“Sudarshan Ji, take a look at these pictures,” said Mrs. Sudha Nagvekar to her husband. “Which of these girls would be best for our Jay?”

“They’re all the same,” he said, after adjusting his pince nez in place and giving a quick glance to the pictures. “Pictures won’t suffice; I’ve already told you the kind of family we want, Sudha Ji.”

Mr. Sudarshan Nagvekar was a ninety five year old patriarch of the Nagvekar family that currently resided in Verla, North Goa. Having lived a life of honour and valour, from the days of letters to the days of Twitter, he now found solace in perusing old archives of the National movement and writing some incidents of his own life in the local magazine.

Presently, though, the one thing that occupied most of his time and his family’s mind was to arrange the marriage of his grandson, Jay. Most of his days were spent on scrutinizing the proposals that came his way very closely, but not one had been able to please him.

“The girl should be a Brahmin- a Goan Brahmin from a very good family, preferably one from the line of freedom fighters and the army,” he would often say this, much to the dismay of his family who knew how much it displeased Jay. But, they tried everything; they put up advertisements in newspapers and contacted every acquaintance they had and even received a few positive responses.

Every day, Jay’s mother Nita and his grandmother came to him with renewed hope to discuss about the ‘qualified and eligible’ proposals, and every day they returned empty handed and disappointed.

Jay walked into the sitting room and scowled when he saw the daily routine repeating afresh- his mother and grandmother were still trying to figure out what was wrong with the girls they had shortlisted- each one was more beautiful than the previous and all of them earnt well too. His father was going through the family details of each of the proposals, while his grandfather was still sitting in his armchair and reading a different magazine.

“When is all this going to stop? I have already told you I do not intend to get married!” Jay said, curtly. “Just stop it mother! I don’t want you to look for a girl. I am 25. Who gets married at 25?”

“I got married at 25,” said Grandfather, without looking up.

“Your times were different. Now, nobody does. And why in the world are you looking for such a traditional household for me? Army and freedom and what not! If I ever get married, it’ll be to a girl of my choice, preferably from the engineering or IT field¬—”

“You would marry the girl we choose for you,” Grandfather said, rising from his seat. “That’s the way it has been in the family- that’s how I got married, that’s how your father got married and that is how you shall get married too. Am I clearly understood?”

“With all due respect, no. I fail to comprehend why you all cling to values and traditions that have now become archaic. Caste distinctions, preferential choices- it’s your generation that’s still propagating these things. The world has moved ahead Grandfather, it’s not 1950s anymore. And you have to move too. Am I clearly understood?”

Jay’s father Akhil sighed at the exchange between his father and his son. It had become an everyday affair since Jay turned 25. His position on the topic was particularly based on quicksand, for he knew that while his father wasn’t wrong about the values that had persisted in the family for ages, he also understood his son and the schools of thought prevalent in the current generation.

In a deadlock, all he could do was hear as the exchange of words soon turned up its intensity and both were voicing their perspectives in raised voices, each not willing to submit before the other.

As the debate escalated, Grandfather stormed out of the room in anger. Just then, everybody suddenly became conscious of a strange noise in the room. While they turned their heads to place the source of the noise, it was Akhil who first saw a small black void near the ceiling that grew with every passing second. By the time the others saw it, the void had turned large enough to become some sort of a portal.

If that couldn’t extract a collective gasp of trepidation, then what happened next, certainly left everyone aghast. From the portal, emerged a young man. Dressed in white ‘space suit-like’ clothes and a shielded head gear, he stood before the Nagvekar family at some distance. Before the family had any time to react, he removed his head gear and grinned.

He looked not a day more than twenty and had short hair and very sharp features.

But, his eyes and angular jawline uncannily resembled to the males of the Nagvekar family.

“Who…Who are you?” uttered a shocked Nita to the bloke.

“Oh, moi? My name is Shaun,” he said and hastily recovered from his suit a small pocket diary which he studied for a while. After that, he took a few steps towards her and said, “You must be Nita Nagve-ve—”, struggling to pronounce further.

