Negotiating Cultural Identity: Landscapes in Early Medieval South Asian History [2 ed.] 0367222728, 9780367222727

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title
Copyright
Contents
List of figures
List of maps
Notes on contributors
Preface
Introduction
PART 1
The archaeology of space
1 India cartographica: some Roman sightings
2 Cartography and cultural encounter: conceptualisation of  al-Hind by Arabic and Persian writers from the 9th to 11th centuries CE
3 Self, other and the use and appropriation of late Roman coins in peninsular India (4th–7th centuries CE)
PART 2
Defining cultural landscapes
4 Sacred spaces of the middle Ganga valley: a case study of Varanasi
5 Transforming the landscape: questions of medieval reuse and worship at ancient Jain rock-cut sites near Madurai
6 Of saffron, snow and spirituality: glimpses of cultural geography in the Rājataraṅgiṇī
7 Space for change: evaluating the ‘paucity of metallic currency’ in medieval India
8 Colonial imagination and identity attribution: numismatic cues for defining space
9 Shrines as ‘monuments’: issues of classification, custody and conflict in Orissa
10 Continuity and change in the sacred landscape of the Buddhist site of Udayagiri, Odisha
Index

Citation preview

Negotiating Cultural Identity

This volume breaks new ground by conceptualizing physical landscapes as living cultural bodies. It redefines dynamic cultural landscapes as catalysts in which the natural world and human practice are inextricably linked and are constantly interacting. Drawing on research by eminent archaeologists, numismatists and historians, the essays in this volume • • •

Provide insights into the ways people in the past, and in the present, imbue places with meanings; Examine the social and cultural construction of space in the early medieval period in South Asia; Trace complex patterns of historical development of a temple or a town, to understand ways in which such spaces often become a means of constructing the collective past and social traditions.

With a new chapter on continuity and change in the sacred landscape of the Buddhist site at Udayagiri, the second edition of Negotiating Cultural Identity will be of immense interest to scholars and researchers of archaeology, social history, cultural studies, art history and anthropology. Himanshu Prabha Ray is Hony. Professor, Distant Worlds Programme, Ludwig Maximilian University, Munich, Germany. She is former Chairperson, National Monuments Authority, Ministry of Culture, New Delhi, India, and former Professor, Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, India. Her research interests include Maritime History and Archaeology of the Indian Ocean, the History of Archaeology in South and Southeast Asia and the Archaeology of Religion in Asia. Her recent books include Archaeology and Buddhism in South Asia; edited volume, Decolonising Heritage in South Asia: The Global, the National and the Transnational; Buddhism and Gandhara: An Archaeology of Museum Collections; Susan Verma Mishra and Himanshu Prabha Ray, The Archaeology of Sacred Spaces: The Temple in Western India, 2nd century BCE–8th century CE; The Return of the Buddha: Ancient Symbols for a New Nation; and The Archaeology of Seafaring in Ancient South Asia.

Archaeology and Religion in South Asia

Series Editor: Himanshu Prabha Ray, Ludwig Maximilian University, Munich, Germany; former Chairperson of the National Monuments Authority, Ministry of Culture, Government of India, and former Professor, Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India Editorial Board: Gavin Flood, Academic Director, Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies; Jessica Frazier, Academic Administrator, Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies; Julia Shaw, Institute of Archaeology, University College, London; Shailendra Bhandare, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford; Devangana Desai, Asiatic Society, Mumbai; and Vidula Jayaswal, Jnana Pravaha, Varanasi, former Professor, Banaras Hindu University This series, in association with the Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies, reflects on the complex relationship between religion and society through new perspectives and advances in archaeology. It looks at this critical interface to provide alternative understandings of communities, beliefs, cultural systems, sacred sites, ritual practices, food habits, dietary modifications, power, and agents of political legitimisation. The books in the Series underline the importance of archaeological evidence in the production of knowledge of the past. They also emphasise that a systematic study of religion requires engagement with a diverse range of sources such as inscriptions, iconography, numismatics and architectural remains. Negotiating Cultural Identity Landscapes in Early Medieval South Asian History Edited by Himanshu Prabha Ray Archaeology and Religion in Early Northwest India History, Theory, Practice Daniel Michon For a full list of titles in this series, please visit www.routledge.com/ Archaeology-and-Religion-in-South-Asia/book-series/AR

Negotiating Cultural Identity Landscapes in Early Medieval South Asian History Second Edition

Edited by Himanshu Prabha Ray

Second edition published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 selection and editorial matter, Himanshu Prabha Ray; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Himanshu Prabha Ray to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. First edition published by Routledge 2015 British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-0-367-22272-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-27416-9 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Contents

List of figures List of maps Notes on contributors Preface by Madhavan K. Palat Introduction

vii ix x xii 1

H I M A N S H U P RA B H A RAY

PART 1

The archaeology of space 1 India cartographica: some Roman sightings

11 13

G R A N T PA R K ER

2 Cartography and cultural encounter: conceptualisation of al-Hind by Arabic and Persian writers from the 9th to 11th centuries CE

34

N O É M I E V E R DO N

3 Self, other and the use and appropriation of late Roman coins in peninsular India (4th–7th centuries CE)

57

R E B E C CA DA R L E Y

PART 2

Defining cultural landscapes 4 Sacred spaces of the middle Ganga valley: a case study of Varanasi V I DU L A J AYA SWAL

77

79

vi

Contents

5 Transforming the landscape: questions of medieval reuse and worship at ancient Jain rock-cut sites near Madurai

97

L I SA N . OW EN

6 Of saffron, snow and spirituality: glimpses of cultural geography in the Raˉjataran˙gin∙ˉı

120

S H O N A L E E KA KAUL

7 Space for change: evaluating the ‘paucity of metallic currency’ in medieval India

136

S H A I L E N D R A B H A N DA RE

8 Colonial imagination and identity attribution: numismatic cues for defining space

174

M A M TA DWIVE DI

9 Shrines as ‘monuments’: issues of classification, custody and conflict in Orissa

200

U M A K A N TA MISH RA

10 Continuity and change in the sacred landscape of the Buddhist site of Udayagiri, Odisha

230

U M A K A N TA MISH RA

Index

257

Figures

3.1

4.1 4.2 4.3 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 5.6 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7 7.8 7.9 7.10 7.11 7.12 7.13

A Probable Imitation of a Solidus of Anastasius I (r. 491–518) with Visible Double Piercing Emphasising the Imperial Bust and Pierced from Obverse to Reverse, from the Akki Alur Hoard Exposed Structures In and Around Dharmarajika Stupa at Sarnath (1904–07) Excavations at Rajghat (1940) Excavations at Ramnagar (2006–07) Jina Image at Alagarmalai, c. 9th Century CE Medieval Carvings at Anaimalai, c. 9th or 10th Century CE Jina Image at Karungalakkudi, c. 9th Century CE Medieval Carvings at Kilakuyilkudi (Pechchipallam), c. 9th Century CE Jina Images at Muttupatti, c. 9th or 10th Century CE Medieval Carvings at Uttamapalayam, c. 9th or 10th Century CE Copper Coin of Huna King Toramana Silver Dramma from North Punjab with Legend ‘Prachandendra’ Silver Indo-Sasanian Coin from Rajasthan Silver Dramma of Maukhari Ruler Ishanavarman ‘Vigrahapala’ Dramma ‘Adivaraha’ Dramma ‘3-Dots’ Type Silver Dramma of Pratihara Dynasty Base Gold Coin of Sarvabhata, Ruler of Samatata Region Gold Coin of Dharmapala, Pala King of Bengal Base Gold Coin of ‘Chakra’, Ruler of Assam Silver Coin of ‘Harikela’, Arakan Region, Bangladesh Silver Coin of Krishnaraja, Kalachuri Ruler of Mahishmati, Bengal ‘Vishnukundin’-Type Coin with a Bull, Khandesh Region, Northern Maharashtra

67 80 82 91 101 102 104 106 108 110 140 141 142 143 143 144 145 146 146 147 147 148 148

viii

Figures

7.14 7.15 7.16 7.17 7.18 7.19 10.1

10.2 10.3 10.4 10.5

10.6 10.7

Rashtrakuta Gold Coin with Legend ‘Shri Shubhatunga’ Silver Dramma of Rashtrakuta Period Vishnukundin Coin from Andhra Pradesh Eastern Chalukya Coin in ‘Vishnukundin’-Type Attributed to Vishnuvardhana Silver Dramma with Bilingual Legends from Sindh Base Gold Coin with ‘Ratnattraya’ Legend and Seated Manjushri, Eastern Bengal Khondalite Relic Casket with Inscription in Brāhmī in One Line Stating Kohakoṇasa ja, 1st Century BCE, Udayagiri caityagṛha Complex Caityagṛha Complex: Most Important Spiritual Magnetic Field of Udayagiri Sacred Site Steatite, Silver and Golden Casket within Khondalite Casket from Mahāstūpa of Lalitagiri, 2nd Century BCE Steatite Casket from Mahāstūpa of Lalitagiri, 2nd Century BCE Buddha Flanked by Two Bodhisattvas with Pratītyasamutpāda Below the Viswapadma Found from Stupas, Indicating Its Deposit During Consecration of Stupa, Ratnagiri, 8th Century CE Bodhigarbhālankāralakṣa Dhāraṇī from Udayagiri II caityagṛha Complex Area Abhisaṁbodhi Vairocana from the Mahāvairocanasūtra on his backslab, Lalitagiri, 7th Century CE

149 150 151 151 152 153

236 237 240 240

244 247 249

Maps

2.1 Routes Described by Bīrūnī 3.1 Roman (rectangle) and Late Roman (circle) Coin Finds Mapped Alongside Excavated Ports (triangle) and Major Rivers in South India 3.2 Roman (rectangle) and Late Roman (circle) Coin Finds Mapped Alongside Excavated Ports (triangle), Major Rivers and Significant Buddhist Sites (star) in South India 4.1 Location of Excavated Sites of Varanasi 8.1 Sites with More Than Two Types of Identifiable Inscribed Coin Finds (2nd Century BCE–4th Century CE) 10.1 Map of the Diamond Triangle Buddhist Sites of Lalitagiri, Udayagiri and Ratnagiri in Odisha 10.2 Plan of Udayagiri Buddhist Complex 10.3 Map Showing the Plan of Lalitagiri

39

64

66 80 188 234 235 239

Contributors

Shailendra Bhandare is Assistant Keeper, Numismatics, Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford, UK. His recent publications include ‘Not Just a Pretty Face: Interpretations of Alexander’s Numismatic Imagery in the Hellenic East’, in Himanshu Prabha Ray and D. T. Potts (eds), Memory as History: The Legacy of Alexander in Asia (2007); and ‘Numismatics and History: The Maurya-Gupta Interlude in the Gangetic Plain’, in Patrick Olivelle (ed.), Between the Empires: Society in India 300 BCE to 400 CE (2006). Rebecca Darley completed her PhD from the University of Birmingham, UK, and worked as a curator for the exhibition ‘Faith and Fortune: Visualising the Divine on Byzantine and Early Islamic Coinage’ at the Barber Institute of Fine Arts, Birmingham. Further, she is Research Assistant for a British Academy project that explores the possible impact of the proposed UK policies on open access publishing on humanities and social sciences. In 2012–13, she was Junior Fellow at Dumbarton Oaks Museum, Washington, DC. Mamta Dwivedi completed her doctorate at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. Her research interests include the study of coins and the concept of money in early India. Vidula Jayaswal holds the Prof. R. C. Sharma Chair for Art and Archaeology, Jnana Pravaha, Centre for Culture Studies and Research, Varanasi, India. She was formerly Professor, Banaras Hindu University. She has authored several books, namely Ancient Varanasi: An Archaeological Perspective (2009); Royal Temples of the Gupta Period (2001); Kushana Clay Art of the Ganga Plains (1991); Paleohistory of India (1978); and an edited volume, Glory of the Kushans: Recent Discoveries and Interpretations (2012). Shonaleeka Kaul is Associate Professor, Department of History, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. In 2007–08, she was selected as the Dinakar Singh Distinguished Visiting Fellow in South Asian Studies in the Department of History, Yale University, USA. Her publications include

Contributors

xi

Imagining the Urban: Sanskrit and the City in Early India (2011) and an edited volume, Cultural History of Early South Asia: A Reader (2014). Umakanta Mishra is Lecturer, Ravenshaw University, Cuttack, India. He has been associated with the Boats of South Asia Project, Oxford University (1996); Digital Temple Atlas of Orissa, Tubingen University (2002); and the Religion and Development Research Program, Birmingham University and Jawaharlal Nehru University (2005–06). His recent publications include Vajrayana Buddhism: Study in Social Iconography (2009). In January 2017, he was invited to present a paper at the 2nd International Conference on ASEAN – India Civilizational Links, held in Jakarta. Lisa N. Owen is Associate Professor of Art History, University of North Texas, USA. Her area of research is ancient and medieval rock-cut monuments in India. She is particularly interested in the ways the sacred space is articulated in this medium and what this means for worshippers and devotional practices. She has authored a book titled Carving Devotion in the Jain Caves at Ellora (2012), and published essays in journals, such as Artibus Asiae and Marg, and also in Himanshu Prabha Ray (ed.), Archaeology and Text: The Temple in South Asia (2010). Grant Parker is Associate Professor, Department of Classics, Stanford University, California, USA. He was initially trained in Latin philology, but subsequently branched out into cultural history and material culture studies. His publications include The Making of Roman India (2008), Ancient India in its Wider World (co-edited with Carla Sinopoli, 2008) and The Agony of Asar (2001). Noémie Verdon is post-doctoral fellow, Kyoto University, Japan.

