My fetish for museums comes from my need to study history. While this is the most famous museum I have been to, many of the smaller ones I have visited in India have been rewarding in their own way.
From the Sulabh World Toilet museum in Delhi to a museum of sea shells in Jaipur, we have our own variety and flair. Many are in bad condition and in general deserted. Though I have seen some improvement over the past 10 years, the state of our heritage mirrors the state of our education, suffering from criminal disservice.
In any city, a number of tourist spots and food joints vie for your time and your money. For me museums have always been a safer bet. Worst case scenario, you get to spend a few quiet hours and learn something about the region that no travel blogger can tell you. Best case scenario you get to broaden and solidify your overall understanding of the world.
Understandably, even my closest friends don’t share this kink of mine. Museums compete with recreations and pleasure centers that are borderline prostitution. And a general dislike for reading and learning that is borderline dyslexia.
It is said that one must learn history in order to avoid repeating its mistakes. While that may be more for leaders and supreme leaders, commoners can at least learn some humility. From the vast stretches of time that have come and gone, from the same existential questions that bothered us even before there was Instagram, from the monarchs who may have been unique in their wealth but were utterly common in their mortality.
And if all of that doesn’t move you, museums are fairly Instagram worthy as well. My own archive is bursting at the folders but I am already on to the next city to be able to make any ‘content’ out of it. Perhaps in a month of relative detox, I shall put something together that is more nutritious than selfies and convince at least a few people to spend some time with themselves at a museum instead of another plate of Maggie at Mall road.