Akhil immediately stood before him and Jay picked up the rolling pin from the kitchen and came to his mother’s defence

“Oh, don’t hit moi,” Shaun lifted up his arms. “I will explain. It’s just that I am kind of overwhelmed after travelling a hundred years into the past. It took much longer than I expected, probably some error in approximation I made…” he grimaced and sighed. “The negative energy density I had worked on to construct this Alcubierre drive has something messed up or else I would’ve—”

“Speak English!” screamed Jay, gesticulating frantically. “Who are you? And how did you come here?”

“I said I am Shaun and you must be…” he glanced into his diary again. “Jay Nagve-ve,” he stammered and with some epiphanic realisation, read the name again and glanced at Jay.

“Great grandfather!” he uttered with ecstasy. “You’re my great grandfather!”

“What?” Jay asked incredulously. “I don’t even know who or what you are. How in the world did I become your great grandfather?”

“Of course you wouldn’t know me now, would you? I have come from the year 2121, time travelled a hundred years into the past to meet my great grandfather’s family and fulfil his last wish,” he said, solemnly and stared blankly at Jay.

“Time travel into the past is impossible!”

“Yes, it is now. But in future, it is possible. Harnessing dark energy will become possible using Dyson rings which would make possible construction of Alcubierre drives- just like the one I came from,” he said pointing towards the portal. “By the way, why is this old man wearing a mask?”

He pointed to Grandfather who walked into the room, tucking his dhoti, after coming back from the local magazine store. It was his favourite haunt to calm his irked nerves after arguing with his grandson.

For a second or two, he couldn’t understand anything.

“Who’s this clown in weird clothes?” he asked, stepping ahead. “What is he doing in my house? And who made this hole in the ceiling?”

He fumed in anger as he pointed towards the portal ‘hole’ with his wooden stick.

“Mr. Sud-aa-rshan Nagve-ve—” Shaun began reading from his diary again.

“Sudarshan Nagvekar,” Grandfather said with authority as if his name were some badge of honour. “Pronounce it properly; not in this clumsy, silly manner.”

“Sorry,” said Shaun, sheepishly. “According to this diary, you are my great, great, great grandfather. Wow! Pleasure to meet you Sudarshan!”

Shaun extended his hand for Grandfather to shake, but all he received was a baffled, indignant look from Grandfather and his family.

“How impertinent is this! You call me by my name! Nobody calls me by my name- Nobody! And, have your parents not taught you any manners? You touch elders’ feet when you meet them, not offer your dirty hands to shake, especially in the time of the coronavirus pandemic!. Have you even sanitized them? Hey Parmeshwara! What kind of friends do you even bring home, Jay?”

Jay went on to explain how he wasn’t a friend of this man. He narrated to him whatever he had heard and perceived about Shaun.

“A time traveller?” scoffed Grandfather. “Are you sure he’s not a swindler?”

“I am not, GGG Grandfather. I am a part of this family’s blood line. I am your grandson’s great grandson and I was sent here to fulfil his last wish. I was close to him and he often told me about his life while growing up and he had asked me to visit his ancestral home at least once if I ever had the technology to do so. I know all this sounds far-fetched given that people from this generation don’t know much about the scientific developments they would make in a decade or so, but it’s true.”

Shaun walked up to the couch and sat down. Everyone else sat down too, partly from amusement and partly from astonished inquisitiveness.

“You still haven’t answered,” Shaun said after a long silence. “The mask- why do you wear them?”

“Coronavirus pandemic,” said Akhil. “Transmits through touch. We’re exercising self-protection, just like everyone else at this minute worldwide.”

“Wow! Such things don’t happen in the future, you know. We haven’t faced any pandemic, epidemic or any severe medical emergencies for over fifty years now, at least that’s what dad says. Medical and scientific advancements of the future are way ahead than can be fathomed by your generation,” he said, smirking conceitfully.

Jay smiled, inwardly happy with the news, but Grandfather began in his deep, husky baritone, “Enough of patronizing all of that. Tell me about yourself. What do you do? Is this house being maintained in the future as good as it is being done today? Are your parents taking care of the Nagvekar Niwaas?”