Preface

The chapters assembled in this valuable book are the product of a conference organised by Himanshu Prabha Ray and myself at the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library in New Delhi in late 2012. As often happens with such conference proceedings volumes, not all papers could be included, despite their high quality and stimulating discussions that followed their presentation. The length of the book had to be controlled and thematic unity ensured. One of these omitted papers is the opening one of the conference, Benjamin Kedar’s ‘Jerusalem’s Sacred Esplanade: Rival Conceptualizations of a Single Space’. As the volume was eventually focused on South Asia, this, and other such papers, was not included. It had been intended as the entry point to the theme of the conference, the diverse ways in which space is used to construct traditions and shape cultures; and Jerusalem offered an unrivalled example of it, both for its immensely long and contested history as well as for the outstanding scholarship that it has attracted. Benjamin Kedar captures that history and represents that scholarship authoritatively. It is a tale of competing ideologies swirling around a single site, defining its sacredness in multiple ways, including spatially, but never allowing it to suffer the fate of Ozymandias, king of kings. The issues it raised are germane to the rest of the book, and we are grateful to the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library for hosting it as an Occasional Paper on its website. The other papers go over every one of the themes touched upon in the first one, be it religion (inevitably), landscapes, settlements, material cultural artefacts like coins, and finally multiple conceptualisations in modern scholarship. What does seem clear is that no space is ever abandoned: once defined, it is re-appropriated in so many ways; it is ever contested; and even if ‘lost’ in forests, deserts and mountain tops, it is recovered and restored to a full life in the present. The human footprint is never erased; and, although it has not been explored in this volume, it would be evident on the high seas as much as it is on land. This is a tribute to human creativity and its everlasting impact; and it is both reassuring and humbling to realise that our ideological obsessions are neither eternal nor forgotten, but are repeatedly absorbed into the flow of that history.

Preface

xiii

It is a pleasure to thank the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, its Director, Mahesh Rangarajan, and its ever helpful staff, for generous support in organisation, logistics, and above all, finance. There was no problem that could not be surmounted, from visas for international participants and videoconferencing for those who could not be physically present, to accommodations for all during the most crowded season of the year. Our thanks to one and all. Madhavan K. Palat February 2014

Introduction Himanshu Prabha Ray

Physical space shapes and is shaped through cultural behaviour. We imbue defined spaces with meaning, project our schemas onto them and invest our thoughts, values and collective sensibilities in them. These spaces often become a means of constructing the collective past and social traditions, as well as personal and social identities. The theme of this volume draws on research by archaeologists, numismatists and historians on the social and cultural construction of such landscapes. This space encompasses a range of environments from the village to the shrine, from journeys cutting across space to those connected through trade and economic transactions. Sacralisation of the landscape involved demarcation of a cultural topography either through construction of religious architecture or by including prominent features of the natural environment.1 An archaeological landscape provides interesting insights into the ways people in the past (and in the present) engaged with the built and natural environment and imbued it with meanings. The cultural landscape of Banavasi, known at present as an ancient temple-town in Uttara Kannada district of Karnataka on the river Varada, comprises of a number of mounds and covers an area of more than 1.5 square kilometres. There is a large brick fortification enclosing the present habitation and the temples. A brick apsidal temple with a platform was excavated at the site and dated to the early centuries of the Common Era. By the 4th century the Buddhist landscape of Banavasi gave way to a Shaiva cultural landscape and many temples were built in and around the city. In inscriptions Banavasi is also known as the capital of the ruling dynasty of the Kadambas. From the 8th century onward memorialisation of the dead in the form of hero stones, sati stones and nisidhi stones appear on the landscape of the city. Through intensive archaeological survey, Suvrathan was able to reconstruct complex patterns of historical development at the site of Banavasi.2

Landscape as a category of historical analysis Landscape is construed not simply as scenery, but as a cultural complex in which the natural world and human practice, conceptual and material, are

2

Himanshu Prabha Ray

dynamically linked and constantly interacting. How do people interact with the landscape? How does it inspire them to create buildings? How do they integrate building structures into the landscape? How do they modify the landscape for their rituals and ceremonies associated with deities that are identified with that site? The human marking of the landscape helps to make the sacred quality of the place discernible for generations to come. By encapsulating traces of the past, landscapes have the ability to provide insights into making that past accessible. Thus, the shrine is able to exist both in the past and the present. Mapping the past is an essential tool for understanding, in a schematic manner, where and when things happened. Is it possible to expect accuracy as regards locations and borders of states/cities/regions in the ancient past and their continued existence into the present? Maps represent meanings that societies attribute to space. The relative position of places on a map indicates how a society understands the meaning of space. Maps thus encode knowledge of the known world, but more importantly they interface between theoretical and practical data. This interface involved several elements in society: travellers, geographers, but also political powers and their conceptualisation of the ‘world’ over which they ruled. This is an issue addressed in Grant Parker’s book,3 which highlights the discourse on India as evident in Greek literary representations of the Roman period – Greek being the language of intellectual discourse during the Roman Empire. He uses three travellers – Apollonius the sage, Thomas the apostle and the anonymous author of the Periplus Maris Erythraei – to underscore the varied visions of India. The objective was not to trace the historicity of the journeys, but to present mental maps, as evident in the literary visions and the investigation of the textual complexities involved. India entered Greek imagination in the 5th–4th centuries BCE, but its representation acquired complexity as a result of Alexander’s invasion of the subcontinent in the 4th century BCE. In the Indian context while landscapes4 and gardens5 have been written about, Landscape Histories are still restricted to specific river valleys and regions, though secondary literature on the theme is gradually expanding. For example, Julia Shaw’s research on the Buddhist complex at Sanchi in central India relates the monastic complex with a continuous constructional sequence from c. 3rd century BCE to 12th century CE to other aspects of the archaeological landscape including settlements (particularly the ancient city of Vidisha), ritual centres, rock-shelters and aspects of land-use and watermanagement.6 The principal research question that she addresses is ‘how did the spread of Buddhism from its cradle in the Gangetic valley relate to other key processes such as urbanisation, state-formation and innovations in agriculture during the late centuries BCE?’ Sarnath is known as the place where the Buddha preached his first sermon because in the 19th century, Alexander Cunningham, Director-General of the Archaeological Survey of India, visited the large mound of stones and brick and collected images. A stone image of the Buddha inscribed with the

Introduction

3

ye dhamma hetu pabhava . . . verse had been found along with two urns near the Dhamekh stupa in 1794. Since then Sarnath has been subjected to several seasons of archaeological excavations and it was in the 1905 excavations that the lion pillar capital and an Asokan sandstone pillar were discovered. In the early centuries of the Common Era, Sarnath seems to have been enriched with new monasteries as well as a number of images including the red sandstone preaching Buddha established by bhikshu Bala of Mathura. However, it was in the 4th–6th centuries CE that Sarnath reached a high watermark, including also the construction of the gigantic Dhamekh stupa. Also ascribable to this period are a number of sculptures and inscriptions as well as numerous renovations and restorations. Hence, over the centuries, an overall expansion occurred at the site of Sarnath and this continued well into the 12th century. A remarkable aspect of the excavations was the number of Jain and Hindu icons that were unearthed from monastery 1, attributed to Kumaradevi of the 12th century, and at other locations at the site.7 The only structure dating to the post-12th century period is a 16th-century octagonal brick tower that was constructed on top of Chaukhandi stupa by Govardhan, son of Raja Todarmal to commemorate Humayun’s visit to the place. An inscription recording the event refers to it as a lofty tower reaching to the blue sky.8 It is this growth and shrinking of the Buddhist landscape at Sarnath that has been documented by Vidula Jayaswal based on results of archaeological excavations in and around the site.9 In Daroji Valley, Kathleen Morrison examines the reservoirs of the 14th–17thcentury Vijayanagara Empire, which operated within complex agrarian worlds that integrated the actions of farmers, herders, elite patrons, kings, and even gods and demons in meaningfully constituted local geographies. The book thus integrates textual, archaeological, topographical/hydrological and architectural information to build a long-term landscape history of one large valley in north Karnataka located south of the city of Vijayanagara.10 This new research, while utilising archaeological inputs on the intersection of natural and cultural spaces, continues the focus in current historical writings on urban centres and the state. What is perhaps required is a shift in focus to comprehend the segregation of spaces into secular and sacred and their categorisation into ‘monuments’ over time.

The archaeology of space The archaeological record from South Asia provides evidence for the colonisation of a variety of ecological niches from the prehistoric period onwards. Cultic affiliations and religious structures, however, become identifiable only from the late Upper Palaeolithic period approximately 11,000 years ago. At Baghor in Madhya Pradesh, a circular platform was discovered with a unique piece of laminated stone positioned in the centre, and this platform was located in the middle of the settlement. The precise function of the stone and the platform is still unsolved. Clues are, however, provided by present

4

Himanshu Prabha Ray

practices of recently settled hunter-gatherers in the same region who collect similar stones from the Kaimur range and place them on platforms made from local rubble or at the base of the tree.11 These examples may be added to for a range of Mesolithic sites in the Indian subcontinent, especially with reference to another aspect of differentiated space, viz. the burial. The burial is not to be seen as a general means of disposing of the dead, since in terms of numbers, there is explicit association of burials only with a few members of the village or settlement. These early practices acquired complexity as well as diversity over time as evident from the archaeological record of the Harappan civilisation. In general the formation of the large urban centres of Mohenjo-daro and Harappa can be dated from 2600 to 1900 BCE. Within this time period over 1500 settlements of the Harappan civilisation are known over an area of more than 680,000 square kilometres of north-western South Asia, an area twice the size of ancient Egypt or Mesopotamia. Unlike Mesopotamia and Egypt, there were no temples in the Harappan period, nor for that matter are there any sculptures or images showing kings building or consecrating temples. Narrative depictions are found mainly on tiny moulded tablets of terracotta or faience and these generally show ritual offerings to deities or battles with wild animals. An examination of the spatial organisation of settlements indicates that already in the 3rd–2nd millennium BCE there was a separation of the burial/ ritual and habitation spaces. The typical burial was extended inhumation in a rectangular or oval pit and generally containing pottery as grave goods. In addition there are scattered finds of pottery jars of several descriptions filled with an assortment of materials, such as smaller pots, seals, chert, terracotta toys, animal bones, grains, ash and charcoal, but almost never a human bone.12 Megalithic monuments constructed of large stones often with sepulchral associations are conspicuous features of the landscape in India extending from Kashmir in the north to TamilNadu in the south, and it was these that first drew the attention of archaeologists and historians. Though dates for individual sites are not available, the general time-span for the Iron Age and its associated megaliths covers a period from the beginning of the 1st millennium BCE to the end of the 3rd century CE. Several groups residing in the Nilgiri hills as well as in north-east India, however, continued to erect megalithic structures well into the present and these are linked to a variety of cultural contexts. In contrast to the preceding Neolithic period dated to the 3rd–2nd millennium BCE, when burials were placed beneath house floors, the 1st millennium BCE sites are characterised by a separation of the burial and living space, though archaeologically many more burial sites are known as compared to habitation sites. Bauer’s analysis of the archaeological record and the distribution of megalithic monument forms and sizes at Hire Benakal in Karnataka as part of a broader cultural landscape of ancient activities and cultural practices shows that that the creation of these megalithic places by ancient inhabitants linked

Introduction

5

commemorative practices with subsistence and production activities. The site of Hire Benakal is located on the north side of a broad range of residual hills about 10 kilometres from Gangawati town in Koppal district where 690 dolmens are found near a broad rock pool that was expanded by quarrying activities, likely for the construction of monuments. Detailed survey and documentation helps contextualise the Iron Age monuments at Hire Benakal within ‘the politics of Iron Age social differentiation’ and shows disparities that existed in mobilisation of labour for the erection of the stupendous megalithic dolmens.13 This is a theme further developed in this book, which provides evidence for the existence of social inequity in the Tungabhadra River basin in north Karnataka. The Tungabhadra valley was one of the more densely populated areas of the south starting from the prehistoric period onward.14 The creation of symbolically differentiated spaces in the 3rd and 2nd millennium BCE had already initiated the process of creating inequalities in society, as evident through a combination of archaeological and environmental research. This was further consolidated in the 1st millennium BCE when the practice of construction of megalithic monuments was in existence largely through new forms of large-scale labour mobilisation and differential access to land and water resources. The period from 300 BCE to 500 CE in the Tungabhadra basin shows continuities in terms of the material assemblage with the preceding Iron Age but is distinguished by the presence of writing and inscriptions, along with institutionalised religion such as Buddhism, Jainism and Hinduism. There are also references to guilds along the west and east coasts of peninsular India. Clearly by the 4th century BCE, sites in the Tungabhadra River Corridor participated in a larger network including large parts of central and north India. Bauer’s study thus fills a lacuna in the understanding of cultural landscapes of the south Indian past, which has generally been discussed in terms of the institutionalisation of social inequalities because of the so-called ‘Brahmanical’ influence from north India. Ritual and worship came to occupy well-defined space as distinct from the settlement area and this demarcation became more distinct in the later periods, and by the 3rd–1st centuries BCE local and regional cults coexisted with Buddhist and Jaina monastic complexes and the Hindu temple. While the stupa was a funerary monument, the caitya indicated a shrine, though marked by diverse forms as evident from its occurrence in Bharhut inscriptions on panels depicting a tree within railing.15 The variety and religious affiliation of shrines in Asia is extraordinary and ranges from open air tree shrines to elaborate temples, monumental stupas and colossal mosques. Similarly remarkable is the sanctity accorded to certain locations, which continue to be revered by devotees of different religions. An appropriate example of this is the site of Ellora, in the Aurangabad district of the present state of Maharashtra in India.16 The earliest cave excavation at Ellora began in the late 6th century and was dedicated to Siva, followed by Buddhist and Jaina caves over the next several centuries until the 10th century

