Think Delhi's Jantar Mantar and chances are you won't think of Maharaja Jai Singh II. Well, regardless of whether you carry a jhola or backpack, you should. Built in 1724 by said Mr Singh, the site's a geometrical playground of astronomical ambition. Its hulking masonry instruments - giant sundials, arcane quadrants, looming gnomons - were not props for political placards but tools to chart celestial cycles. Here, time was measured not in parliamentary sessions but in shadows sliding across stone. The cosmos, not the cabinet, was the object of scrutiny.

What was once a theatre of science has become an amphitheatre of politics. The instruments that once aligned with stars now align with OB vans. Which is fine, as long as the former isn't totally engulfed by the latter for the visitor. In a city where history is perpetually repurposed, Jantar Mantar has been conscripted into a role its architect may not have imagined. Yet, we reckon the transformation is fitting. Both astronomy and protest are acts of defiance against ignorance. Jai Singh's observatory challenged the limits of human knowledge; today's protesters challenge perceived injustice. Which, then, actually makes Jantar Mantar less a monument misused than a monument reinterpreted. Its stones remind us that questioning - be it of stars or of states - is a most enduring noble tradition indeed.