a bit of extra walking to my destination.

Today, the light was red when our bus reached the said spot. I requested the driver to let me off, but he refused. I nodded politely, didnt say any additional word and got off at the next defined bus stop. And started walking.

A fellow passenger, who too, had got down here, followed me. He was cursing the driver, loud enough for me to hear.

"What is the problem?", I asked.
- "Why did he not open the doors at the light?"
"Why should he? Thats no bus stop.", I explained.
-"Now you are taking sides with him? You only asked him to let you off..."

Well, I admitted to him that I was doing the wrong thing. That too, knowingly.

As he walked away, I was left wondering how irresponsible as citizens were we. Ok at least I am. I would throw an ice-cream stick on a roadside if I cannot see a dustbin within my power of vision. I would plead bus drivers to drop me between bus stops just because it is possible. I cannot ask a metro driver to drop me midway on a track, can I? I do many such wrongs; will list them slowly.

Keep your bag clean

"Madam, your ticket please"

- I was cozily sleeping on a window seat of a bus enroute my office, and this was a checker.

Random checks do happen on our bus routes in Delhi. If you are caught without one or with an undervalue ticket, you would have to pay a fine, may be jailed for two days or both.

"Yes, of course", I replied, waking up. Trying hard to recall where I had shoved it in, I started searching in the most easily available pockets. But whatever came out were of various values of previous journeys on different routes, which have no validity at present.  I dug and dug.

"Did you throw it?", taunts the bald man standing next to my seat.

"No, I have it", I assure him, not looking up. I realize I am delaying everybody. "I have a proper ticket, please let me go", I pleaded.

"If this is the case, you should be able to produce it."... Ugh, this guy is adamant.

Not that anyone was complaining, but I offered to get off the bus with them. They agreed. I sat on the seats of the bus stop, took all my time as I drew out each old ticket after another. I kept aside anything that was not a bus ticket: receipts of my tailor, someone's business card, and things like that. Ultimately, from the most unlikely pocket, emerged a freshly bought ticket bearing the requisite serial number. The checker was watching me all the time, quite bored by then, and the moment I drew out the correct piece of paper, he gave out a sigh of relief.

"See, you wasted ten minutes of my time", he said.

"But I told you I had it", I snapped back.

"Now let me go. Do I look like a truant?", I asked him, pulling myself to my full height. I was dressed in formals, my hair was freshly washed and loose, flying in the breeze, giving me an aura. And I had the ticket that I was about to be fined for not having. I was one up.

The man put me on the next bus to my destination. Luckily the frequency is pretty fair, and the roads were fairly empty that time of the day, so I reached office comfortably to take on the day ahead.

Moral of the story: Keep your handbag clean. Learn to throw off stuff you dont need. 

What I had been up to the last two months

Surveying.

Rather supervising surveys among Metro and Bus Passengers that had to be done for a project. That makes you quite a villain among the enumerators who do the work for you.. they are scared about when and where I would crop up and what fallacies in their work would I find.

I claim to be a soft spoken nice girl, but ask those boys and girls, and you would be in for a surprise!!

It was a great experience, however. Not scolding enumerators, but speaking to people. Actual commuters. Consumers of the services our beloved authorities provide. Victims of our fallacies.

Can I take you somewhere?

Missing Birds' Bureau

 Found: A Baby pigeon
Age: Few days?

One evening, as we were walking out of the parking lot of our housing society, we noticed something alive in the corner: it was a baby pigeon huddled up in a corner.

Too small to fly, the poor being had been perhaps attacked by crows or dogs or cats... because it was badly injured in the head.

My brother in law picked the bird up and brought it upstairs. We cleaned the wounds with a cotton; and put some antiseptic cream on them.

We dug out a shoe-box from the store, punctured few holes in the cardboard, placed a bowl of water and some grains in the corner, and put the bird in its make shift cage.

In the morning, I was surprised by the confidence with which he was walking around in the shoe-box. But by the evening, he chose to go back to the outer world...

This Winter

If you are not wearing socks,

its either because

• you are superhuman
• you dont have a pair

Training our HR Skills

A Team Building Programme initiated by the HR Dept had got all of us very excited, as it meant two days out of office, and great fun. We assembled early in the morning in the office premises before embarking an airconditioned bus that was to take us to Fort Ramgarh, Panchkula. The people selected for this trip were from different departments; who hardly knew each other. The first round of gelling started by people getting acquainted with each other’s names, departments, location of present residences and likewise. Some games rounds happened to keep up the banter.. because the age group was quite diverse as well.. before we stopped for breakfast, after which all of us dozed off.