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CE. Three kilometres from the caves at Ellora is Khuldabad, known as the valley of saints as it is said to contain the graves of 1500 Sufi saints, as well as the tomb of the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, those of his sons and his generals. Ellora is by no means the only example of religious pluralism, but is instead one of the many sacred places that preserve diverse historical memories. Linked to the discourse on space is the creation of exclusive or prohibited spaces. Inscriptions from the subcontinent dated as early as the 2nd and 3rd centuries CE record immunities granted by the king to monastic centres and other religious institutions. Soldiers and other agents of the ruler were prohibited from entering land and villages donated to religious centres. Historians of ancient India and medieval Europe have often seen these land-grants as a sign of political weakness and suggested that in giving up jurisdictional control, for example, kings paved the way for feudal decentralisation. Barbara Rosenwein’s pioneering book offers a wide-ranging study of changing notions of sacred and prohibited space in medieval Europe.17 A growing concern with the independence of Christian monasteries and with the sacrosanct nature of altars and monastic enclosures is reflected in the earliest charters of immunity and exemption, which emerged from the courts of the late 6th- and early 7th-century Merovingian rulers. In the 8th century, the Carolingians introduced a new conception of rule and immunities and exemptions were radically transformed, becoming linked to the notion of protection. Protection implied control, and this led to closer involvement of kings and bishops in the affairs of immune and exempt institutions. In the 10th and 11th centuries, immunities and exemptions changed yet again. In the early Middle Ages religion and land were considered essential for the proper functioning of society in Europe. Immunities or royal documents that prohibited the king’s agents from entering certain lands to collect taxes and carry out judicial functions provided a means of combining the two. They set up and cemented alliances between kings, churchmen and other magistrates and while doing so they implicitly declared a reorganisation of land use by setting certain lands apart and off-limits (at least to certain people for certain purposes).18 Immunities were thus a part of religiouspolitical royal and episcopal policy to construct space, define boundaries and prohibit entries. Another prominent example is that of the Esplanade in Old Jerusalem, measuring nearly 15 hectares which has been considered sacred for about three millennia by Jews, Christians and Muslims. The Solomonic and Herodian temples once stood there and it is regarded as the holiest space in Judaism. The Herodian temple was visited repeatedly by Jesus and is held sacred in Christendom, while in Islam it is the space to which Prophet Mohammed travelled.19 As many of the chapters in this volume show (Jayaswal, Owen, Kaul), sacred spaces were by no means static categories and were instead decoded and invested with new meaning over time leading to re-appropriations and re-inventions both spatially and temporally. For example, Banaras located

Introduction

7

on the left bank of the river Ganga is at present famous as Kashi, the abode of Shiva and the scared city of the Hindus. In 1940, archaeological excavations undertaken at Rajghat near Kashi railway station had sought to identify the core of the city and traced its beginnings to 800 BCE. More recent work at several mounds around the present city of Varanasi, such as Akhta, Ramnagar, Tilmanpur, Kotwa and Asapur, has provided evidence for a continuous and multi-religious growth of settlements and religious architecture on the banks and flood plains of the river Ganga. Another emphasis of the volume relates to the definition of space through material objects, such as coins, often associated with economic transactions (Bhandare). Trade is seen as forging channels of communication for the development of new languages and knowledge, but more importantly it is located in markets and predicated on the skills of money changers, bankers and moneylenders. To what extent do cultural parameters determine the context of money and the extent to which coins reflect ways in which several sections of society, including rulers, bolstered their power through the use of imagery on coins, myths, language and material culture? For example, in the 4th– 8th centuries, late Roman coins did not carry the same royal, governmental associations in India and Sri Lanka as in the Late Roman-Byzantine Empire. Instead coins became a symbolic ground for appropriation and modification: the broadly secular, economic status of coins in the west became invested with alternative meanings in the east, and accordingly moved around a landscape defined by other meanings and parameters (Darley). This collection of chapters deals with the perception, use and representation of the landscape as an essential dimension of life in the early medieval period and draws on case studies both from India and the larger world with which the subcontinent interacted (Parker, Verdon). An issue that Chapters 8 and 9 (Dwivedi and Mishra) address is a reexamination of the methodologies adopted by colonial administrators/military personnel or those trained in philology and languages, but rarely in archaeology or in the study of religious architecture or numismatics. To what extent did the knowledge base determine the parameters of the debates as they emerged in the study of the Indian past? The Archaeological Survey of India classified ancient sacred centres in particularistic and exclusivist terms as centrally protected monuments and in the process distorted the very nature of sacred centres of the past. In the final chapter, Mishra analyses architectural remains from the excavated Buddhist monastic site of Udayagiri on the river Birupa in coastal Odisha to comprehend philosophical changes that underwrote architectural transformations. It is this engagement with the landscape that has marked Mishra’s writings on Odisha.20

Notes 1 Himanshu Prabha Ray, ‘The Archaeology of Ritual Spaces: Satellite Images and Early Chalukyan Temples’, Man and Environment, 2007, 32(1): 89–101; Himanshu

8

2 3 4 5 6

7 8 9 10 11 12 13

14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Himanshu Prabha Ray Prabha Ray, ‘Archaeology of Early Temples in the Chalukyan Region’, in Shonaleeka Kaul (ed.), Cultural History of Early South Asia: A Reader, Hyderabad: Orient Blackswan, 2014. Uthara Suvrathan, ‘The Multivalence of Landscapes: Archaeology and Heritage’, in Himanshu Prabha Ray (ed.), Decolonising Heritage in South Asia: The Global, the National and the Transnational, Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2019, pp. 90–108. Grant Parker, The Making of Roman India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Amita Sinha, Landscapes in India: Forms and Meanings, University Press of Colorado, 2006. Daud Ali and Emma J. Flatt (eds.), Garden and Landscape Practices in Precolonial India: Histories from the Deccan, New Delhi: Routledge, 2011. Julia Shaw, Buddhist Landscapes in Central India: Sanchi Hill and Archaeologies of Religious and Social Change, c. 3rd Century BC to 5th Century AD, London: British Association for South Asian Studies, The British Academy; Leftcoast Press, 2007; republished London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Daya Ram Sahni, Catalogue of the Museum of Archaeology of Sarnath, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1914, pp. 164–6. Friedrich Oscar Oertel, Excavations at Sarnath, Archaeological Survey of India: Annual Report 1904–05, New Delhi: Swati Publications, 1990 (reprint), p. 74. Vidula Jayaswal, The Buddhist Landscape of Varanasi, New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2015. Kathleen Morrison, Daroji Valley: Landscape History, Place, and the Making of a Dryland Reservoir System, New Delhi: Manohar, 2009. Jonathan Mark Kenoyer, ‘Socio-Ritual Artifacts of Upper Palaeolithic HunterGatherers in South Asia’, in Gregory Possehl (ed.), South Asian Archaeology Studies, New Delhi: Oxford & IBH, 1992, p. 243. Gregory L. Possehl, The Indus Civilization: A Contemporary Perspective, Oxford: Altamira Press, 2002, p. 170. Andrew Bauer, ‘Landscapes of Heritage and Landscapes of Practice: Contextualizing the Megaliths of Hire Benakal’, in Himanshu Prabha Ray and Manoj Kumar (eds.), Indian World Heritage Sites in Context, New Delhi: National Monuments Authority and Aryan Books International, 2014, pp. 45–72. Andrew Bauer, Before Vijayanagara: Prehistoric Landscapes and the Politics in the Tungabhadra Basin, New Delhi: Manohar and American Institute of Indian Studies, 2015. H. Sarkar, Studies in Early Buddhist Architecture of India, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1993 [1966], p. 5. Geri H. Malandra, Unfolding a Mandala: The Buddhist Cave Temples at Ellora, New York: State University of New York Press, 1993. Barbara H. Rosenwein, Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999. Ibid., p. 8. Oleg Graber and Benjamin Z. Kedar, Where Heaven and Earth Meet: Jerusalem’s Sacred Esplanade, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi Press and Austin: University of Texas Press, 2009, p. 9. Umakant Mishra, ‘Multiple Gods, Goddesses and Buddhas: Locating Buddhism in the Religious Dynamics of Early Medieval Orissa’, in Hermann Kulke (ed.), Imaging Odisha, Orissa: Prafulla Pathagar, 2013, pp. 194–209.

References Ali, Daud and Emma J. Flatt (eds.), Garden and Landscape Practices in Precolonial India: Histories from the Deccan, New Delhi: Routledge, 2011.

Introduction

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Bauer, Andrew, ‘Landscapes of Heritage and Landscapes of Practice: Contextualizing the Megaliths of Hire Benakal’, in Himanshu Prabha Ray and Manoj Kumar (eds.), Indian World Heritage Sites in Context, New Delhi: National Monuments Authority and Aryan Books International, 2014, pp. 45–72. Bauer, Andrew, Before Vijayanagara: Prehistoric Landscapes and the Politics in the Tungabhadra Basin, New Delhi: Manohar and American Institute of Indian Studies, 2015. Graber, Oleg and Benjamin Z. Kedar, Where Heaven and Earth Meet: Jerusalem’s Sacred Esplanade, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi Press and Austin: University of Texas Press, 2009. Jayaswal, Vidula, The Buddhist Landscape of Varanasi, New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2015. Kenoyer, Jonathan Mark, ‘Socio-Ritual Artifacts of Upper Palaeolithic Hunter-Gatherers in South Asia’, in Gregory Possehl (ed.), South Asian Archaeology Studies, New Delhi: Oxford University Press and IBH, 1992. Malandra, Geri H., Unfolding a Mandala: The Buddhist Cave Temples at Ellora, New York: State University of New York Press, 1993. Mishra, Umakant, ‘Multiple Gods, Goddesses and Buddhas: Locating Buddhism in the Religious Dynamics of Early Medieval Orissa’, in Hermann Kulke, Nivedita Mohanty, Gaganendranath Dash, and Dinanath Pathy (eds.), Imaging Odisha, Orissa: Prafulla Pathagar, 2013, pp. 194–209. Morrison, Kathleen, Daroji Valley: Landscape History, Place, and the Making of a Dryland Reservoir System, New Delhi: Manohar, 2009. Parker, Grant, The Making of Roman India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Possehl, Gregory L., The Indus Civilization: A Contemporary Perspective, Oxford: Altamira Press, 2002. Ray, Himanshu Prabha, ‘The Archaeology of Ritual Spaces: Satellite Images and Early Chalukyan Temples’, Man and Environment, 2007, 32(1): 89–101. ———, ‘Voyages of “Discovery”: Mapping the Bay of Bengal’, in Satish Chandra and H. P. Ray (eds.), The Sea, Identity and History: From the Bay of Bengal to the South China Sea, New Delhi: Manohar, 2013, pp. 303–28. ———, ‘Archaeology of Early Temples in the Chalukyan Region’, in Shonaleeka Kaul (ed.), Cultural History of Early South Asia: A Reader, Hyderabad: Orient Blackswan, 2014. Rennell, James, Memoir of a Map of Hindoostan or the Mogul’s Empire, London: Printed by M. Brown for the Author, 1783. Rosenwein, Barbara H., Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999. Sarkar, H., Studies in Early Buddhist Architecture of India, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1966/1993. Shaw, Julia, Buddhist Landscapes in Central India: Sanchi Hill and Archaeologies of Religious and Social Change, c. 3rd Century BC to 5th Century AD, London: British Association for South Asian Studies, The British Academy; Leftcoast Press; Republished London and New York: Routledge, 2016/2007. Sinha, Amita, Landscapes in India: Forms and Meanings, University Press of Colorado, 2006. Suvrathan, Uthara, ‘The Multivalence of Landscapes: Archaeology and Heritage’, in Himanshu Prabha Ray (ed.), Decolonising Heritage in South Asia: The Global, the National and the Transnational, London and New York: Routledge, 2019, pp. 90–108.

