We were packed like sardines inside the mini-van between packs and apologetic tourist for 7 hours and by the time we got off the bus we could barely move our legs and there were cramps in every part of the body.

The cramps subsided from my body instantly I saw fern-coated mountain and the glistening gorges. I stood by the end of the road overlooking the deep and glistening gorges pondering over the exact word but the effort was watered down with the swarming of hotelier apparently blocking the view.

Simla sitting on one part of the Himalayan Mountains once housed the officers of British Raj was still the same place with the brightness and same texture. It now housed the Indian bureaucrats and the city was kept as clean as it had been.

Cars and motorbikes were not allowed in downtown Simla only horses could be relied on as the healthy mean of transportation.

The British-built church, the red-carpeted cinema hall and the blocks of shops perching on the edge with faded and rusted pictures of the British patronages pasted on their smudged walls still drawing customers with colonial hubris it was the city which I found quite different from the rest of the colonial cities I had been to.

Bombay and Kolkata, despite their reputation of being the places of British settlements could be some of the most disorganized cities in the world. Choking on traffic polluted air and contaminated rivers.

A short hike from the town was the way to the discovery point while hiking we stumbled over swanky bungalows from the colonial era which, sometimes, appeared like being patrolled by the apes. The trouble was one's belongings could be confiscated by a gang of big monkeys.

When one big monkey gently approached a lady while six of them stood staring at her signaling that they meant real business the pitiable and petrified lady gave in to the gang of apes. I was flabbergasted and my intention to rescue the poor lady was too late.

When spectators become victims they feel the real things everything is fair and equalized. We continued hiking and were close to the temple, which was at the same spot where discovery point was, and we halted for a while to examine the beauty and feel the fresh air for that I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the generous gift of nature.

Something quite heavy landed on my back and fell off by the time I opened my eyes there was nothing except for a big monkey with my glasses in its hand.

Dumfounded and worried that I would not be able to view the beauty of the place until I got myself a new pair I pondered over the tricks to get the glasses back but the veteran monkey knew the game better anybody there. I turned around and saw a young man sitting on a big boulder with his feet dangling.

As he had a stave in his hand I approached him with a selfish motive. After I narrated what had happened a while ago he suggested me to get a packet of nuts so that I could get my glasses back. He was right.

When I approached the smart creature he figured out that I had something for him in the store. He crawled toward me and stuck out the hand holding my glasses indicating that I could have my glasses back only if offered him what I had bought. We swapped and picked our way to the discovery point.

We already prolonged our stay in Simla since the desire within us to stick around just to be away from the cacophony of other big cities in India resurrected every now and then.

There was the torrential rain almost nagging us to wake up and confront our postponed duties in Pune. We took the same bus and contemplated over what Delhi would be like. We wanted to worry about Delhi but the passengers with us in the bus didn't give us the opportunity to do so.

There were a strange group traveling with buckets and other dishes while making the best use of their belongings and bugging the others with their juvenile percussion. The short stop came when it stopped in front of a dabba, a roadside store, to attend the nature call.

To assume that the call of nature could be attended at a crowded place was rather ingenuous but we had no choice. Instead of grumbling I stood close to my lady minding the beauty ensuring at the same that it was not seen by anybody.

The heat and the melee welcomed us in Delhi and we struggled to take a better look of the famous mosque, Red fort and the Presidential palace. At the mosque I was not allowed because of my short which was easily compromised after I wrapped my knees with a piece of cloth.

Doing things for the sake of doing and waiting for people to feel the senseless power of theirs could be imposed on others. The presidential palace stood out as something magnificent and an imposing reminder of how the British ruled the country.

There were the pruned hedges and the beautiful garden guarded by the mustachioed security personnel with their waxed whiskers swinging to the tune of the warm wind. Some of them had no control over their emotion at the sight of a beautiful lady walking past them. Theirs was rather vexing and the comments were markedly treating women as piece of meat. It was expected since we were in a myriad.

It goes without saying that the country has come long way and the big talk of 'shining India' is also true, however, that, unfortunately, confines to the cities, where conscious people and intelligentsia strive and brag about what the country has become of.

To draw a comparison between the western part of the country with Wild Bihar and the slaughter houses that the country has been maintaining in the states of Kashmir and in the north-eastern states certainly contradicts the glorified democratic picture that the representatives have been drawing.

The places where the foreign media and tourists have access are re-explored and rediscovered through different prisms whereas denying that exploration and discovery of those haunted parts is equivalent to living in the state of denial. No wonder bloody events have become so ubiquitous.

It's time the decision makers change their paradigm.

Concluded ...