We had long been in Pune, by now we all should be conferred Punekars title like any Maharastrian born citizens but we were not born here.

Our look and meaty food habit were the main factors for disqualification although we all had the same passport with the same emblem. Its diversity of language, culture and climate was unknown to a majority of its population. Curious many asked for my nationally and about my culture despite my precise explanation with starker prove they would disown me.

I was someone who was disowned by his country fellows simply because he came from the other corner of the country. It was not my fault it was rather the fault of an India in 60 still spawning enormous figure of illiterate people in the country. I was not chafed but was just merely disappointed.

Again, I being the unwilling citizen of this country was also less aware of the things of many things except for those classroom studies with atlas on the desk. A country better explored and critically examined by others nevertheless less discovered by its very citizens.

No wonder more books on India, that I had read, were written in the most descriptive fashion by outsiders while its citizen were busy in verbal ejaculation and dwelling in dichotomized politics.

Like any fervent young bloke I set out to make peace with my prolonged desire. The bus took off on time and it carved out its way through the crowded outskirt of Pune for few hours ,then to offer us a serene and timeless place in a short span of time.

My lady found my shoulder as a restful pillow but the weight pressed me against the seat, waking me up with a sore shoulder. The pain was dissipated by the landscape.

Under the moonlit night there was the endless corn fields separated by rocky mountains strewn here and there and the trees with only their roots glued on the reclining boulders whereas their trunks and branches branching out to the corns fields appeared as if they were flirting hastily with the corns plants before the suicidal farmers could harvest.

The moonlight that lit up the darkness and bestowed us to glimpse the hidden place now had gone and I had enough time to dwell in slumber land till the dawn. Why places in this country were so unlike? What I thought was glaring moonlight turned out to be sunlight.

I woke up to it and realized that I was there with my logy lady in Panaji, capital of Goa.

We got off from the bus and scanned the Portuguese designed town with until we spotted some hotels which we checked but to our disappointment what we found was rather dilapidated and their crumbling state didn't appeal to us much despite its wonderful location nearby the port.

We took the slimy and slippery winding steps and ceased to unload our overloaded packs to have a conversation with some mini-van driver who knew the beaches we had found out from the guide book. As the fare he asked was not much so we agreed to go with him.

In a span of few minutes the mini-van was now snaking its ways through the green paddy fields and sparsely scattered coconut trees jutting toward the sky as if no heavenly monster could obstruct the green miles.

Soon we got quite close to the beach, Vagatore, there were festoons and billboards which sprang up over the paddy fields and some leaning and stuck on the coconut trees. By the time we got to the hotel the rain started hammering as though cleansing the hangovers and intoxication from last night with its pure streaks.

Somewhere in the evening we rented a kinetic scooter after a lengthy haggling for Rs.100 per day and headed off to the deserted beaches owing to the persistent effort of the rain. I would say it was the perfect place to cocoon with someone who I truly loved but I was there with a grumbling lady with whom I was going to test the true spirit of romance.

On the second day we both went to the beach and on our way to the beach we stopped by a min-shop to buy a bottle of wine but the solicitous store keeper was rather willing to sell us cannabis than what we wanted, oblivious to our indifference.

The tide was strong and the storm came and abandoned us to our own device until we decided to leave. I swam for a while whereas she took refuge in a dug up trench with body coated with German-made sunscreen lotion.

When I got back from the water there was a horde of local tourists marching with cacophonous giggles and uncomprehending conversation, first their ogling and desperate expressions compelled two Korean ladies to retreat from the beach to a safer place to enjoy the beauty from a distant place.

While the Koreans withdrew they, like victorious warriors, continued their march only to halt in front of the lady who they spotted with legs exposed and coated with German-made sunscreen lotion. Perhaps the beauty of her splayed legs augmented and stirred the suppressed emotion within them.

A couple of pot-bellied mustachioed men started their Baywatch run with their vests on while their bellies uncontrollably flapping up and down.

The remaining mates of theirs ogled at the legs and approached, as if, to get their hunted animal but she, liked a cornered creature, hit back with screams and bellow which shocked them, signaling them to rearrange their strategies.

Amid half rumination they were caught by the arrival of the man who was away in the water for a while.

Now joined by the blaring whistles and the clattering clubs of the policemen and soon shown their way to a place where they could translate their imaginary-run into a floppy one, at least rather practical.

To be continued ...