Part 1

The archaeology of space

1

India cartographica Some Roman sightings Grant Parker

The British Isles were considered in the west as another world, perfect and complete in itself; but of smaller dimensions: . . . philosophers of old used to call Britain a microcosm. That is conformable to the notions of the Hindus, who say that it is another Meru, and exactly half of it, in all its dimensions. Divines in Tibet entertain exactly the same idea: for they likewise call the Elysium of Hopameh, in the west, another world. These islands are obviously the Sacred Isles of Hesiod, who represents them as situated an immense way . . . toward the north-west quarter of the old continent (Theogony 1014). From this most ancient and venerable bard I have borrowed the appellation Sacred Isles, as they are represented as such by the followers both of Brahma and Buddha, by the Chinese, and even by the wild inhabitants of the Philippine Islands.1

This epigraph from the British Sanskritist Francis Wilford (1761–1822) helps establish the parameters of the current chapter, the aim of which is to take stock of some of the ways in which India has been mapped. In the lengthy essay concluded by this passage, Wilford, an associate of Sir William Jones, sought to find references to the British Isles in the Puranas (‘ancient lore’), the corpus of Sanskrit texts embodying Hindu tradition. That goal was motivated not merely by Wilford’s personal origin but by a desire to show Britain’s antiquity, and indeed cultural priority, in relation to India. This suggests a project that is both a comparative ethnology, looking forward to J. G. Frazer’s Golden Bough a century later, and also obviously ethnocentric in its insistence on Britain as a privileged point of reference. As described here, it has utopian qualities, corresponding with Meru in the Puranic tradition;2 with Elysium in the broader Greco-Roman tradition, and in particular with the Sacred Isles of the Theogony by Hesiod, the ‘most ancient and venerable bard’ of ancient Greece, roughly contemporary with Homer. Wilford’s project became something of a cause célèbre in the early years of the 19th century when it became clear that the pandit who worked through the Puranas as his research assistant, in fact, fabricated a number of references by amending and supplementing the Sanskrit texts.3 At the very least, a passage like this illustrates the Greco-Roman orientation of many

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of these British scholars of India, the New Orientalists, something that was to some degree predetermined by their education.4 More fundamentally, it shows that locational projects of different kinds were an important pursuit of these Orientalists amidst their attempts to make sense of the South Asian world that presented new and emphatic challenges to their scholarship.5 Today, Wilford is studied for his own times rather than for any insights he might have had into ancient mapping practices.6 Nonetheless, the passage suggests that there are at least three ways in which we might meaningfully consider the mapping of India. 1

2

3

In a more generalised sense of colonial image-making, the idea of mapping is used today more broadly than it was, say, 50 years ago, so the term could be taken as a sign of Orientalism per se: in other words, the creation of an eastern Other and the power-relations around that other.7 With such a focus, a key figure might be Alexander the Great, and indeed the Achaemenid Empire before him, in the creation of this Far East with its pointedly exotic qualities. The key aspect of a map, by this reckoning, would be the explicit and implicit ways in which it formed part of the Orientalist discourse, a visual perspective on the political elements of the relationship between the self and other. If, however, we were to take a more literal approach and focus on visual representations involving scale, there would alternatively be the prospect of a long-term cartographic history.8 Such histories typically lead us from the darkness of ancient superstition, via progress, to the real, scientific knowledge made possible by the discovery of a sea-route to India. Pliny is the anti-hero of such versions, with his monsters at the ends of the earth; by contrast, Claudius Ptolemy is the hero, though one whose mistake of enclosing the Indian Ocean required Iberian voyages of discovery to rectify.9 Scientific progress, thus, starts with Ptolemy and leads us to Geographic Information System (GIS) and other blessings of the incomparable present. While it is easy and unhelpful to posit straw men here, it is clear that such books are still cited and widely sold, often in a coffee-table format but occasionally with academic heft.10 The concepts of progress and discovery are not easily wished away in cartographic studies, and receive constant reinforcement from popular publications. A third approach, again taking a long view of history, would shift the focus so as to emphasize the multiple mapping traditions of and involving India. (Indeed, the conjunction in the foregoing phrase will emerge in these pages as a particular problem, methodologically speaking.) A comparative tendency is certainly apparent in the passage quoted earlier. Indigenous thought-worlds, as expressed in Sanskrit and other literatures, have geographic and ethnographic elements that are typically implicit but are nonetheless open to visual representation. In particular, the Hindu tradition of cosmography can indeed be gleaned from

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the Puranas – through heavily qualified versions of Wilford’s project, deploying greater self-awareness and philological rigour. Whereas such descriptions contain a high degree of verbal visuality, they were not subject to visual representation in ancient times – apparently at no point before Wilford in the New Orientalist period of South Asian scholarship.11 While the Puranas took their current form between the 5th and 9th centuries CE, their geographical parts date from the first two centuries CE. At the risk of oversimplification, the Puranic universe may briefly be described in the following manner.12 The earth is a flat, horizontal disk within a vertical, egg-shaped cosmos. There are five heavens above and seven underworlds below. At the centre of the earth disk stands Meru, the axial mountain of the universe; around it the earth contains seven concentric circles, separated by oceans. The central continent is Jambudvipa, which is divided into nine subcontinents, separated by mountains. The Himalaya is the southernmost of these mountains, which demarcates the subcontinent, namely the Indian subcontinent, known as Bharatavarsha or Bharata. It is Bharata that is subdivided into nine broad bands of territory in an east – west direction; it is Bharata that is subject to lengthy lists of mountains, hills and especially rivers. This is also the part of the universe that is subject to a detailed ethnography focusing on the four varnas or classes. Social behaviours are ranked in such a way that the most preferable are to be found in the heartlands of ‘Aryan’ India, which also receives the greatest degree of detail by comparison with the margins. The most important aspect of the Puranic geography is its cosmology: far from being subject to one-to-one topographical analysis, it is part of a much broader plan that focuses on dharma, a central ethical concept of the Puranas.13 The environment or any other geographical element is outweighed by the all-important dharma.14 By no means were the Puranas the only geographical text. An entirely different version is found in the Sanskrit siddhantas (‘treatises’) of the medieval and early modern periods. These match the Greek tradition of Claudius Ptolemy’s astronomy in their geocentricity: the heavenly bodies rotate around a spherical earth, which is at the centre of the celestial sphere. This cosmology differs obviously from the flat-earth version described earlier; yet these, and others besides, largely co-existed from roughly the 5th to 18th centuries.15 Jain and Buddhist traditions, too, had their own cosmologies.16 Nonetheless, such implicit ancient geographies have tended not to be incorporated in the overviews of South Asian cartography.17 If we are to follow Wilford’s lead, adducing not only Chinese but also later Arab maps, the whole business of mapping begins to look very different, involving an insider’s view as well as an outside-in perspective and, if possible, even integrating the two. This third approach has recently been influentially articulated in the multi-volume History of Cartography, founded

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and initially edited by J. B. Harley and David Woodward (1987–). From the start, the editors have sought to accommodate and even combine different mapping traditions. Histories of cartography will never be the same again, even if the original editors’ expressed methodological aims are not as well realised in the first volume compared to more recent ones, several of which have appeared only since their deaths. Such work may generally be thought to reflect the impetus of the History of Cartography both in methodological rigour and in breadth of view; the impact on pre-modern societies is recently seen in collaborative volumes such as that of Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert.18 The topographic impulse has, understandably, been a major part in the studies of ancient geography, underlying the major collaborative projects, such as The Barrington Atlas19 and the Tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients (Tübingen Atlas of the Near East, TAVO) in Mediterranean and Near Eastern contexts, respectively; or notably the one by D. C. Sircar in a South Asian setting.20 By modern standards, Wilford took a remarkably narrow purview in trying to uncover the topography of the Puranas. But the urge to connect ancient literary references to particular places that are known otherwise, for example archaeologically, remains a strong one, as is clear in the critical editions of Ptolemy’s Geography.21 In a sense, the surveying and mapping work of James Rennell in the years 1764–76 represents the apogee of the topographical enterprise, both by virtue of its level of detail and its close connection with colonial interests.22 The scholarly side of ancient India’s literary topography was taken to a new level by the careful philological work by the Norwegian – German Orientalist Christian Lassen (1800–76).23 Such topographical approaches deserve to be contrasted with works which seek, instead, to understand the worldviews or cosmologies implied in texts. This third, cross-cultural approach remains the hardest to realise yet ultimately the most attractive goal in terms of ‘transcultural studies’.24 Indeed, cartographic studies tend not to cross cultural boundaries.25 This chapter is devoted to the less ambitious aim of analysing Roman practices. Reasons for this restriction are mainly practical, in that there remains considerable work to be done on all sides of a hypothetically wider-ranging study. Nonetheless, from an ancient Roman frame it is possible and desirable to look sideways, backwards and forwards. Compared with the second approach (2) sketched earlier, I avoid teleology. And in contrast to approach (1), the emphasis here is on visual representations of India from the Roman world as opposed to verbal – at least that is the goal. To that end, we shall first look in detail at five views or sightings of India, coming as close as we can to what we may call maps. The task is not as easy as it might seem, given the paucity of ancient Roman evidence that is directly relevant. We will come first to the Periplus of the Erythraean Sea; then Pliny the Elder’s Natural History; Ptolemy’s Geography; the Peutinger map; and finally to Cosmas Indicopleustes’ Christian Topography. This list cannot hope to exhaust all relevant representations, but the items have been chosen so as to characterize the variety of evidence

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available, by virtue of their individual importance. What emerges when these five pieces of evidence are considered in tandem? How do their features look when compared, however briefly, with other mapping traditions? How do their reception histories differ and what can we conclude from those differences? Finally, what conclusions emerge concerning the nature of Roman map-mindedness in particular and the nature of maps in general?

Five sightings The Periplus of the Erythraean Sea This first sighting is no map in itself, yet conjures a particular kind of map with great clarity. The Periplus of the Erythraean Sea is a guide written by an anonymous merchant for other merchants in around 40–70 CE. Written in bland and repetitious koine (rather than classical) Greek, it abounds with practical advice on what can be obtained or sold where, on the best seasons and routes to sail. The following extract may be considered typical: The ships lie at anchor at Barbaricum, but all their cargoes are carried up to the metropolis by the river, to the King. The following are imported into this market: a great deal of light cloth . . . , figured linens, topaz, coral, storax, frankincense, glass vessels, silver and gold plate, and a little wine. On the other hand the following can be exported from it: costus, bdellium, lycium, nard, turquoise, lapis lazuli . . . cotton cloth, silk yarn, and indigo. And sailors set out thither with the monsoon (lit. ‘Indian etesian wind’), about the month of July . . . : it is more dangerous then, but through these winds the voyage is more direct, and sooner completed. Beyond the river Sinthus there is another gulf, not navigable, running in toward the north; it is called Eirinon; its parts are called separately the small gulf and the great; in both parts the water is shallow, with constantly shifting sandbanks far way from shore; so that very often when the shore is not even in sight, ships run aground, and if they attempt to hold their course they are wrecked. (sections 39–40)26 The Periplus, in fact, traces two sea-routes, both starting from the Egyptian Red Sea coast, especially Berenike:27 the first rounds the Horn of Africa and heads south to roughly the vicinity of Zanzibar, whereas the second rounds Yemen before heading with the monsoon towards the Indus delta, then hugs the west coast of the subcontinent. In both routes, mastery of the monsoon is the key, and it is not surprising that Greek and Latin sources rehearse a number of versions about the first ‘discoverer’ of this monsoon, sometimes known as Hippalus. It is impossible to overemphasise the unusual nature of this text, quite apart from the localities covered: the north-western Indian

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Ocean. The author of the Periplus mentions four major emporia on the west coast of the Indian subcontinent, as also some inland river ports. About the east coast there is much less, but nonetheless some detail on the Ganges delta. In this case, the periplus form makes for a highly practical text rather than a literary one, even if it may have had an impact on literary texts.28 In the narrow sense, the Periplus of the Erythraean Sea has no visual element whatever, except insofar as that is realised by later readers, such as its most recent editor, Lionel Casson.29 Casson’s map may, thus, be said to express the implicit route-map contained in the Periplus text. Insofar as it emphasises seaborne networks of trade, the text is of enormous historical value, particularly in an Indian Ocean context.30 However, for all its practicality, the Periplus makes virtually no mention of language as an element or problem in the mechanics of commercial exchange (the one exception concerns a ruler based in the Horn of Africa, Section 5). Despite being ostensibly addressed to future travellers on the same sea-route, in a functional vein, there is a rare note of historical consciousness: Alexander, setting out from these parts, penetrated to the Ganges, leaving aside Damirica and the southern part of India; and to the present day ancient drachmae are current in Barygaza, coming from this country, bearing inscriptions in Greek letters, and the devices of those who reigned after Alexander, Apollodotus (I) and Menander. (section 47)31 Even here there is a material element: inscriptions and coins are here effectively the trappings of Greek culture. Today, they would be called heritage items. Alexander the Great is the all-important founding figure, combining myth and history:32 the statement that he reached the Ganges is historically true insofar as it is genuine ancient hyperbole. In fact, the 2nd-centuryBCE Greco-Bactrian kings Apollodotus I and Menander are best attested numismatically.33 While the Periplus does not rate a mention in Pliny’s Natural History, neither in Book 7 itself nor among the listed sources in Book 1, it represents the kind of compilation of geographic information that circulated at ports rather than in learned circles. What it lacks, from the point of view of a Strabo or a Pliny, is the auctoritas of Aristotle or a Hellenistic geographic source. Hence indeed the silence of Strabo and Pliny on this score. The Periplus may be considered geography overheard, its very existence as a written text an accident. As a route-map, it constructs ‘hodological space’, i.e., a linear, one-dimensional geography that matches an individual’s journey rather than the two-dimensional kind of map that is more familiar today. In this sense, the Periplus is a valuable document of Roman map-mindedness.34 Insofar as we have a ‘map’ of India, it is a set of instructions, evidently borne of experience, of how to get there and back via the monsoon; at the same time, it is also a map of commodities.35

