Speaking Archaeologically™

  Make mistakes but make mistakes intelligently. Already in awe of Prof. Bopearachchi from when he spoke to Speaking Archaeologically about the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, we were more than elated when he graciously agreed to give us two more lectures on the coinage of the past. Exploring Indo-Greek Coins in the first lecture , he showed that the reconstruction of the history of the Greeks in Bactria and India as well as their nomadic successors is entirely dependent upon coins and inscriptions. Only a few texts explore their history and these are scattered across Greek, Latin, Indian and Chinese texts.  What was most fascinating about the lecture was the approach Prof. Bopearachchi took towards studying coinage. I always assumed that studying coins would be limited to the coin itself- its shape, material, contents as that is how we had always studied it. This is important but my understanding was taken to the next level as Prof. Bopearachchi provided a context to this study. He highli

Mumbai. The city that never sleeps. Nurtured by this city for the past 19 years, I am thoroughly familiar with the warm wind and smell of the mud when it rains. It summons the whole city and is now etched in my memory. The city which I saw merely as a place of old colonial buildings, irresistible street foods (so delicious that getting diabetes is preferred) and a home to millions of people with dreams, I never thought that one fine Saturday evening, a lecture would forever change the way I view my city. Who would have thought that a girl who has always been in awe of history would be working on her research paper and would, in the span of six months, attend the lecture about her own city by a scholar she always looked up to as a human bible for archaeology? Was it a coincidence? Destiny? Or is this some kind of trick done by Avengers ? That we will never know. I still remember that while researching for my paper, I came across many articles and went through them carefully till my eyes

  Ding, ding, ding went the notification, Thump, thump, thump really went my heartstrings. In front of me lies my copy of The World Before Us by Tom Higham . It has been months since that wondrous evening back in March. The evening still comes as a brief dream now and then. Just like the sporadic Delhi rain that enlivens me in its ephemeral interactions. Such was the impact of that day that it yielded a beautiful keepsake as well: this book in front of me. Who knew that an interaction and a book can fundamentally change a person? To an extent that I, and everyone at the Research Wing, still cannot get over this sweet addiction of Human Evolution and genetics? To an extent that my evenings during my final university exams were spent discussing this book at great length rather than revising my class notes? It definitely did and I am so glad for it. For all those wondering why that musical interlude at the start, well, I can only just apologize for all the further encomiastic verses that

  Sitting in a classroom of sixty and studying a module on South Asian Prehistory, at an Indian university two centuries old, a range of thoughts loomed large in my head. I went through the course structure multiple times, and each time a new thought struck me. I realize the syllabus is undoubtedly old and not sufficiently revised. But there was something fundamentally missing in this. Maybe what I was looking for was a paradigm shift in the way the course was structured. This is how it all went: one had to necessarily start with a brief lip service to the palaeoclimates and physiography of the "Indian subcontinent". And then, very conveniently, you could shift towards describing lithic assemblages from different regions across the subcontinent (now having chucked out large parts of Pakistan and the whole of Sri Lanka, Nepal and Bangladesh). An added refrain would perhaps help justify this formalistic approach: "Sadly, you do not have any fossil evidence from South Asi

Peeking through the ruined gateways, a seemingly plain tomb fell into the notice of a teenager while making her occasional visit at the Kali Bari in Lodhi road. Interest piqued, a barrage of questions following later, her curiosity got sated when she finally stepped into its enclosure bright early in the morning. That fateful day, I got to know that this was the tomb of Mirza Najaf Khan, a Persian Noble, but in whose court I couldn’t seem to care less about it. This kind of behaviour was quite unusual on my account. I was so spellbound by the sheer simplicity of the tomb that all my thoughts had flown out of the proverbial window. Gaping like a fish in front of the tomb, I allowed myself to get drunk in its beauty. I explored the maximum tomb area and some parts of the garden enclosure which I could with my brother and cousin in the limited amount of time we had in our hand. Casting a few longing glances back at the tomb while exiting the enclosure, I made a promise to visit this tomb