14 June 2011
"Patthar hi to hai", (Theyre only stones, anyway) were the words of the manager of the archeological site upon noticing my disappointment.
Thousands of years wrapped in a few rocks, each of which has stood witness to the most glorious events that time has created. The same rocks lie dumped in a heap today, as if disposed in a scrapyard. The archeological department, run by the government, stands at one miniscule room, crammed with files that look like they too had been created in the same era as the artifacts, and chairs that appear ready to give way anytime now. I step in, greet the manager, and tentatively choose to stand. Disgust and rage proceed, as he displays a pile of pillars kept outside the room as if showing me his greatest work yet. I only notice them as innovative waste disposal techniques. After being blessed with one of the most vibrant chronicles of time, and all we can do to revive it is store it in shockingly repulsive manner. Of course, once such structures resemble any one of our Gods in remote correlation, we build herculean amounts of faith in it and the artifact controls thousands of lives. Only in India.