Long long time ago there existed a few families. My ancestral family was considered wise, and all family members could read and write Sanskrit. But the other families were simple hard-working people who knew nothing but farming and their kin. Time passed, but the knowledge and the language remained in the family as it was passed down from one generation to another. We would teach the rulers a few words every now and then, but to those sun-burned lots we never disclosed a thing.
With unwavering favours from the ruling dynasties, we prospered, and apparently our status heightened. Naturally, social division progressed, and we secured our highest and sacred position, and we tom-tommed with the rulers. When this was going on, my ancestors, who by now had been deified, imagined about creating flying objects and lethal weapons. Everything was recorded even infused in stories, but none had access to it, except allowing the rulers. While my ancestors were busy with this inchoate imagination, what today could be considered, if translated to reality, advanced science, those sun-burned malnourished lots cleaned our excrement, sprinkled water to cleanse our paths, and they lived, like today, in our mercy. They could be lifted, and at the same time they could be banished. As simple as that.
Centuries later, we have progressed to the extent that we now wear Western clothes and talk important affairs and things in English. This doesn’t mean that we regard the descendants of the sun-burned-excrement-cleaners our equal. We loath them on the inside for what they have become, but we shake their defiled hands with great discomfort in public. In this land, which has been ours or had ruled with invaders, we still want people to know their places and what should be in place.
Today, when we pull out a thing or two from our textbooks to prove how intelligent we were, people mock us; ask when did the flying objects and the weapons exist and at what age were they made. It’s silly to argue when we know what is in the book, and they know nothing about what exist in our Sanskrit books. How could they know when they never had access to them? If they actually existed, then what happened to the knowledge? Or were they simple rudimentary ideas which never got materialized? The ancient Egypt knew the art of mummifying bodies, and today even a child can learn that and that knowledge is there, the descendants of sun-burned lots ask.
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