This is an act of vandalism,” my Std IX teacher sighed, as she pointed out an indecipherable scrawl that included a heart-shaped icon (but of course). We were on our school picnic to Vasai fort—the much-discussed-about site in our history textbooks. Sadly, what we saw was a letdown, compared to the grand imagery that had been built up about this 17th century marvel. Luckily, and I use this word for a reason, there weren’t any heritage experts to lead the group; I suspect that they, in their frustration at the sight, would have probably made us feel worse about the state of affairs. That moment was also the first time when I understood the exact interpretation of the word ‘vandalism’. There were several examples as we moved across the fort. My teacher tried her best to recreate the aura of its past glory to a bunch of mostly uninterested teens. For me, it was a memorable visit to Bassein (earlier name for Vasai). On my bus ride back home I wondered what it must have been like for its residents to mingle with citizens from other parts of the world, since the sea base had trading links with some of the earliest and most prosperous civilisations. All credit to that teacher for taking the effort to focus on the fort’s history despite the unhappy turn of events. It remains etched in my mind to this day such that I can draw from that visit to contextualise this column.

Late last month, this newspaper ran detailed reports of a vandal who had set fire to one of the memorial stones inside the fort that falls under the control of the Archaeological Survey of India. He created a video with a catchy song in the background. I presume this ‘fiery’ video would have generated considerable interest online. A few days later, he was arrested. City historians have been vocal about this forgotten jewel, and in the past have raised alarms about the lack of adequate security leading to neglect caused by vandals as well as the need for urgent expertise-driven restoration to conserve this ‘protected’ monument.