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Pliny the Elder, Natural History With Pliny the Elder’s contemporary Natural History we still do not come exactly to realised maps though much closer to them. Pliny lived from 23 to 79 CE, by which time he was commander of the Roman fleet at Misenum on the Bay of Naples.36 His encyclopaedic Natural History is both the culmination of Hellenistic science and a text of its times, reflecting Rome’s power over an extended Mediterranean world; as we shall see, it is also a text that would have enormous impact. In 37 books, Pliny gives no less than an overview of Natura in all its facets. This massive work had a backward-looking quality, constantly engaging or acknowledging older bookish authorities; it would become a major authority in its own right in the Latin West. Pliny’s geographical work, constituting Books 3–6 of the Natural History, was less comprehensive or detailed than Strabo’s Geography. Yet, it was Pliny’s Latin work that was destined to have a much greater long-term impact than did Strabo’s Greek one. Already by the early 3rd century CE, Pliny’s work was excerpted and summarised by Solinus in his Collectanea rerum memorabilium. This was only the beginning of it, for in late antiquity, with first Orosius (c. 385–418 CE) and then Isidore of Seville (560–636 CE), Pliny had become a pre-eminent authority in matters geographical;37 Orosius and Isidore would, in turn, become key sources for the Mappaemundi or world maps of the Western Middle Ages. In this sense, we may justifiably speak of a Plinian tradition; but in doing so we must also bear in mind that in a different sense Pliny is, with Strabo, the culmination of the tradition of Hellenistic science. It is all the more ironic, then, that Pliny himself does not produce anything that might be called a map in the visual sense. The Natural History is, however, the main source for what may have been the important map of the Roman Empire – if indeed it ever existed. The so-called ‘Map of Agrippa’ is referred to at several points, but nothing survives of it. According to traditional wisdom, such a map was produced and prominently displayed in public by Augustus’ right-hand man, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa. This notion has, however, been challenged by Kai Brodersen. This is the single most important study of spatial consciousness in the Roman world, and a radical one: indeed, Brodersen has questioned the Roman use of visual maps in general. What he does concede is that some inscriptions, including the ones listing places, may have been accompanied by images; but these were secondary and even tangential, he argues, to geographical information that was basically transmitted in verbal form. Written itineraries are central to this conception of space.38 Whether the ‘Map’ of Agrippa was indeed a map or not, what it likely did share with Pliny’s Natural History is a panoptic, panoramic quality; whatever their sources, they were, in a profound sense, articulations of worldwide power. What I mean is not empire in the sense of governance but of an ideology of conquest. Such an aggrandising self-projection is, of course, not

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unique to Rome, but has been seen also in the architecture and epigraphy of the Vijayanagara empire.39 And such examples could be multiplied. When, in the midst of his description of India, Pliny says: ‘In order to give an idea of the geographical description of India we will follow in the footsteps of Alexander the Great’ (6.61),40 and then proceeds by mentioning the human hodometers or bematists that accompanied the expedition,41 there is, in fact, a restrictive element: this is north-western India, the Indus valley, whereas peninsular India is a different matter entirely, reached by less flamboyant seafarers and thus underneath the historiographic radar. Pliny’s most intense scholarly discussion about India, crossing swords with previous writers, involves distances and measurements. All this ‘has been brought to light by Alexander the Great and the kings that succeeded him’, as well as Greek ambassadors to Indian kings (6.58). It is hard to know who might have used such a proto-map as Pliny’s: while Pliny’s text might not have helped any of Rome’s tiny literate public to get from A to B, it certainly presented a view of the orbis terrarum or inhabited world. It would be most accurate to emphasise the pedagogic value of such a text, and its assertion of power: a compilation made by one member of the aristocracy for other members, spurred less by practical than didactic and ideological purposes. It is in this sense of empire, both political and pedagogic, that Pliny’s geography played a major role in the subsequent maps of the Latin West. Claudius Ptolemy, Geography With the Geography of Claudius Ptolemy we have a detailed recipe for mapmaking rather than maps per se. At the same time, there is a more immediate sense of practical utility. Apart from a lengthy introduction on cartographic method, the bulk of the work comprises lists of latitudes and longitudes, with brief commentary at the start of individual sections. Much of Ptolemy’s effort is aimed at the creation of a systematic encyclopaedia of all the known world’s locations, engaging with the methodological problem of projecting its orbic shape onto the two dimensions of a map.42 Claudius Ptolemy lived around 100–60 CE, and is today best known for his astronomical treatise Almagest. His Geography lists more than 8,000 places in Europe, Africa and Asia, according to their latitudes and longitudes. With this, we are within striking distance of real maps, though it is a matter of debate whether the Geography itself contained maps that have now gone astray. Certainly, early modern editions of the Geography contain maps, such as the 1482 Ulm edition, but in itself that fact means nothing about the ancient text. Ptolemy himself distinguishes his large-scale geography, which is scientific and mathematical, from the more detail-bound chorography, what would in Latin be called topography (1.1). Geography was essentially a Greek tradition, ardently pursued in Hellenistic times by Eratosthenes and others. Though Pliny and other Latin writers show some

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awareness thereof, it is Ptolemy’s Geography that represents the culmination of this tradition. Whereas Strabo is dismissive of geographical information gleaned from traders, Ptolemy makes it clear that both he and his predecessor Marinus set great store by the astronomical observations of those plying the routes of the Erythraean Sea. Ptolemy’s Geography, and not least his vision of India, was destined to have a profound impact on the history of maps. Together with the more distant east, India occurs in the seventh and last book of the Geography, and is divided into four sections (7.1.1): first, India this side of the Ganges; second, beyond the Ganges; third, the location of Sinai (whose inhabitants include Aithiopes ichthyphagi) and whose eastern side borders with unknown lands); and fourth, Taprobane and other islands. The remainder of the work moves away from India, offering instead a descriptive summary of world maps, of the armillary sphere and a general summary by way of conclusion. It is clear, from any analysis of the geographical co-ordinates specified in the text, that Ptolemy’s India is not a subcontinent or even peninsula at all; instead it has a fairly straight coastline running from east to west. For Ptolemy, the Ganges represents the key dividing line. The Indus, by contrast, is a valley supporting considerable settlement, rather than a boundary of any kind. ‘Gymnosophists’ are mentioned as an ethnic group living toward the eastern side, near the Ganges (7.1.51). With the partial exception of rivers, which are prominent in this section of the Geography (e.g., 7.1.29–41), there is nothing that substantively differentiates India from other parts of the world described by Ptolemy. Within this scheme, India, no less so than the Mediterranean, has definite places that can be mapped by co-ordinates. It abounds with cities (poleis). What does, however, mark this part of the world as exotic is the nudity of some of its inhabitants, such as the Nangalogai (7.2.18) and the island-dwelling Aginnatai (7.2.26). There is no notion that ‘here be lions’, hic sunt leones. Less integral to Ptolemy’s schema is his section on methodology in his first book. Here, we find a detailed reference to long-distance travel from the Red Sea to China, both by land and by sea (1.11.14). Here is a most remarkable journey by virtue of the distance overland. The reference to trade (1.11.6, emporia) strongly suggests that this is a reference to the Silk Route. It is all the more intriguing for the fact that it was undertaken by a certain Alexander, not the celebrated Macedonian ruler but another character of whom we know nothing else.43 Ptolemy himself was largely forgotten by the medieval world, both eastern and western, but later Byzantine manuscripts showed renewed interest in him, a revival that spread to Italy with the migration of Byzantine scholars in the late 14th and 15th centuries CE. In 1406, the Geography was translated into Latin by Jacopo Angeli da Scarperia, and this brought the work a much wider readership in the West. The rediscovery of Ptolemy would have major impact on cartography and seafaring in the early modern period, and the history of the editions of Ptolemy’s text closely matches the path of

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cartographic innovation. For example, the world maps produced by Martin Waldseemüller in the early 1500s reflect a dialogue between Ptolemy’s text and the new territorial discoveries. One of the critical questions in the history of cartography was whether the Indian Ocean was an inland sea, in other words, whether it was possible to sail round the Cape of Good Hope and reach South Asia by that route. This was proven when Vasco da Gama arrived in Goa in 1497, but it took several years for this new information to be reflected in European maps. The Ptolemaic and the Plinian traditions, thus, emerge very differently in the history of European map-making: one became the basis for maps in the early modern period, the other informed the marvel tradition of the Western Middle Ages.44 Peutinger map With the Peutinger map we finally come to what we might consider a real map, a visual representation with scale.45 Drawn in Colmar, France, in around 1200, it is a manuscript reflecting a late Roman original, which was itself dependent on earlier maps of the 1st or 2nd century CE. It gets its current name from its one-time owner, Conrad Peutinger, who received the manuscript in 1508 from its finder, Conrad Celtis. Residing now at the Nationalbibliothek in Vienna, it is a remarkable piece: at 6.82 m × 34 cm, it is highly elongated. Only 11 of the original 12 or 13 parchment sheets survive. The Mediterranean region takes up five-sixths of this format, and Italy nearly one-third. Despite this, the Mediterranean Sea itself and indeed other bodies of water also are short-changed, filling only a small percentage of the map space: by virtue of Italy’s prominence and the Mediterranean’s flattening, Rome, clearly marked as a metropolis, seems much closer to Carthage than it is to Naples. Not only is land emphasised over water, but the land itself is marked in detail with routes connecting major and minor settlements. These roads are punctuated with posting-stations, and the distances between them are marked. Major cities, such as Antioch, are marked with distinctive images, whereas mid-ranking cities, such as Salerno or Ephesus, receive only a conventional mark. Despite this emphasis on the Mediterranean lands, the map stretches the full extent of the ‘inhabited earth’ or orbis terrarum: on the left-hand side to Britain, we may infer (though the first sheet is now lost) and on the right to India. The system of land routes applies in India too, and this is really remarkable for the extent of Roman geographic knowledge. Nothing in the Periplus, Pliny or Ptolemy would lead us to expect this. Certainly, texts show knowledge of ports of the sub-continent, but not inland routes. Certainly, trade activity mentioned by the Periplus presupposes overland trade networks. What makes these roads not so plausible is that they are, in some cases, parallel to the coast. This does lead to the hypothesis, impossible to test, that this unexpected detail on the Peutinger map reveals the cartographer’s attempt to extend the chosen model over the entire area depicted, even

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if precise information here had to give way to broad conjecture. The rough grained and fairly regular coastline at this point is a giveaway, I think, when compared with Mediterranean coasts about which the mapmaker knew much more detail. Among the 70,000 Roman miles (104,000 km) covered in the roads of this map, distances between staging posts are carefully indicated: these are mostly in Roman miles, but leagues in the case of Gaul, parasangs in the case of Persia, and a different denomination in the case of India – what the History of Cartography meekly but reasonably calls ‘presumably Indian miles’. In the Roman world, let us remember, roads were often the object of imperial boasting: this is in part how we should understand triumphal arches, which mark their ends. There is good reason to take up Richard Talbert’s suggestion that this served an ideological or even propagandistic function of asserting imperial power over the entire inhabited earth. Another aspect of India’s representation on the Peutinger map deserves mention: the place it accords Alexander. ‘Here Alexander received the [oracular] reply: “How far are you going, Alexander?”’ (hic Alexander responsum accepit: ‘Usque quo Alexander?’). The oracular saying, found also in the Ravenna Cosmography, is part of later tradition.46 The ends of the known world were often marked, in Greco-Roman tradition, by Alexander’s expedition at its farthest points. Cosmas Indicopleustes, Christian Topography Dating from the mid-6th century CE, this text combines theological and geographical discussions.47 Cosmas’ 11th book includes a detailed description of the island of Taprobane, modern Sri Lanka. Of the many works that we know Cosmas to have written, the Christian Topography is the only one to have survived in more than fragments. But in fact the work in its current form does not sit easily between two covers: the longer of the two prologues to survive discusses the contents of the first five books only, and this suggests that the work may have originally ended at that point. The remaining seven books involve a high degree of repetition, not only between each other but also with the first six books. The differences between the two surviving prefaces suggest that the fuller version was the product of a second edition. When we get to the eleventh book, wherein Sri Lanka and, to some extent, India and Ethiopia are discussed at length, the focus of the work has moved considerably from the schematic cosmography of the first few books to topography and natural history: several animals and plants are recounted in detail. For the purpose of the chapter, it is sufficient to notice the variety within the work, and the possibility that the work in its current form preserves excerpts from Cosmas’ other works, now lost. Cosmas argues for a rectangular universe, in the shape of a vault, and matching that of the Tabernacle. His literal interpretation of the scriptures is in keeping with the Nestorian group based at Nisibis. This cosmological

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vision brought him into conflict with the Aristotelian philosopher John Philoponus, a clash that emerges most clearly from Philoponus’ subsequent De opificio mundi (557–60 CE). The use of first-person narrative, in which the monk Cosmas recalls his past trading ventures, invites comparison with another work in which authority derives not from books but from personal experience: the Periplus of the Erythraean Sea of some five centuries earlier, though, of course, the earlier work lacks Cosmas’ religio-philosophical content and its polemical tone. If it is maps of India that we seek, Cosmas strikes us as a huge disappointment: far from giving us a map of India or even Sri Lanka, he merely mentions those areas within a highly schematic plan of the cosmos. Like Ptolemy but in a vastly different framework, Cosmas uses India to mark the edges of the earth.

