Recently, at the Museum of First Nations in Whistler, someone remarked how a civilisation was left for a museum as it had fallen mercy to another powerful one. I easily submitted to this argument as I couldn’t deny these two popular theories:
– Change is Constant
– Black Swan theory
But something about the place or the experience had left me in tears. (It wasn’t PMS trust me).
I wondered if 100 years later, my own mother tongue would vanish, that some age old recipes which my Aaji would have cooked be a copy in a Musuem! These very things which I hold so dear to my heart. Perhaps, I should try researching more about new Marathi Sahitya or try my hand skillfully folding boiled rice flour (That is Modaks, you Mudbloods).
Now. Soon. Love fiercely and forgive easily.

That the Deccan Plateau would shake and swallow us in or we would be attacked by Martians and a whole population of Marathi speaking adults would be wiped out.
Humbling indeed, that I am mere speck in an unknown scheme of things. That we all are at mercy of cyclical forces and mortality was certain. Whether we made it to a Museum or not!