NCERT Solutions Poorvi Chapter 5 A Homage to Our Brave Soldiers — Let us think and reflect

flame : valour :: wreath : respect

The lights are planned so that they “transform the monument's landscape as sunlight changes from dawn to dusk”.

In other words, the memorial does not look the same all day. As the sun moves, the light on the obelisk, the walls and the trees keeps changing, and the whole landscape seems to be made new — soft at dawn, bright at noon, golden at dusk, and glowing around the eternal flame after dark. A visitor who stays a few hours sees several different monuments in one.

It is an opinion.

The flame that never goes out suggests that the memory of the fallen soldiers will never go out either.

Soumya calls it “a metaphor for eternal stories of courage and valour”, and the letter explains it further on page 184: “The Amar Jawan Jyoti flame symbolises the immortality of the spirit of fallen soldiers with the assurance that the nation will never forget their sacrifice.”

C. admiring

“I have heard a lot about it.”

Ananda has never been to the memorial, but the line shows she already knew of it — which is why Soumya's letter interests her so much rather than surprising her.

Because all that such people see is the structure — the stone, the statue, the tall edifice — and not the human story behind it.

A visitor who walks past quickly, or who has never lost anyone to war and has no connection with the Armed Forces, reads the place the way one reads any large building: something impressive that was built to mark an event. Ananda gently corrects this in the next sentence — “In my view, it is also an expression of deep gratitude…” Notice that she says ‘also’, not ‘not’: she does not call those people wrong, only incomplete.

We conduct special competitions at school to commemorate our Independence day.

“In my view,”

Other phrases in the extract that soften a statement into an opinion are “Some people might see…” and “I was happy to hear…”. But the clearest opinion marker is “In my view”, because it names the owner of the idea.

Ananda refers to the sacrifice of soldiers as ‘supreme’ sacrifice because they give up their own lives — the most precious thing anyone has — so that the country's sovereignty and integrity, and the safety of strangers they will never meet, are protected.

The National War Memorial is significant because it is the country's permanent record of, and thank-you to, the soldiers who have died in its service since 1947.

• It names people, not battles. Each brick is a tablet; there are 29,000 of them, carrying more than 26,000 names in golden letters — from the Indo-China conflict of 1962, the Indo-Pak Wars of 1965 and 1971, the Kargil War of 1999 and after. Sacrifice stops being a number and becomes a person.
• It keeps the cost of freedom visible. As the letter says, monuments like this matter “so that we should never forget the cost of freedom. We are aware, always, of the pain and horrors of war.”
• Its design carries meaning. Four concentric circles — Amar Chakra (immortality), Veerta Chakra (bravery), Tyag Chakra (sacrifice) and Raksha Chakra (protection) — say the whole thing in stone, with the Amar Jawan Jyoti burning at the centre.
• It inspires. Soumya leaves it wanting “to live a life worthy of the sacrifices of our heroes”, and Ananda's class decides to visit.

His citation shows all three qualities, one after the other, in a single action at Gangasagar on the eastern front in 1971.

He received serious injuries and “succumbed to them after the capture of the objective”. He was awarded the Param Vir Chakra posthumously. What makes the story worth telling is not that he killed, but that he kept going after he was wounded, so that the men behind him would live.

The app carries the memorial to people who cannot travel to Delhi.

• It reaches everyone. Ananda writes that it “provides answers to our queries in 21 languages” — a student in Assam, Kerala or Nagaland can read about the same heroes in her own language.
• It is interactive. She calls it “very interactive”; instead of reading a plaque you can search a name, follow a story, look at the murals — “The murals on the walls are enchanting.”
• It answers questions. Soumya's letter begins from questions — “Who were these brave Indian people? What were their names? Where did they come from?” An app that answers queries is exactly what such curiosity needs.
• It costs nothing to share. A phone in a classroom in any village becomes a doorway to the memorial, so awareness spreads far beyond those who can afford the trip.

Because we are enjoying, every single day, something that other people paid for with their lives.

• We owe them our ordinary days. Ananda puts it simply: “Their sacrifices enable us to walk freely in our country without fear of enemy threats.” School, markets, festivals, letters between friends — all of it rests on somebody standing guard.
• They are still doing it. Soldiers serve in snow, desert and sea, away from their families, in peace time as much as in war.
• Remembering is the only payment possible. Nothing can be given back to a soldier who has died. What can be given is memory — a wreath, a silence, a name read out at the assembly — and the assurance to the families that the country has not forgotten.
• It keeps us honest about war. Homage reminds us of “the massive devastation and loss of life caused by wars”, and so it strengthens our respect for peace rather than a taste for fighting.

Main idea: the freedom and safety we take for granted were bought by ordinary Indians who gave their lives, and remembering them — publicly, gratefully and honestly — is a duty every citizen owes.

How the title fits: homage means respect shown publicly, and that is precisely what the two letters do.

• Soumya's letter is itself an act of homage — she names the heroes (Somnath Sharma, Mahendra Nath Mulla, Albert Ekka, Padmapani Acharya), quotes their citations in full, and describes the memorial built for them.
• Ananda's reply extends the homage — she calls a war memorial “an expression of deep gratitude”, remembers the flowers offered in Chandigarh, and quotes ‘Pushp ki Abhilasha’.
• The homage is brave-hearted, not boastful: the text weeps for the “massive devastation and loss of life caused by wars” even as it honours the courage.
• It ends in action, which is what real homage looks like — presentations in the school assembly, a collage, a wish to serve.

They had just heard, in his own citation, what one man did at Gangasagar.

The students were awestruck because Lance Naik Albert Ekka's courage was beyond anything they had imagined — badly wounded, he still crawled to a fortified building and climbed a wall to silence the gun that was killing his company. They were humbled because, standing there safe and comfortable, they realised how little they had ever been asked to give, and how much a man of their own country had given without hesitation. Awe looks up at someone; humility looks honestly at oneself. The citation produced both at once, which is why Soumya adds, “I aspire to be courageous like him when I join the Army!”