Five concerns It is time to stand back from these sightings in their own right, and to turn the overview approach into an opportunity for comparison. In some respects, we are left less with clear-cut themes than with critical issues that serve as cautionary notes, bearing on the broader themes of the current volume. Given that we are dealing with geographical knowledge that is exchanged, we might usefully parse the process of exchange into production, distribution and consumption, to the extent that the sources make that possible. Audience To start at the end, what audiences can be detected? This is not a bad place to start when a major recent book emphasises that maps are in a substantial sense defined by their function.48 The sightings discussed earlier give only a few clues. We are, perhaps, on surest ground with the Periplus, with its apparent practical utility, since it seems to have been written for seafarers much like its own author. The journeys are described in such a way that they can be replicated. In this respect, it stands out among the sightings discussed above, but perhaps invites comparison with some of the pilgrimage texts from India. There is no comparable sense in Pliny’s Natural History. Indeed, in marked contrast to contemporary practice, Pliny values book learning and literary sources above autopsy, particularly early Hellenistic sources from the immediate aftermath of Alexander’s expedition.49 Cosmas’ text is, perhaps, most comparable with the Puranic texts in terms of audience in that much of it is devoted to cosmology defined by religion. Here, one might detect audiences of the faithful, for whom those texts reinforced belief. By contrast, both Pliny’s Natural History and the Peutinger map give hints of political motives in that the power of the state is revealed by their considerable geographical extent, whether it was a text to be read (Pliny) or a map to be admired, perhaps in an apse providing a background to a Roman emperor receiving visitors (Peutinger).

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Local versus global knowledge Comparison between the Periplus and the Natural History would, on the face of it, suggest a clear distinction between local and global knowledge, where global obviously refers to the extended Mediterranean region known to Greeks and Romans as the oikoumene or orbis terrarum. However, that distinction might be meaningful only at the point of audience. It is important to point out, on the other hand, that texts, indeed, information, resembling the Periplus underlie geographical overviews, such as those of Strabo and Pliny. Furthermore, there are some hints of a hierarchy of different kinds of geographical knowledge. At the point when Strabo has described the west coast of the subcontinent in detail, he offers the following explanation for refusing to describe the east coast: ‘As for the merchants who nowadays sail from Egypt via the Nile and Arabian Gulf as far as India, few have sailed as far as the Ganges, and even these are merely private individuals and are useless with regard to accounts of the places visited’ (15.1.4 C686).50 Where local and global knowledge-systems are mediated, it is through the figure of Alexander, and in his penumbra the bematists and ambassadors, such as Megasthenes. So the writers of higher social status would lead readers to think. In practice, however, Ptolemy’s Geography is a synthesis that brings together traces of local knowledge in its quest for a systematic rather than discursive account of the inhabited world. Sea versus land How do we make sense of the relation of sea and land? Cosmas is, perhaps, the easiest to account for, since his image of the world, including India, is highly schematic, in keeping with the Hebrew scripture. The box-like shape of the universe predetermined the relation of sea and land, as it did India. In the case of the Periplus, the land is viewed from the sea, and not at all far inland – at least not explicitly. While the focus here is on sea-routes, the obvious point is that the ports (emporia) visited are parts of extended networks of communication. One such is the Palghat Gap that stretches east – west across the southern part of the peninsula, spanning Kerala and Tamil Nadu.51 The hodological aspect is true also of the Peutinger map, with its massive detail of land-routes, complete with calibrated stops. Indeed, the map reflects a curiously land-based geography, even if the landroutes depicted therein pass through ports. As we have seen, the prominence of roads may, in practice, reflect Augustus’ innovation, the cursus publicus. That hypothesis does not mean that we must take seriously every route, distance and stop marked. However, it is likely that an a priori system determined the filling in of all areas in this way. From the Periplus, and Strabo’s and Pliny’s accounts, we may indeed infer that Greeks and Romans had little knowledge of the Indian hinterland. In this light, we note that that the Indian roads marked on the Peutinger map are suspiciously close to, or parallel to, the coast.

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The texts of Pliny and Ptolemy in their different ways sketch a series of locations on the subcontinent. We may safely infer that the sources used for peninsular India were linked to sea-travellers, not unlike the Periplus author. In Ptolemy’s account, the flattened form of India, effectively eliminating the peninsula itself, is hard to explain. We can at least hypothesize that this miscalculation comes from the technology and the routes of seafaring. By the same token, Sri Lanka is hugely overestimated. Information available to Ptolemy must have involved a slow, cumbersome journey around Sri Lanka and short one around the subcontinent. The individual experiences that went, almost invisibly, into the making of Ptolemy’s map focused on seatravel, and it follows that it is in the sea-journeys that we should expect to find the reasons for these twin features: the flattening of the peninsula and the enlargement of Sri Lanka. Tradition and its discontents The term ‘tradition’ is much used in cartographic studies, including this chapter. A cornerstone and admirable intellectual history of this discipline, from the Renaissance to the present, is found in David Livingstone’s The Geographical Tradition: Episodes in the History of a Contested Enterprise (1992).52 In light of the material discussed here, is it a meaningful category; and, if so, in what ways? A fine-grained use of the concept might focus on Western medieval maps that have some connection to the account of Pliny the Elder. Ptolemy’s account was destined to have a more complex reception history beyond the Greek world, particularly Islam. What we have seen here are particularly disparate sets of evidence, even within the five sightings alone. In itself, this resists any attempt towards a grand narrative that would take us beyond ignorance and superstition to enlightenment. Cosmas Indicopleustes is eccentric in many ways, yet his debt to earlier Greek writers, such as Ephorus from the 4th century BCE on the one hand and the Hebrew scriptures on the other hand, calls for some sort of diachronic analysis.53 Even or especially in the case of such an individual author, contextual readings are required. Tradition or linear progress might seem like a straw man in 2014, but that straw man has breathed a new life in the digital age: digital maps, such as MapQuest and Google Earth, have become so naturalised that it is easy to overlook what choices underlie them, what they are not. Nonetheless, the term ‘tradition’ can still be used provided it is divested of a sense of being hermetically sealed, of being monolithic. That is demonstrably not the case when information of this kind is a product of labile memory and vastly different kinds of cross-cultural encounters. Wilford’s example is a telling lesson in this regard. What is a map? As we have seen, the relation between word and text is far from straightforward, partly because the five sightings presented in this chapter constitute a

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troublingly unequal group. In sum, we cannot escape a question that seems distressingly obvious, but nonetheless receives prominence in the major new synthesis by Christian Jacob, ambitiously titled The Sovereign Map: Theoretical Approaches to Cartography throughout History (2006).54 For ‘history’ in this context, read ‘Western history’. In the case of the ancient Mediterranean, the question of defining maps is made more acute by the lack of surviving visual evidence when we know for a fact that ancient Greek and Roman societies did, in fact, have and use maps. One more general point remains to be made about the nature of mapping, namely to suggest maps may usefully be thought of as collections. This, in a South Asian context, makes it possible for us to see local knowledge folded into an Orientalist, outside – in perspective. From this point of view, the map is not so much a photographic time-freeze, in the manner of a Google traffic map; rather, it encapsulates deep time and presents it in a way that might seem like frozen time, even if it is not really so. This is truest of the Peutinger map, which mentions both Pompeii, destroyed in 79 CE, and Constantinople, founded in the 4th century CE. Pliny’s and Ptolemy’s accounts offer rather different kinds of time-depth in their reception: that reception has differed in their relation of word-to-text, and indeed in their relative usefulness for making sense of a changing world. As collections, maps are also the objects of memory, negotiating between individual experiences and collective consciousness. In this sense, memory may be either episodic memory, focusing on specific moments of the past, or semantic memory, which operates by genre to create frameworks with which to incorporate the experiences of others.55 Alexander is, thus, an important figure, as a focal point of ancient Greek and Roman memory: in his very varied forms, even in antiquity before his even wider subsequent repertoire, he provided a figure of cross-cultural encounter and exotic experience. It is, thus, no accident that the easternmost edge of the Peutinger map, like the Periplus of the Erythraean Sea and, of course, Pliny the Elder, mentions Alexander. There is a stronger reminder in Cosmas’ account that the relation between experience and mapping is not necessarily, or perhaps not ever, a direct one; a reminder that such representations negotiate between different kinds of experiences and frameworks. To think of maps as collections is to emphasise their messy contradictions over any neat idea of scientific precision; it brings to the fore the viewer’s perspective rather than imagining the supposedly objective topographic correspondences sought out by Wilford.

Notes 1 Francis Wilford, ‘An Essay on the Sacred Isles in the West, with Other Essays Connected with That Work’, Asiatic Researches (London), 1812, 11: 152; originally published in Asiatick Researches (Calcutta), 1805, 8: 245–376; reprinted in Asiatic Researches, New Delhi: Cosmo Publications, 1979. 2 Meru is the axial mountain of the universe, standing at the centre of the earth’s central continent; on this see more later in the chapter.

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3 Nigel Leask, ‘Francis Wilford and Hindu Geography’, in A. Gilroy (ed.), Romantic Geographies: Discourses of Travel, 1775–1844, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000, pp. 204–22. 4 Phiroze Vasunia, The Classics and Colonial India, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. 5 Trautmann, Thomas R., ‘Finding India’s Place: Locational Projects of the Longue Durée,’ in Thomas R. Trautmann, The Clash of Chronologies: Ancient India in the Modern World, New Delhi: Yoda Press.2009, pp.155–88. 6 But see Joseph E. Schwartzberg, ‘South Asian Cartography’, in J. B. Harley and David Woodward (eds.), History of Cartography, vol. 2, book 1, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992, pp. 294–509. 7 Ronald B. Inden, Imagining India, Oxford: Blackwell, 1990, following Edward Said, Orientalism, New York: Vintage, 1978. 8 See, for example, Lloyd A. Brown, The Story of Maps, Boston: Little Brown, 1949. 9 On this, see David Buisseret, ‘Europeans Plot the Wider World, 1500–1750’, in Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-Modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. 10 John Noble Wilford, The Mapmakers, 2nd edn, New York: Vintage, 2000 [1981]. 11 Schwartzberg, ‘South Asian Cartography’, pp. 299–300. 12 Here I am indebted to Christopher Minkowski, ‘Where the Black Antelope Roam: Dharma and Human Geography in India’, in Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-Modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010, pp. 9–31; and Kim Plofker, ‘Humans, Demons, Gods, and Their Worlds: The Sacred and Scientific Cosmologies of India’, in Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-Modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010, pp. 32–42. Cf. Schwartzberg, ‘South Asian Cartography’. 13 If any term resisted translation, it would be dharma, combining, as it does, a wide range of notions, general and specific, of right, good, rule, duty, law (including international and natural law), order, religion, custom, and obligation. For more on this, see Wilhelm Halbfass, India and Europe: An Essay in Understanding, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988, pp. 310–14. The concept probably took shape in the last centuries BCE, in responses to changes brought about by the Buddhist king Ashoka in the 3rd century BCE (see Patrick Olivelle, Janice Leoshko and Himanshu Prabha Ray (eds.), Reimagining Aśoka: Memory and History, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2012). 14 The very term ‘geographical’ is a loaded one here, in that it implies that an ancient text can be ‘strip-mined’ for geographical data (to borrow Christopher Minkowski’s pointed language), having been intended for that purpose – an assumption that is by no means warranted. 15 Plofker, ‘Humans, Demons, Gods and Their Worlds’. 16 Schwartzberg, ‘South Asian Cartography’. 17 For example, Susan Gole, Indian Maps and Plans: From the Earliest Times to the Advent of European Surveys, New Delhi: Manohar, 1989. 18 Raaflaub and Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography, 2010. 19 Richard J. A. Talbert (ed.), The Barrington Atlas of the Greek and Roman World, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000. 20 D. C. Sircar, Studies in the Geography of Ancient and Medieval India, 2nd edn, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1971. 21 J. W. McCrindle, Ancient India as Described by Ptolemy, London: Truber, 1885; Alfred Stückelberger and Gerd Graßhoff (eds.), Klaudios Ptolemaios, Handbuch der Geographie, 2 vols., Basel: Schwabe, 2006. As with his other translations,

