We were practising our play for an upcoming cultural fest. The play was about comic misconceptions that arise due to misinterpreted religious symbolism, depicting devastating consequences for two communities. We thought of ourselves as students or actors or empathetic designers, quite unlike the characters we were portraying. We would enact the violence and pause with jovial banter and friendly exchange. We were not the characters.

After practice, one part of the troupe was resting in a neglected and shallow step-well. I only mention this to emphasise that we were relatively lower and it made for a vulnerable space to be in. We weren’t aware of the others. Suddenly, we heard a strange noise. It was hard to comprehend but it reeked of anger. When we looked up we saw members of our own troupe, the other half, running towards us in a violent fashion. For a moment I froze. But then I realised that the remaining members were starting to run in the opposite direction. I felt a rush of fear and joined them. We were running away from our own friends who by now were sloganeering and aggressively pursuing us. It was “us” versus “them”, and we did not even know why. 

By then I was sure that this was not a prank or part of the rehearsal. It was almost manic. I was terrified. I do not know how and when we stopped trying to escape. Somehow we’d turned into a mob against our apparent attackers. We were all chanting gibberish or things we had learnt from our play, we were yelling and trying to exert our dominance through noise and gestures. When things escalated our mentors intervened, it was indeed an exercise. A shocking exercise that left us trembling with disbelief, sadness and a sense of loss. We had lost ourselves on provocation. 

That day we cried, but we also learnt that inside each one of us is the possibility of good and bad. All of us who had dismissed extremism while practising the play took no time becoming polarised ourselves. We were supposed to make a choice in that moment of panic but did not make a good one. The incident, however, serves as a lifelong reminder and guides my actions even today. I cannot dare to imagine that I am any different or incapable of making gross mistakes. As much as it pains me to admit it, I acted cowardly that day without choosing to perceive with clarity. 

Also Read: Museums and Children: Nurturing an Indispensable Relationship for Building a Better Tomorrow

But let us distance ourselves from this incident. What if we experience this in a museum? What if we’re surrounded with this and were to feel trapped by our emotions? Or if we were mere spectators and wanted to warn the students about their facilitators’ intentions? What if this was being enacted in front of us and we could intervene and influence the choices made by the actors? What if there was a Museum Of Choices where all of this occurred?

A museum that does not necessarily warn but facilitates us in our journey of exploring opposing perspectives and the choices they result in. A museum that makes us aware that every choice we make, no matter how small has consequences which could be personal, social, cultural or environmental. One that makes us see the interconnectedness of things and the prominent role of our choices. A museum that allows us to look at our own lives and the world through the lens of choices made in the past, choices we need to make today and those in the future. 

The Museum Of Choices encourages reflection, dialogue, difficult conversations and hopefully bettering ourselves without clearly stating the obvious. Because in real life we do not usually have an external moral/ethical reminder when we’re pressed to make decisions. We have to think for ourselves. This museum thus makes place for us to actively engage with choices, to see ourselves as influencers and changemakers, no matter what the context is. In a world where climate disasters and political upheavals jolt us, the museum offers a certain consolation and sense of responsibility that is associated with the power of choice. It is still possible to change the narrative.

And how exciting it would be to curate their exhibitions. But that calls for another article. 

As I leave you with these thoughts to mull upon, I hope you enjoy the following excerpt from Maya Angelou’s poem, A Brave and Startling Truth:

“We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.”

~ENDS~

Poornima Sardana is a Fulbright-Nehru alumna who works as an independent museum consultant designing museum strategy for education, development and community engagement. She develops and facilitates programs that focus on building people’s relationship with museums and each other through dialogue, meaning and often playfulness. She is currently researching and experimenting on museums’ contribution to society’s well-being particularly emotional. For this purpose, she is working towards her consultancy Museums Of Hope and has co-founded the Museums Mazzedar Collective. She is also the host for the podcast Duniya Museums Kee.