“The what?”

“This house!” Grandfather fumed. “The Nagvekar Niwaas.”

“Oh, I don’t know and I don’t really remember seeing this house before. I don’t live with my parents anymore. I am an adult now, independent- free to go. So, I live on my own and will be moving to the USA pretty soon.”

“The USA! Ah, the brain drain continues! Why do you want to move to the USA?” Grandfather asked.

“Well, Mr. GGG Grandfather, that’s because there’s barely any opportunity in India. I mean there are so many people and so little resources. In addition, India is always in a perpetual war with the Arab world over oil and fuel resources because apparently your generation barely left anything for us. There’s so much gap between the rich and the poor in India in the future. Even though the big cities have moved towards electric and piezoelectric materials, around three fourths of the country still depends on fuel, which is scarce.

All this isn’t in the USA, they are culturally, economically and resourcefully rich.”

“Culturally rich?” Akhil smirked. “Did you just say that? A country found four hundred, okay, five hundred years ago for you, is more culturally rich than a country of thousands of years’ worth heritage?”

“Mr. GG Grandfather, I don’t know much about the culture or heritage of India,” Shaun said plainly, unabashed. “We learn to respect the culture of the USA alone.

It’s very developed. India has also seen massive scientific growth. They recently launched a satellite towards the Andromeda Galaxy, but there’s great disparity.”

“Caste disparity?”

“What is caste?” Shaun asked.

A silence descended in the room.

“The rank of a person decided by birth is called caste,” Jay explained.

“Oh, no. We don’t have things like that in the future. No birth based discrimination. Though, there’s still some 150 year old struggle between races in the USA. My dad says that it has always been like that. I don’t get it though. But, I don’t remember seeing or hearing anything about birth based discrimination during my time in India. The society is very acceptive and accommodative,” he paused.

Grandfather looked pensive, but didn’t say a word.

“The only problem persists due to over population. It’s the highest populated country in the world and resources are very scarce, so the rich have it all and the poor have none. There’s a lot of misunderstandings between the rich and the poor in India.”

“And what does the government do to resolve that?” Grandmother asked.

“Government,” Shaun scoffed. “Nobody really trusts the government anywhere in the world. My grandfather and your son great grandfather, Jay, used to say that democracy was the thing prevalent in your generation, but it’s seen a gradual decline for no one really trusts anyone. You see, that’s the reason I wasn’t surprised when you all didn’t want to believe who I am, because I am used to having to explain myself and prove my integrity before people. Everybody is. Infact, lie detector tests are pretty common during any interview or contract agreements in the future.”

“You mean people trust science more than human morality? That’s the kind of society we’re fostering?” Akhil asked.

“People believe in facts that can’t be denied because someone chooses to. That’s been the principle for everyone, including moi.”

“Why do you say ‘moi’? What sort of a language is that?” Jay asked.

“Why? Is that not the way to say it?” Shaun asked incredulously. “I mean this is the kind of language we use. It’s called Internaz- the international language approved by the World Forum. I can’t use it with you or you won’t really understand what I say, plus my father still teaches me old English, so I can understand what you say and vice versa.”

“The World Forum? What is that? Some extension of the United Nations?” Nita asked.

“No, not an extension. It was born out of it. Some forty years ago and sixty years hence for you people, people will realise that the UNO has lost its purpose for every country will acquire nuclear weapons and the issue at hand would be not to establish peace but mitigate the dangers in times of war, which actually happens very often. USA fights for power, UK for piezoelectric materials, India fights for fuel and has disputes over water channels and Iran and Iraq fight over having to follow the international religion of Zenism. So, the World Forum was created where every country is regarded equal but some countries are of course, more equal than the others, and every country reports to the World Forum on a regular basis.”

“International religion?” Grandfather finally spoke with horror laced in every word he spoke. “What about your religion, or your father’s or your great grandfather’s? What about Hinduism?”

Shaun looked confused.