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26 27 28 29 30

31 32

33 34

35 36

37 38 39

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this work by McCrindle needs to be used with caution, given that the next of Ptolemy’s Geography has been extensively revised by Stückelberger, Graßhoff and their colleagues. James Rennell, Memoir of a Map of Hindoostan or the Mogul Empire, London: Nicol and Richardson, 1788. Christian Lassen, Indische Alterthumskunde, 4 vols., Bonn: Koenig, 1847–62. Stefan Faller, ‘The World According to Cosmas Indicopleustes: Concepts and Illustrations of an Alexandrian Merchant and Monk’, Transcultural Studies, 2011, 1, http://archiv.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/ojs/index.php/transcultural/article/view/ 6127/2962 (accessed on 13 June 2014). Something of an exception is Laura Hostetler, ‘Contending Cartographic Claims? The Qing Empire in Manchu, Chinese and European Maps’, in James Akerman (ed.), The Imperial Map: Cartography and the Mastery of Empire, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009, pp. 93–132. Lionel Casson, The Periplus Maris Erythraei, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989, p. 75. Steven E. Sidebotham, Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2011; Roberta Tomber, Indo-Roman Trade: From Pots to Pepper, London: Duckworth, 2008. Periplus literally means ‘circumnavigation, sailing around’; for further discussion, see Daniela Dueck, Geography in Classical Antiquity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012, pp. 6–7. Casson, The Periplus. Himanshu Prabha Ray, ‘Writings on the Maritime History of Ancient India’, in Sabyasachi Bhattacharya (ed.), Approaches to History: Essays in Indian Historiography, New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research (ICHR), 2011, pp. 27–54. Casson, The Periplus, p. 81. Himanshu Prabha Ray and D. T. Potts (eds.), Memory as History: The Legacy of Alexander in Asia, New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2007; Richard Stoneman, Alexander the Great: A Life in Legend, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010. Osmund Bopearachchi, Monnaies gréco-bactriennes et indo-grecques: Catalogue raisonné, Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale, 1991. See Richard J. A. Talbert, ‘The Roman Worldview: Beyond Recovery?’, in Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-Modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010, for important arguments against the privileging of hodological space in a Roman context, and on the contrary emphasis on provinces as conceptual units. Again, it is as well to remember, with James Akerman (Maps: Finding Our Place in the World, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), that various purposes create different kinds of maps, and consequently different kinds of geographies. Grant Parker, ‘Topographies of Taste: Indian Textiles and Mediterranean Contexts’, Ars Orientalis, 2007, 34: 19–37. His death, caused by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, marked him out as an early martyr of investigative science: where his more cautious adoptive son, Pliny the letter-writer, saw danger, he saw the opportunity to learn and rescue victims (Letters 6.16 and 6.20, in Betty Radice (trans.), The Letters of the Younger Pliny, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963, pp. 166–8, 170–3). A. H. Merrills, History and Geography in Late Antiquity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, pp. 36–8. Dueck, Geography in Classical Antiquity, pp. 99–110. Carla Sinopoli, ‘On the Edge of Empire: Form and Substance in the Satavahana Dynasty’, in Susan E. Alcock, Terence N. D’Altroy, Kathleen D. Morrison

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43 44 45 46 47 48 49

50 51

52 53 54 55

Grant Parker and Carla M. Sinopoli (eds.), Empires, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001, pp. 155–78. H. Rackham (ed.), Pliny: Natural History, vol. 2, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1961, pp. 383–5. Literally, ‘single-pace’ walkers. They may be considered predecessors of the ‘perambulators’ later used by the British: persons measuring distance with the help of a wheel on a stick (Trautmann, ‘Finding India’s Place’, p. 173). Alexander Jones, ‘Ptolemy’s Geography: Mapmaking and the Scientific Enterprise’, in Richard J. A. Talbert (ed.), Ancient Perspectives: Maps and Their Place in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and Rome, Chicago: University of Chicago, 2012, pp. 109–28. Stückelberger and Graßhoff (eds.), Klaudios Ptolemaios, vol. 1, pp. 82–5. Buisseret, ‘Europeans Plot the Wider World’. For details of the Peutinger map, see Richard J. A. Talbert, Rome’s World: The Peutinger Map Reconsidered, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Konrad Miller, Itineraria Romana: Römische Reisewege an der Hand der Tabula Peutingeriana, Stuttgart: Strecker and Schröder, 1916, p. 838. See the critical edition, with commentary by Wanda Wolska-Conus, Cosmas Indicopleustes, Topographie Chrétienne, 3 vols., Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1968–73; cf. Faller, ‘The World According to Cosmas Indicopleustes’. Akerman, Maps. Albrecht Dihle, ‘The Conception of India in Hellenistic and Roman Literature’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society, 1964, 10: 15–23; reprinted in Antike und Orient: Gesammelte Aufsätze, Heidelberg: Winter, 1986; Grant Parker, The Making of Roman India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Horace Leonard Jones (ed.), The Geography of Strabo, vol. 7, London: Heinemann, 1930, pp. 4–5. Shinu A. Abraham, ‘Internal Capitals, External Trade: The Political and Economic Landscape of Early Historic South India’, in Grant Parker and Carla M. Sinopoli (eds.), Ancient India in Its Wider World, Ann Arbor: Center for South Asian Studies, University of Michigan, 2008, pp. 52–78. David Livingstone, The Geographical Tradition: Episodes in the History of a Contested Enterprise, Oxford: Blackwell, 1992. Wolska-Conus, Cosmas Indicopleustes. Christian Jacob, The Sovereign Map: Theoretical Approaches to Cartography Throughout History, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Parker, The Making of Roman India, p. 316, following the psychologist Endel Tulving.

Select references Abraham, Shinu A., ‘Internal Capitals, External Trade: The Political and Economic Landscape of Early Historic South India’, in Grant Parker and Carla M. Sinopoli (eds.), Ancient India in Its Wider World, Ann Arbor: Center for South Asian Studies, University of Michigan, 2008, pp. 52–78. Akerman, James, Maps: Finding Our Place in the World, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. Bopearachchi, Osmund, Monnaies gréco-bactriennes et indo-grecques: Catalogue raisonné, Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale, 1991. Brown, Lloyd A., The Story of Maps, Boston: Little Brown, 1949. Also reprinted.

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Buisseret, David, ‘Europeans Plot the Wider World, 1500–1750’, in Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. Casson, Lionel, The Periplus Maris Erythraei, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989. Clarke, Katherine, Between Geography and History: Hellenistic Constructions of the Roman World, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Dihle, Albrecht, ‘The Conception of India in Hellenistic and Roman Literature’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society, 1964, 10: 15–23; reprinted in Albrecht Dihle, Antike und Orient: Gesammelte Aufsätze, Heidelberg: Winter, 1986. Dueck, Daniela, Geography in Classical Antiquity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Faller, Stefan, ‘The World According to Cosmas Indicopleustes: Concepts and Illustrations of an Alexandrian Merchant and Monk’, Transcultural Studies, 2011, 1, http:// archiv.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/ojs/index.php/transcultural/article/view/6127/2962 (accessed on 13 June 2014). Gole, Susan, Indian Maps and Plans: From the Earliest Times to the Advent of European Surveys, New Delhi: Manohar, 1989. Halbfass, Wilhelm, India and Europe: An Essay in Understanding, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988. Harley, J. B. and David Woodward (eds.), History of Cartography, vol. 1, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Hostetler, Laura, ‘Contending Cartographic Claims? The Qing Empire in Manchu, Chinese and European Maps’, in James Akerman (ed.), The Imperial Map: Cartography and the Mastery of Empire, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009, pp. 93–132. Inden, Ronald B., Imagining India, Oxford: Blackwell, 1990. Jacob, Christian, The Sovereign Map: Theoretical Approaches to Cartography throughout History, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Jones, Alexander, ‘Ptolemy’s Geography: Mapmaking and the Scientific Enterprise’, in Richard J. A. Talbert (ed.), Ancient Perspectives: Maps and Their Place in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and Rome, Chicago: University of Chicago, 2012, pp. 109–28. Jones, Horace Leonard (ed.), The Geography of Strabo, vol. 7, London: Heinemann, 1930, pp. 4–5. Lassen, Christian, Indische Alterthumskunde, 4 vols, Bonn: Koenig, 1847–62. Leask, Nigel, ‘Francis Wilford and Hindu Geography’, in A. Gilroy (ed.), Romantic Geographies: Discourses of Travel, 1775–1844, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000, pp. 204–22. Livingstone, David, The Geographical Tradition: Episodes in the History of a Contested Enterprise, Oxford: Blackwell, 1992. McCrindle, J. W., Ancient India as Described by Ptolemy, London: Truber, 1885. Merrills, A. H., History and Geography in Late Antiquity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Miller, Konrad, Itineraria Romana: Römische Reisewege an der Hand der Tabula Peutingeriana, Stuttgart: Strecker and Schröder, 1916. Minkowski, Christopher, ‘Where the Black Antelope Roam: Dharma and Human Geography in India’, in Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography

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and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010, pp. 9–31. Olivelle, Patrick, Janice Leoshko and Himanshu Prabha Ray (eds.), Reimagining Aśoka: Memory and History, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2012. Parker, Grant, ‘Topographies of Taste: Indian Textiles and Mediterranean Contexts’, Ars Orientalis, 2007, 34: 19–37. ———, The Making of Roman India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Plofker, Kim, ‘Humans, Demons, Gods, and Their Worlds: The Sacred and Scientific Cosmologies of India’, in Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-Modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010, pp. 32–42. Raaflaub, Kurt A. and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-Modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. Rackham, H. (ed.), Pliny: Natural History, vol. 2, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1961. Radice, Betty (trans.), The Letters of the Younger Pliny, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963. Ray, Himanshu Prabha, ‘Writings on the Maritime History of Ancient India’, in Sabyasachi Bhattacharya (ed.), Approaches to History: Essays in Indian Historiography, New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research (ICHR), 2011, pp. 27–54. Ray, Himanshu Prabha and D. T. Potts (eds.), Memory as History: The Legacy of Alexander in Asia, New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2007. Rennell, James, Memoir of a Map of Hindoostan or the Mogul Empire, London: Nicol and Richardson, 1788. Said, Edward, Orientalism, New York: Vintage, 1978. Schneider, Pierre, L’Éthiopie et l’Inde: interférences et confusions aux extrémités du monde antique (VIIIe siècle avant J.C. – Vie siècle après J.C.), Rome: École française de Rome, 2004. Schwartzberg, Joseph E., ‘South Asian Cartography’, in J. B. Harley and David Woodward (eds.), History of Cartography, vol. 2, book 1, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992, pp. 294–509. Sidebotham, Steven E., Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2011. Sinopoli, Carla, ‘On the Edge of Empire: Form and Substance in the Satavahana Dynasty’, in Susan E. Alcock, Terence N. D’Altroy, Kathleen D. Morrison, and Carla M. Sinopoli (eds.), Empires, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001, pp. 155–78. Sircar, D. C., Studies in the Geography of Ancient and Medieval India, 2nd edn, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1971. Stoneman, Richard, Alexander the Great: A Life in Legend, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010. Stückelberger, Alfred and Gerd Graßhoff (eds.), Klaudios Ptolemaios, Handbuch der Geographie, 2 vols, Basel: Schwabe, 2006. Talbert, Richard J. A. (ed.), The Barrington Atlas of the Greek and Roman World, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000. ———, ‘The Roman Worldview: Beyond Recovery?’, in Kurt A. Raaflaub and Richard J. A. Talbert (eds.), Geography and Ethnography: Perceptions of the World in Pre-Modern Societies, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010.

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———, Rome’s World: The Peutinger Map Reconsidered, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Tomber, Roberta, Indo-Roman Trade: From Pots to Pepper, London: Duckworth, 2008. Trautmann, Thomas R., ‘Finding India’s Place: Locational Projects of the Longue Durée,’ in Thomas R. Trautmann, The Clash of Chronologies: Ancient India in the Modern World, New Delhi: Yoda Press, 2009, pp.155–88. Vasunia, Phiroze, The Classics and Colonial India, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Wilford, Francis, ‘An Essay on the Sacred Isles in the West, with Other Essays Connected with That Work’, Asiatic Researches (London), 1812, 11: 11–152; originally published in Asiatick Researches (Calcutta), 1805, 8: 245–376; reprinted in Asiatic Researches, New Delhi: Cosmo Publications, 1979. Wilford, John Noble, The Mapmakers, 2nd edn, New York: Vintage, 2000 [1981]. Wolska-Conus, Wanda, Cosmas Indicopleustes, Topographie Chrétienne, 3 vols, Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1968–73.

