discovering forgotten cities in India and memorable archaeologists

CURRENTLY MANY MUSEUMS in the ‘Western World’ are pondering over the idea of returning some of their exhibits to the territories from where they were obtained. A controversial example of this quandary are the fragments from Athen’s Parthenon, which are known as the Elgin Marbles.

From 1899 to 1905, Lord Curzon was the Viceroy of British India. In her book “Finding Forgotten Cities”, Nayanjot Lahiri describes how Curzon was concerned about preserving and conserving India’s many archaeological and historical sites, and promoting the work of archaeologists in what was to become the Archaeological Survey of India (‘ASI’). Concerning artefacts removed from India, it was Curzon who arranged for some ancient artefacts to be returned from the British Museum to where they came from in India. The most important thing that Curzon did in relation to Indian archaeology was to appoint the archaeologist John Marshall (1876-1958) to supervise and plan archaeological activities within the Indian subcontinent. It is Marshall and his highly trained colleagues including many Indians such as Rakhaldas Banerji, DR Bhandarka, KN Dikshit, and DR Sahni, who are important protagonists in Lahiri’s story about how the extensive remains of Harrappan (or Indus Valley) civilisation came to be discovered. The book also includes much information about the Italian archaeologist Luigi Pio Tessitori (born 1887 in Udine, Italy, died 1919 in Bikaner, Rajasthan), whose discoveries eventually contributed much to the unravelling of the mystery of Harrapan civilisation.

Apart from the above-mentioned, Lahiri describes the lives and archaeological work of a whole host of other people working in India. She describes how the earlier archaeologists were fixated on finding remains of places mentioned in early texts including the Vedas, classical author’s histories of Alexander the Great’s incursions into the Indian subcontinent, Buddhist and Jain sources, and accounts by early Chinese travellers in India. When the remains of what is now recognised as the very old Harrapan civilisation (as early as about 3000 BC) began to be discovered, it was gradually realised that these were not compatible with the stories written in the ancient texts. Although at first nobody knew the age of these findings, the fact that they were discovered deeper beneath the ground than the artefacts that could be dated, Marshall and his colleagues believed that they had stumbled on remains from a time far earlier than had been hitherto discovered by archaeologists in India. Amongst these and at various different locations, seals inscribed with pictograms or symbols began to be discovered. Later, these seals became important in dating the Harrapan civilisation.

Lahiri’s well-documented, scholarly account reads like a thriller. Not only does she relate the story of the discovery of the Harrapan civilisation and the archaeologists who found it, but also she tells of the difficulties that Marshall encountered ensuring that the ASI was adequately funded. And she tells of the remarkable way that the ageing of the civilisation became possible after Marshall had published his findings with many illustrations in the widely read, non-scholarly Illustrated London News in 1924.

I never believed that I would read a book about archaeology and find it un-put-downable, but Lahiri’s fascinating book was just that. It is a book that should interest both archaeologists and lay readers. I began reading it soon after revisiting one of India’s major Harrapan sites, that at Dholavira in Kachchh (Gujarat), and I am pleased that I did.

One, two, or three heads?

THE HARRAPAN (or Indus Valley) civilisation existed from about 3300 to 1300 BC. Its existence overlapped with that of the ancient civilisation in Mesopotamia (existed approximately 3100 to 539 BC – the fall of Babylon).

Both civilisations used clay to seal closed vessels containing goods. They made identification marks on the clay before it set solid. To do this, they used seals that embossed identifying patterns or marks on the clay. The marks varied greatly.

It is on the ancient Mesopotamian seals that some of the earliest known examples of double-headed birds can be found. Some other Mesopotamian seals depict double-headed horses and other creatures. Whether or not the double-headed eagle of Abania is a descendant of these middle eastern double-headed creatures on sealing rings, I cannot say.

Recently, I visited the Harrapan archaeological site at Dholavira in a remote part of Gujarat close to India’s border with Pakistan. The small museum attached to the site contains several examples of the carved seals used to emboss the wet clay employed to seal close vessels. Knowing about the double-headed birds on the Mesopotamian seals, I was on the look out for similar on the seals excavated at Dholavira.

I was very excited to discove one seal that at first sight looked like a double-headed creature. It was not a bird but a four legged animal. Two heads, each on their own striped necks, faced in opposite directions just as seen in the Albanian double-headed eagle.

I showed the picture of this seal to a friend, who pointed out a third striped neck with its own head. The neck was curved downwards. If the other two heads had not been present, the creature would have resembled, say, a horse or cattle grazing.

Did the craftsman who carved this three headed animal intend it to be three headed or did he/she want to depict movement, just as can be seen on the multi limbed depictions of Hindu gods and goddesses? I cannot say, but it raises the question whether the symbolic Albanian eagle has two heads or one that moves from side to side vigilantly surveying its territory.

An afterthought.
Did Cerberus, the three or more headed dog guarding the underworld, have so many heads, or do the many heads seen in depictions of him really represent one head in frenetic motion?