“I’m sorry GGG Grandfather, but Zenism is the way of life we practice. There’s no real religion as such because the World Forum thought that tensions based on religion were the major reasons behind wars, so they introduced the concept of pacified way of living, of peace, yoga and spiritualism. It teaches people the importance of institutions of marriage, family and commitment- something that the future generations would lack a lot and something that I personally ‘detestate’ a lot. My father always taught me these things though.”

“But what about Maa Bharati? What about your Gods and dharma and anushasan? What about the temples? Do your parents never take you to pray to temples? Who do you pray? How did the people of this great country even come to accept such things?”

“No idea.” Shaun shrugged. “I do pray, but not in temples but the modified Zenist centres where people meditate in silence. And as far as accepting is concerned, people in the near future would go completely international. Increased globalisation made it possible for people to embrace other cultures worldwide and they expressed the desire to go international and be accommodative to immigrants. They told it to the government and though the government resisted at first, they soon realised that the public pressure was too much and the establishment of the World Forum around that time enforced it quickly. But I guess these demands to open borders and accepting different cultures by finding flaws in one’s own culture kind of began with your generation, great grandfather Jay.

“But there are still some countries in the Arab World and some places in India that continue to follow old practices. I guess they’ll never learn…”

“No,” said Grandfather strongly. “They are the only ones who learnt and saved what little there is to save in the future about the great history of this great country. I am ashamed to learn that we’ll give rise to a world which will forget who we really are or were. Don’t people read or visit places of national importance; don’t they talk about the freedom struggle; about the age old practices of their religion?”

“The history books only talk about the recorded history of the USA and UK and some other countries. Indian history books don’t really have much content about any of what you mentioned GGG Grandfather. Infact, all they talk about is the recent wars over resources and water and how India has played an active role in being a major human resource exporter to the USA and facilitated global development.”

“And that’s the identity of our country? An HR exporter? That’s it?” Akhil muttered in disbelief.

“Isn’t that what the present generation wanted? To be international and be a part of the global community? Well, I guess you should be happy to know it’ll happen in only a hundred years.

This country would be equal to the others, not less! I know, like right now, India is a bit less of a global power, but in a hundred years it’ll be at par, only less than the USA!”

“But at what cost? Zenism, World Forum and Internaz and what not! Indians have a unique identity and in just a 100 years, people chose to do away with the glorious identity of thousands of years! This makes me think now, your name- Shaun- is not an Indian name. And, why don’t you use your surname- Nagvekar? Forget using it, you can’t even pronounce it properly!”

“People don’t use family names anymore in the future, the Forum directs that it may trigger rank distinctions which your generation calls caste. So, we don’t use it.”

Grandfather was stunned. All his life had been one gargantuan struggle to preserve the name that his progeny of the fifth generation had so conveniently discarded.

“And what about the values of bravery, sacrifice and honour from the freedom struggle? Are they not relevant in the future?” Nita asked.

“GG Grandmother, notions like that are incompatible with the scenario of the future. In a society that doesn’t trust anyone, you think ‘fanky’ stuff like that would hold water? Besides, we have come to understand that the freedom struggle and all relevant movements were just a wonderful piece of propaganda to morally corrupt people and peddle hatred by pitting one community against the other. All of the national movement is one big government sponsored sham—”

“ENOUGH!” Grandfather screamed. The word was uttered with so much sentiment, that it stirred everyone up. He was shaking vehemently with the grief, pain and indignation characteristic of a man who realises that his whole life has been one great waste.

All the labours of the past, the glory and honour of his days, the valiant tales of sacrifice he’d grown up hearing and believing, all of that to be rendered futile, insulted and ignored in just a century worth time! The name, to protect which his forefathers had laid their lives without batting an eye, that name, to be dropped! Like a redundant word from a sentence!

The more he reflected on the words of his time travelling progeny, the more they wounded his pride and mortified his principles.

“Say no more, you ignorant young man!” he said, looking straight into Shaun’s eyes. “A sham! You call the national struggle a sham! Oh! I not only loathe your generation for being blissful in ignorance, but also thank my Parmeshwara that I won’t be alive to see such days of doom befall!”

“But GGG Grandfather—”

“Don’t utter another word!” Grandfather fumed. “You’ve said enough. I comprehend your ideas completely, and it is now indispensable for me to do the same.”