The Fort turned out to be a complex alongside the highway, with its name recorded in the Limca Book of World Records for the tallest wooden door: a whopping 37 feet. Rooms were divided, keys handed over. We re-assembled for lunch after which we were ferried to a nearby complex consisting of 97% open area. A treasure hunt is on the cards. Divided into two teams, each one of us was handed a list of clues. We huddled together, and worked out strategies with each other, most of whom were complete strangers until a little while ago. We scurry around the ground like children, and announce merrily every time an object is found. Next task is to build a sand castle. Its strange, how some of us took charge, and guided others to work. A senior member scurrying up and down to fetch water. A middle aged member digging sand. The younger chaps helping in the ramming and cutting. By now, we had become comfortable, and were giggling and pulling each other’s legs. As dusk drooped on us, we were asked to play Volleyball, not with our hands but a sheet of cloth. There was a fairly high net, and it took effort from all of us to hurl the ball across.. and to catch it by running together as a system, holding the cloth. There was a session where we got to discuss Employee Issues, but that was something we were not keen on, so tired were all of us! We could barely have dinner before we went to sleep readily.

The next morning task was about standing on a blanket, when it was fully open, then folded into half and further into quarter. Huddling, lifting the lighter people, we managed to fit. Then, a four way tug of war. Divided in four teams, we exerted our weight on the poor ropes!! And finally, it was a game of cricket. The boys were doubtful about cricketing abilities of the girls, and hence posted us on the boundary lines. Most of us had to do nothing, as the ball would stop in the sandy outfield. I was the unfortunate one who had to grab a high catch, but it was easy, as the ball came slowly down to me. We returned to our Fort-turned into Hotel, had lunch and started on the way back. We were gifted a coffee mug each, which stands a constant reminder of the fun we had!!

Amritsar in 36 hours

“What’s the use of a mid-week holiday?”, I remarked, as I glanced at the list of holidays that declared Wednesday, 17^th November, 2010 as a holiday on account of Eid. “Had it been on a Friday, we could have got three days off in a row”.

Things started falling in place almost by magic. My brother-in-law’s convocation for his post graduate degree gets scheduled on Saturday. My father in law agreed to visit us for about a week. On the Sunday preceding the 17^th, we are reflecting on possibilities of my father in law going to some nearby place and my husband, who is relatively free at present, to accompany him. Then the brainwave comes, “Why don’t you use your Wednesday-holiday?” The question is shot at my brother in law and myself, the office going people, who are normally bound by official duties on weekdays.

Where, where, where.. options start cropping up and get discarded due to shortage of time. The old man murmurs softly, “I would like to see the Golden Temple...”

So rare is the phenomenon when a parent expresses his wish, that there was no question of considering an alternative. Amritsar is finalized. Modes planned. We start Tuesday night, utilize the “Wednesday holiday” and return by Thursday morning.

There was a project located in Amritsar sometime back. Unfortunately, I was not part of the team assigned to it. I had been watching people going for site visits, surveys, data collection, meetings, what not. I had been hearing stories, seeing photographs, but never came the opportunity for me to experience Amritsar myself. And lo and behold, everything is planned in that one moment.

The trip was hectic but nice. Golden Temple, the prime attraction, is a place visited by thousands of people round the clock everyday, yet it is clean, serene, organized. So many people have food in the community lunch free of cost. Its all in the name of God. We loved our stay there, although I am quite an atheist. A dip in the holy pool. The cold water. The colourful fishes, fairly big. We also visited Jallianwala Bagh, that stands as a quiet testimony to the tyranny of the British during their rule in India. And finally, Wagah Border. A shiver runs down your spine when you see a gate, marking the Pakistan border right in front. Political boundaries suddenly come to life. Its strange that we can walk up to a certain limit, they can progress till another, and a land in between that is no one’s. One wrong step across would cause war. We watch the Retreat ceremony on the Indian side, where the flag is folded respectfully at the end of the day. We return to the urban core for evening snacks and dinner, and catch the train back.

To the "Anonymous"

I received a comment from an anonymous source in my blog today. Actually, I received the notifcation in my mail, and when I checked by blog, the comment isn't visible. This person acknowledged the fact that one of my posts helped him to complete his college assignment, and he would like to have further details through e-mail. But my friend, I do not have your mail id, neither do I have any idea of the kind of information you are looking for. Please put in a mail to me at anupama06@gmail.com, and I would try to help you as far as possible.

Afternoon Siesta

School Days: Tag

I think it is my responsibility to answer a tag if someone has taken the trouble to tag me. But, at the same time, I would not tag anyone in particular. Anyone is free to take the self interview..