Saying this, he got up, tucked his dhoti and pulled up the sleeves of his long white kurta.

“Look at them,” he said to Shaun.

On the frail arms of Grandfather, not much of the strength of his youth remained. The once strong and muscular arms looked insignificantly small and weak, but on them were etched several lines and marks that suggested of some deep tormention.

“Whip marks,” he said, his eyes pricking with unshed tears. “From over seventy five years ago. The pain is gone, but the scars still remain. Do you think this a sham too?”

Grandmother looked down and sobbed softly while Shaun gazed at Grandfather’s hands in horror.

“For you, maybe, our family name, Nagvekar, is just an amalgamation of letters of no importance, but to us, it is a symbol of pride, sacrifice and selfless belief in Swaraj. You drop it because you feel it has no significance, but to me, this name is everything and I don’t say it because of conceit or ego, I say it because if my forefathers hadn’t fought for this name, I wouldn’t be here speaking to you. Infact, nobody- not my son, your great grandfather, not even you would be here. I am what I am, a Hindu, because of their selfless and valiant actions. Our entire existence hinges on this one name, the protection of which is both, our duty and dharma.

“I feel a pressing need to share the history of this country, this house, this name that you are oblivious of. Around four hundred years ago from now, Portuguese explorers landed on this land of Goa. They carried out their trade and exported large amounts of raw materials like muslin and spices from here. All this was fine, until it soon became known that in the name of trading and exploring, they had sent in several missionaries here.”

“Mission— what?”

“Ah! You wouldn’t know, would you? Because you come from a world of commonality; you’ve all been given the same masks in the name of internationalism and your faces have grown to fit them. Missionaries were people who carried out religious conversions. Early on, the demography of Goa was marked by Hindu majority, which is the community we come from. But, now, Goa is seen as the state that houses maximum number of Christians, another community that follows the religion of Christianity, the most practiced region in the current world. This change in demography happened gradually, over decades. The early missionary conversions were slow and not that profound, mainly because the Portuguese king had good trade relations with the local kings of Goa. But, after his death, his wife, under the influence of the king’s fanatical Catholic minister, ordered the court of inquisition to be established in Goa to punish those people who refused to convert or relapsed back to their religion even after conversion.”

Everyone in the room listened to Grandfather in rapt attention. Though he often shared anecdotes of his life with them and the rest of the town through the magazines, they had never heard him speak with such sentiment before.

“Meanwhile, here, in the primarily Hindu village of Verla, my great grandfather, Panajoba Durgesh Nagvekar was the village head. He was a farmer by profession. When the inquisition picked momentum in most of Goa and shifted to this village, the conversions ramped up. Most of those who refused to convert were given incentives that enticed them to convert. During the time the inquisition and conversions started expanding, a law was enacted which said that if the patriarch of a non-Christian family died, his property and all his wealth would be immediately awarded to the church. Also, a large number of Hindu workers were made to labour in the sprawling cottages of the Portuguese. The missionaries often guaranteed that upon conversion, these rules wouldn’t apply to them and that they could lead a life of freedom, get free food and pay no taxes.

However, this came at the cost of having to part with one’s religion and associated practices. Several families agreed to it, but my Panajoba didn’t. He continued wearing the sacred thread of our dharma, planted and worshipped the tulsi plant,” he said, pointing to a similar plant present in the backyard of the Nagvekar Niwaas.

“And he refused to put salt in his rice, which were clear acts of defiance against the conversion forces. He mobilised support from the village committee who agreed to never give up their religion and protect their name and identity.

However, soon Panajoba was brought to the inquisition, where he openly refused to convert. He was denied the permission to work and his farm was confiscated. But he never submitted. Instead of going to the church for Sunday masses, he organised recital of verses from the Ramayana and Sundara Kand. When nothing worked out for the missionaries, he was tried and pronounced guilty for blasphemy, instigating people against conversion and open defiance and ordained to the worst treatment a mortal can undergo… He was burnt alive.”

Grandfather’s voice cracked on the last word. Gasps of disbelief and horror rose from every person in the room. Shaun gazed at him with absolute shock and incredulity. Never in his life had he imagined that his lineage had such iron-heart antecedents.

Jay maintained a stunned silence while Akhil looked down and sat with crossed arms in deep reflection.

“The whole village saw him burn, his wife, his son- my Ajoba-but within them arose the sentiment of not just devotion to one’s religion, but an immense sense of belonging towards their motherland. People say religion divides people, but it was religion itself that made people realise the nature of tormention to which they’d expose themselves in case they submitted before the oppressive laws. It was religion that made people see that the foreigners who’d arrived as naïve tradesmen had established themselves as masters of their fate who oppressed their beliefs and practices at their caprice and would continue to do so if they didn’t revolt. And it made them see that the issue at hand was not of religion alone, but of national sovereignty and cultural identity. Thus, when the villages formed a nexus and started remonstrating against the forced conversions, the Portuguese forces started to openly obliterate the regions of uprising. The nearby village of Nagoa remained one of the most important sites of the uprising in North Goa.

However, when the situations became worse, the villagers realised they didn’t have ammunition or wherewithal to stop the brute Portuguese forces,” he paused, giving Shaun a solemn look. Clearing his throat, he continued, “They destroyed everything- they razed temples and destroyed the murtis. That’s when my grandfather, my Ajoba, was advised by the village members to take away the deities of Durga and Vishnu and establish them in a safer place. He escaped to Karnataka, while the people of Verla kept fighting till their last breath to remain Hindu.

“When my Ajoba came into Karnataka, he, along with his wife and son, devoted their lives to looking after the murtis by establishing a temple and offering prayers there. Around the mid-18th century, when the Portuguese forces started receding due to the rise of the British empire, my father decided to shift back to our village with my aai, taking back the murtis and establishing them in the temple a few yards away from this house. That is the very temple you whine about having to pray at every morning, Jay.”

Jay was mortified of his own ignorance. There had been times when he had loathed his grandfather’s conservative views to the extent that he’d almost lost respect for him, but hearing what he did of the strength and honour of his own family, left him in total awe.

“I was born right here, in this house. When my father came into this village, he was greeted by the ruins of this house, it was rebuilt and named ‘Nagvekar Niwaas’ by him. He participated actively in several movements to resist British occupation and establish Swaraj; he was deeply inspired by Maharaja Shivaji,” he said and closed his eyes as though in deep thought. Then he said, “When I was a small child, he used to ask me, every Dussehra, to promise him that I’d look after this house after he’s gone and ask my kids to look after it when I am gone and that we’d all always put our land, our religion and our country before anything else,” he said, with a nostalgic look on his senile face.

“This house, it’s not just a structure of bricks and walls, it’s a legacy that’s been running down our bloodline. The name that stands outside, is a name my fathers laid their lives for.

“When the British came into power, they followed the same tactics that the Portuguese had done but with a modified policy of divide and rule. They used religion as a key factor to assist this guiding tenet of theirs.

You see, time traveller, I have just shown how religion can, both, inspire nationalism and divide communities based on how it is used.

They also carried out conversions, but this time, not with much success because there were people, several generations, who had seen people dying to retain their identity,” he paused and then walked to the window with Shaun. Putting his arm on his young shoulders, he pointed to a house in the distance. “The Vaidyas- they’ve been living here for several decades. I still remember, when I was about your age, the male head of the family had died due to kala azar, leaving behind his wife and a seven year old son. The imperial forces ordered the woman to convert, but when she refused, they took her son- stole him like thieves in the middle of the night- and took him to the church. They chopped off his shikha- the tuft of hair that the Brahmins keep- and snapped his sacred thread. By the time the mother realised where her son was, he had already been baptized. She knew that the community would never accept the child after all this. Tormented by the mere thought of losing her only son, she had to convert too.”

Grandfather stopped speaking and gazed ahead.