1. What was your favorite back to school item to buy?
Well, nothing. During our "junior school" days, our school bus fellow would gather us together in a line, and into the bus straightaway. When in high school, I used to try some of the pickles, which were, incidentally, sold near the junior school building. Irony?

2. What was your favorite subject in school?
I was Jack of all trades, master of none. I was above average in most subjects, but not excellent. I did not exactly hate, but I can say that I did not like literature, history, geography and any other descriptive subject. I had always been a more analytical kind of person, so I liked applying my knowledge rather than learning pages by heart.

3. Did you ride the bus or get a ride from Mom/Carpool?
I have answered this in Q.1... a privately operated school bus used to ferry my brother and me from home to school and back during the earlier years. Later, the two of us would walk down from school, although Mom used to give us the tram fare everyday. We saved it as our pocket money.. spent it on pickles, and all the weird stuff my little brother could think of..

4.What is your favorite memory from your school days?
Lots!!!!..... here's some:
a) First crush
b) Part of School Rowing Team
c) Fainting on the school grounds
d) Bunking classes (strangely as we grew older, we became truant)
e) Our teachers, their styles of teaching, the way they walked.. and how reverent of them were we, even though we loved them (and vice versa..). Our school is in the Guiness Book of World Records for the largest number of students, yet our teachers can still recognize each other by name, face (even our aged faces), and can recall our antics..
f) My friends... no amount of writing is enough
g) The first 100/100 in Computers in Class VI
h) The first 36/100 in Maths in Class IV.. and the perfect 100/100 in Class X Boards (called Madhyamik)
i) The premises of the school...

Weekend Trip

We had planned a getaway to Nalagarh in Himachal Pradesh this weekend where Friday was also an off day. We wanted a tranquil place, free from numerous tourists or commercialism. The traveller’s guide and internet projected this little town as a paradise for honeymoon couples, a place for long walks and scenic beauty... just what we wanted!

What excited us all the more was no one seemed to know, or even have heard about the place. So off we went on Thursday night. About seven hours later, at about 4.40 AM, the bus dropped us at a deserted junction, “This IS Nalagarh”, the driver asserted.

We looked around doubtfully at whatever we could make out in the dark: a four armed fork shaped junction with a traffic police shelter in the middle. A dimly-lit clearing on the other side meant to be the bus stand. One arm of the junction was an obvious market street, with series of closed shops. A tea shop was open on another arm. That was perhaps the only sign of life that could be seen. We hung around the bus stand for about an hour as the town awoke to life. Auto rickshaws, shared automobiles, school buses, local buses, regional buses, trucks and lorries. Sipping tea, we studied the flow pattern to assess the directions of development and decide on our first plunge to Nalagarh. Our mission was mainly to find a hotel.

Few metres down the junction, we found one. Encouraged, we chose to delve further. It was a straight road with sparse development around. We came across a hotel called ‘Hotel River View’… “There must be a river around”, we inferred. We walked down the slope carrying our bags with us, finally reaching Chikni River, now just a rivulet used mainly for washing of trucks. There was a broken bridge, but the trucks had found a way to reach the water.. and the water was shallow enough to allow crossing. People were also crossing the river effortlessly, although the current was fairly strong. I had a try myself.

We came back to the bus stand and enquired around for Nalagarh fort, which was apparently the only tourist attraction. Well, no one seemed to know what we were talking about, except a policeman. We checked in a hotel, freshened up and caught up on some sleep. A few hours later, we had lunch and went on an excursion to find the fort. It was on the higher part of the city which we reached through a mix of roads sloping up and steep flights of steps. The Nalagarh Fort Complex entry stood in front of us after quite a climb. Inside, a sharp V shaped junction offered two choices of way, but no signage. We went down one, realized that was the wrong path, came back and ventured in the second.

The Fort has now been converted into a heritage hotel. Let us imagine it to be a big beautiful house, and not a fort. With due respects to anyone concerned, I am sorry to say that the flavor of a fort was totally gone. The renovation work seemed to be a confused mix of architectural styles as well as a mere plastering and painting kind of a job. You think of it as a bungalow and you will like the play of levels, use of various elements, planters, lights, etc. Both of us being architects, the feeling of disappointment perhaps had an additional multiplier.

Nalagarh thus turned out to be an industrial town which had the potential but lacked the interest in tourism.. the local people, taxi drivers inclusive, were hardly aware of what was there to see in there, and also the places one could go to. It is a place to drive to, so that you have a car (or any personalized motorized mode) to check out the surroundings as well. The natural landscape is beautiful and would have been great for long quiet walks only if there weren’t trucks and buses brushing past you as there is no footpath. There is no proper restaurant, just dhabas.. no markets other than those for daily needs, vegetables, medicines and likewise.

Next morning, we went to Chandigarh. As architects, this is a city we have studied about since our college days, its buildings, its spatial pattern, perpendicular system of roads, roundabouts… and somehow, neither of us have been there. This opportunity we grabbed, and checked out most of the city, the capitol complex designed by one of the greatest architects, Le Corbusier and the Rock Garden, a major tourist attraction.

I guess criticism was in our minds from the beginning. After Delhi, the luxurious width of roads and literally huge radii of roundabouts seemed to be such a waste. Even Le Corbusier’s designs, which we had attempted to copy as students, seemed as plastic, huge waste of concrete, little respect for land utilization. Rock Garden, spread over 12 acres, seemed to be another plastic effort. But slowly, we realized that the creator was a road inspector, who had an innovative idea to compile the industrial waste into a garden, and the sheer effort is worthy of appreciation. The element of surprise is also amazing. There are places to relax, and no restrictions on how long you spend inside. A gallery of aquariums, camel rides and a court with swings are some innovative inclusions.

We returned home from Chandigarh on Saturday night itself, recharged our batteries on Sunday to be able to join work from Monday with rejuvinated enthusiasm.

Sick of Change

I am sick of change. I detest the idea of change, getting used to the change, and it happens again. I have started hating that.Maybe I am growing old now..

I do not want a change of home. So much so, I do not feel like going back to my hometown.

I do not need a job change anymore. No problem with poor increments or promotions. No interest in new opportunities. I am sure my present job has a lot to offer... much more than I have acquired.

Please leave my cell phone, life insurance policies, credit cards, e-mail ids, handbags, taste of cosmetics, etc unchanged. I am happy with what I have.

Even if Appollo, the Greek God, comes into my life, I would request to be left alone. I cannot start life afresh anymore.

It is a weird feeling... My approach is becoming lazy, "Let things be..."

Independence Day

August 14,2010
I needed to post few envelopes. In today’s world of e-mail and telephones, the post office has ceased to exist in our lives. When confronted with a situation wherein one needs to visit one, you have to ransack your memory to recall where you had last seen the nearest post office.

Anyways, there I was, in the local shopping complex near my home, scanning buildings – I knew there was a post office somewhere.. My line of sight was directed upwards, and the onus was on the people around to avoid banging into me.

My search was interrupted by a gush of wind caused by someone brushing past me at cyclonic speed. I caught a glimpse of the guy: it was one of my closest friends, walking in a world of his own. He turned as I involuntarily gasped out his name, smiled and joined me.

“Happy Independence Day in advance”, he wished.

I was a bit taken aback, didn’t wish him back. Instead, I asked him, “Are you wearing orange because of that?”, pointing to the saffron garment he had on him.

”No no”, he negated me, going on to explain that it was a mere coincidence.

Rewind two years back.

I was having lunch with a senior of mine from school. He mentioned how his wife went every year to a popular market place to buy tricoloured bangles every year on 15th August… With extreme difficulty, I could manage to refrain from the temptation to ask why a set cannot be re-worn every year… or what would one do with more than one set of exactly similar bangles..

Somehow, I cannot relate to greeting each other for a happy independence day… what are you exactly wishing for? A good day? It sounds like wishing someone a great year ahead on New Year’s Eve.

15th August, is a national holiday. And I was feeling bad to have not got a holiday as it was a Sunday this year. A series of greetings had started flowing in right from early morning. I answered each, and asked them the significance of this day to their individual selves, and forwarded the query to anyone I could think of.

“Power cut whole of last night. Care a damn for independence day” was the first reply.

“I am travelling for work,” was the second, complete with the query,”Any better way to celebrate Independence day?”

“Independence, in a corrupt nation?” jeered the third.

“Independence Day to me is remembering thousands of people with great sense of pride in their achievements. They laid down their very lives so that we could have independence of making our choices in life… such sacrifices are a source of inspiration”: Yes, this is something I would relate to.

“Watch out for my blog on this topic” – are you on an advertisement spree? I mean, you have all rights to write, but why create hype?

“Responsibility”: - One word. Crisp and clear.

“Let us try within our might to eradicate poverty and spread education in our country. Not just raise the flag and sing the National Anthem”: Yes, I am willing to go beyond, if required.

“Hope the day will come one day when there will be no killing, no unemployment, no illiteracy.. poverty could be fully eradicated and smile can be given to every Indian”…

"Mixed reactions...this day means a lot, but I am also said" and someone avoided the question totally,"Too much to share in a sms"..

How was this Sunday different? A day you thank your lucky stars that you were born in an independent nation... where people, especially women, can do whatever they want, have freedom of speech... thank those on the border who fight for us...