Meanwhile, Akhil looked at his son Jay, who still hung his head in shame, and said, “I was the only surviving child of my father, Jay. My elder brothers had died in infancy and I prayed to God that some miracle should happen that’d prevent parents from losing their kids so young. That miracle is what you call innovation now and the world has seen a burst of it in every dimension of life now- medical science, defence, politics- everywhere. Inspite of losing two children, Baba still sent me in the army. Serving our motherland is the primary goal of the ‘Nagvekars’.

I understand how your generation thinks, Jay. I know you blame yourself for being the reason of the oblivion that the future generations would live in, but that doesn’t really change things. You need to embrace your identity and take pride in who you are and where you come from. I understand and appreciate scientific development more than your grandfather does, but it never meant that I disregarded my roots and language. I still speak Marathi and Konkani; your grandfather still writes in the magazine in Marathi.”

You know, when the woman he’s talking about converted, she was boycotted by the entire village for having a ‘Christian’ son. But, Baba stood for her- gave her food, money and taught her son about Swaraj. He was whipped and beaten for trying to help them by the imperial forces, but he wouldn’t give in. Today, even her grandkids thank Baba for ensuring that they could go back to being Hindus again,” Akhil paused and looked at his father in the distance and felt immense pride. “He took part in several national movements, Baba did, mainly involving resistance to forceful religious conversions of Hindus in Goa. He wasn’t a Nehru or a Gandhi, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love his country. Not everyone who fought for Swaraj wore khaki, held meetings and gave speeches; those who did surely, did great but there were numerous such battles fought that added up to give you and me and all of the future generations the freedom that we enjoy.”

Grandfather looked at Shaun, who was sobbing profusely. Putting his hand on his head, he smiled feebly.

“Son, I know not how this decay and deterioration of cultures, values and traditions would happen. But if it is bound to happen, it would be a sad day. I am an old man- I don’t know much about evolving sciences and technology- but I grew up following traditions and would like to die knowing that my posterity would carry it forward. Everyone wants the best, everyone wants to be international, but a country’s true estimation lies in its ability to not only progress scientifically, but also ensure that its rich culture and heritage is protected, rejoiced and celebrated. Scientific innovation and cultural preservation aren’t mutually exclusive; they go hand in hand. Even if you didn’t know about it, I am glad that your great grandfather and my grandson Jay asked you to come here and reckon it for yourself that independence wasn’t served to us on a silver plate, we fought for it, spilled our blood and it was conceded with great reluctance. Though India got independent in 1947, Goa still had to wait for 14 long years; fighting to preserve its demography, culture, practices and religion. Even if people like us didn’t contribute by holding guns and chanting slogans like the greats of Subhash Chandra Bose, Chandrashekhar Azad and Bhagat Singh, I guess each one of us fought our own battles to become what we are today. It’s all these small things that add up, don’t they?”

Shaun nodded, wiping off his tears. “GGG Grandfather, I had no idea about all this and can now, fully comprehend why you were so upset with me. This land is indeed a blessing and even if I can’t undo the misgivings we’re to face, I do assure you that I am going to remember this and celebrate my ancestry. I will ensure that people in the future hear out what we were before and my posterity bears the sacred name of Nagvekar, I promise.”

The entire family sat down and decided to have a light hearted chit chat. Just then, Jay recollected that a cricket match was going to premiere on television.

“Okay,” said Shaun. “I guess the one thing that will probably not change even after a thousand years would be the love for cricket among Indians! Everyone loves it in the future too!”

Everyone laughed and watched the match. Jay sat down next to Shaun and apologised for being curt to him earlier.

“It’s okay great grandpa, you and great grandma are going to be the coolest grandparents the world has ever seen. Rest assured.”

“You’ve come from the future, no? So, you would surely know who am I going to get married to?” whispered Jay.

“Yes,” said Shaun cheekily. “I do. And I also know who’s going to win this match.”

Jay waited for the response after Shaun paused dramatically.

“But, I can’t tell you either,” said Shaun as he rushed to rise and stood under the portal he had come from. “Because, if I don’t go now, the portal will close. But, don’t worry great grandpa, your grandfather, Sudarshan Nagvekar, will prove to be very reasonable in that case.

“Alright then. See you in the future!”