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Cartography and cultural encounter Conceptualisation of al-Hind by Arabic and Persian writers from the 9th to 11th centuries CE Noémie Verdon

This chapter intends to explore the 9th to 11th-centuries-CE Perso-Arabic writers’ understanding of the territories and populations encapsulated by the term al-Hind. It begins with highlighting the conceptual distinction between the ways of naming India in Sanskrit and other languages. Next, it presents some aspects of the historical background of Indo-Islamic contacts, in order to delve further into Persian and Arabic literature from 9th to 11th centuries CE. Further, it discusses the geographical, political and cultural conceptualisations of al-Hind in the light of different sources, with an emphasis on Bīrūnī’s work on India. It also considers the circumstances under which he described India, especially his actual field of investigation, as well as the type of society he portrayed and was likely to have encountered. Etymologically, the term al-Hind is linked to the Indus river that was originally designated by the Vedic word sindhu.1 Through different phonetic changes, the word hi(n)duš came to be used later in Old Persian. In addition to designating the river, hi(n)duš was employed to denote some eastern territories and populations, roughly corresponding to Sind.2 Later on, the Greeks, the Romans and the Arabs used the same term in its developed forms. For the first time in the extant Greek literary corpus, the inhabitants of the region of Indus basin are called indoi by the historian Hekataios of Miletus (549–476 BCE). His description of the territory inhabited by the indoi, however, excludes the Gangetic valley, the Himalayan range and the south of the subcontinent.3 The 7th-century-CE Chinese-Buddhist pilgrimmonk Xuanzang provides the next significant example of reference to India: he uses the Chinese word yin-tu which may be a derivative of hi(n)duš too.4 The territory conceived by Xuanzang through this term encompassed the subcontinent, with its north-western frontier located in northern Afghanistan.5 Later on, the terms al-Hind and alhindiyya were used by the Arabs to name respectively the territories and the populations located to the east of Indus. There is a certain etymological uniformity in the terms used in the nonIndian sources for designating the territories and populations of the subcontinent, in contrast to the Sanskrit terminology which refers to the territory of India with various expressions,6 such as bharatavarṣa,7 jambudvīpa,8 sapta

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sindhu,9 solasa mahājanapada,10 and āryāvarta.11 In comparison to these examples from Sanskrit and Pali sources, the non-Indian sources, thus, share common origins from a term that had a territorial connotation. The conception of India represented by them, however, evolved in accordance with the diverse sources and the disparate epochs wherein they were used. Thus, as I argue in this chapter, the Arabic term al-Hind itself has not held the exact same significance at all times. An investigation of its different meanings will help us understand how India was conceived as a geographical, political and cultural entity and how its borders fluctuated in the eyes of the Arabic and Persian authors from 9th to 11th centuries CE.

Historical background of Perso-Arabic accounts Before examining the different representations of al-Hind, it is relevant to outline a brief history of the relationships and exchanges between the Islamic world and India between the 9th and 11th centuries CE. Commercial exchanges by sea between the Islamic world and India had been very well established over centuries. The first significant exchanges between India and the Islamic world took place through sea routes. Thus, travellers from abroad were acquainted with the coasts of al-Hind at a very early period. This sea network continued however to be used at a later time when other important pre-existing communication lines by land were revived.12 Indeed, epigraphic evidence indicates that interactions occurred between the coastal and inland establishments during the 10th and 11th centuries CE.13 In the 10th century CE, land routes began to be used by the merchants for the purpose of trade to a greater extent than they had been in the preceding centuries. Numismatic study shows, for instance, that intra-regional trade increased in Sind from the end of 9th century CE onward.14 The overland network was constituted by some important routes, which intersected at some commercial stations and were linked to the Silk Route. Among the many branches of this network, two small sections will be focused on here: a southern route passing from Ghazna in Afghanistan to Makran coast through Baluchistan, to Sind, Gujarat and Mumbai; and a northern route passing from Ghazna to Peshawar, Lahore and Thaneshwar, opening the way to the Gangetic valley. In 712 CE, Ibn Qāsim, sent by the Umayyad Caliph based in Damascus, was the first to conquer Makran, Daybul15 and Gujarat. After following the Indus upstream, he reached Multan.16 Thus, Muslims first arrived in the territory of al-Hind by land through the south of Sind, namely the southern route. Their interest was at the time not only commercial, but they also intended to enlarge the frontiers of the Islamic sphere. After the conquests of Ibn Qāsim in the early 8th century CE, it was only in 977 CE that Sebuktigīn of Ghazna undertook raids in Sind and in the north-east of Ghazna (Kabul, region of Laghman and Peshawar). His son, Maḥmūd, continued the raids eastwards into Nandana Fort (near the Salt Range in Pakistan), Lahore

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and Kashmir.17 Thus, more than 200 years after Ibn Qāsim, the Ghaznavids invaded almost the whole of northern Pakistan. However, unlike Ibn Qāsim, Sebuktigīn and Maḥmūd turned their attention to Punjab, and from there Maḥmūd finally reached the Gangetic valley. Various factors may have been at work behind this particular interest in the area of invasion: the attraction of the fertile and prosperous Punjab region, or/and the desire to reopen the northern route leading to the Gangetic valley. A different channel seems to have been in use for each of the two waves of incursions: Ibn Qāsim used the southern route, while the Ghaznavids focused on the northern route. Thus, three communication lines, namely the sea, the southern and the northern routes, appear to have been in use differently, according to the Muslim travellers’ or rulers’ interests. This first observation will help us contextualise the sources discussed in this chapter.

Perso-Arabic literary sources on al-Hind From the 8th century CE onwards, Islamic world was flourishing. The Abbasids (750–1258 CE) particularly encouraged the development of sciences in a large variety of domains. They also were able to expand the territory of Islam, as well as to maintain relative stability in their territory. Geographical accounts, which started to emerge from this specific context, were connected to these circumstances, and largely depended upon the Abbasids.18 These geographical writings had different objectives: to describe the conquests of Muslim rulers, to provide a descriptive account of their administration, to depict the territory of Islam and its frontiers, and/or to report the ‘foreign civilisations’ customs. Amongst the many geographical accounts that were written during the period from 9th to 11th centuries CE, only few of them devoted a section to the description of al-Hind. For the present study, several works have been selected on grounds of their relative originality and exhaustiveness when dealing with al-Hind. Their chronological – cultural proximity to Bīrūnī’s account have also determined their selection in this study. In examining Bīrūnī’s account in the context of Arabic and Persian literature on al-Hind, the essay discusses texts that predate Bīrūnī’s work and date from the period between the two waves of conquests, namely those of Ibn Qāsim and Maḥmūd. These sources belong to different genres. The Šašnāma19 and the Kitāb Futūḥ. al-Buldān (The Book of the Conquest of the Countries, end of 9th century CE) by Balāḏurī20 mainly deal with political history, i.e., the conquests of Ibn Qāsim in Sind. Other texts, such as the Kitāb al-masālik al-mamālik (The Book of the Roads and the Realms, beginning of 10th century CE) by Ibn Ḵurdāḏba,21 the work of the same name by Iṣṭaḵrī (mid-10th century CE)22 and the Ṣūrat al-Arḍ (The Picture of the Earth, mid-10th century CE) by Ibn Ḥawqal,23 give an account of the routes between different provinces and cities. Ibn Ḵurdāḏba’s is the earliest extant work on descriptive geography. After him,

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the compilation of such accounts quickly developed as a common practice amongst the Arabic authors. The emergence and development of this genre of writings, i.e., on physical geography and cartography, can be approximately dated to the period between the 9th and 10th centuries CE.24 It is no coincidence that the regular inclusion of geographical data in the literature occurred more or less at the same time as the aforementioned widespread use of the network of overland routes. Yet another source relevant to this study is Mas‘ūdī’s Murūğ al-Ḏahab wa Ma‘ādin al-Ğawāhir (The Meadows of Gold and the Mines of Gems, mid-10th century CE).25 In the section on India, his work mainly provides the geographical account of different kingdoms of al-Hind. As compared to other writings, his account includes historical and cultural dimensions, which render it innovative.26 Lastly, the anonymous Persian work Ḥudūd al- ‘Ālam (The Frontiers of the World, 982–83 CE),27 which does not focus on politics, routes or history, gives a list of different cities in al-Sind28 and alHind, with concise comments regarding the populations of and the various products found in these areas. Bīrūnī composed his work on India, the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, commonly referred to as the Kitāb al-Hind, in around 1030 CE. Although positive evidence is lacking with regard to his biography, the main events of his life can be gleaned from his oeuvre.29 He spent his youth in Khwarezm in south-western Uzbekistan, from 973 CE to approximately 995 CE. He afterwards lived in Ray, today located to the south-east of Tehran, as well as in Gorgan, situated on the south-eastern corner of the Caspian Sea. Both sites lie in present-day Iran. In around 1004 CE, he returned to Khwarezm. In 1017 CE, Maḥmūd of Ghazna, attacked this region and captured Bīrūnī, who then went on to stay at the Ghaznavid court in Ghazna, i.e., between north-eastern Afghanistan and north-western Pakistan, till his death in approximately 1050 CE. It is likely that Bīrūnī accessed most of his information on al-Hind during his stay in Ghazna and his visits in north-western Pakistan. Bīrūnī’s work describes al-Hind more comprehensively than those of his predecessors, thanks to his access to the new territories conquered by the Ghaznavids, and to the languages and writings which were in use there and with which he was acquainted. An important feature of this work that distinguishes it from the previous accounts is that it is entirely devoted to al-Hind. This enabled him to describe a large variety of aspects of the society in al-Hind. This chapter, however, focuses on a particular chapter of this work, entitled ‘On various pieces of information regarding their countries, their rivers, and their seas; and on some of the distances between their kingdoms and their frontiers’.30 Devoted to a description of al-Hind’s geography, this chapter not only consists of a list of different routes and cities, but also descriptions of geographical peculiarities and some cultural or religious anecdotes.

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Geographical understanding of al-Hind Al-Hind has been regarded as comprising many locales despite being conceived of as a territorial unity.31 Before Bīrūnī, the places most described and mentioned as part of al-Hind are the present-day Sind (Makran province; cities of Brahmanabad/Mansura, Daybul and Multan) and Gujarat (Broach,32 Qāmuhul,33 Khambāya,34 and Ṣaymūr35), and to a lesser extent Maharashtra (Thāna,36 Sindān,37 and Supāra38) and Madhya Pradesh (Ujjain). Abundant information is given about the coastal areas of India (Malabar) as well. Kashmir and Kanauj are mentioned but generally not described at length. Sri Lanka figures once in the Šašnāma, but a more detailed description of it and of South-East Asian countries (Cambodia, Java) appears in Ibn Ḵurdāḏba’s work39and would become more elaborate after him. Assam was also known from the time of Ibn Ḵurdāḏba, and so were places on the eastern coast of India (Orissa, mouth of Godavari river).40 With the Ḥudūd al-‘Ālam and Mas‘ūdī’s work, South-East Asia became more familiar to the Perso-Arabic writers. Indeed, Mas‘ūdī describes relatively specific cultural facts from Sri Lanka.41 The Ḥudūd al-‘Ālam significantly innovates in including in its enumeration, for instance, some mountainous areas, perhaps around Nepal,42 as well as Lahore,43 Laghman, and Waihind.44 It lists the cities of Sind in a separate section. It should be noted that the number of regions and cities – some still unidentified – given in the Ḥudūd al-‘Ālam exceeds that provided in the previous accounts. Broadly speaking, the common point of these different accounts is that they merely deal with eastern (except the littoral), north-eastern (except Assam), and central India. Almost nothing is said about Punjab. In other words, they are chiefly familiar with the border regions of the Muslim territory and the coastal area, on the whole regions and specifically cities already acclimatised to the Muslims through their early establishment or through commercial exchanges.45 There is also some mention and description of regions, such as Kanauj, Kashmir, and Ujjain, of which the reputation was well established or/and which were relatively close to the Muslim world. This observation coincides with the fact that the southern route and the sea consisted in the main passages in use at the time, before the Ghaznavids turned their attention to the northern route. This geographical identity of al-Hind was conceived in accordance with the growth of Muslim settlements in the East, although the regions beyond them remained difficult to access. In Bīrūnī’s account, it is remarkable that most routes started from Kanauj which is described as the centre of al-Hind and whose kingdom is called maddadīša (madhyadeśa or ‘middle country’ in Sanskrit).46 This might be the reason why he made Kanauj the starting point of these itineraries. We know that he met people from Kanauj,47 who may have given him the data regarding these routes. Significantly, this shows an approach of his, different from that of the previous authors who described roads starting from their western area, mainly connected to the lower Indus valley and seaports.

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Therefore, in order to show Bīrūnī’s contribution to the growth of geographical knowledge about al-Hind, a synopsis of the routes starting with Kanauj is presented here (see Map 2.1).48 The first route passed southwards between the rivers Yamuna and Ganges, continuing towards Prayāga (modern Allahabad). From there, Bīrūnī describes a road leading to the eastern coast, via different regions and cities of al-Hind. The second route took a north-eastern direction and passed first through the town of Bārī, situated to the north-east of the Ganges, then through Ayodhya, to finally reach the country called Tilwat (Tirhut, northeast Bihar), to the east of which rose the mountains Kāmrū (Kāmarūpa, Assam). Bīrūnī mentions an additional route which passed from Kāmrū to the kingdom of Nepal and Bhoteshar. From Ayodhya, the second route bifurcated and it was also possible to go southwards in order to reach Varanasi, to the south of which lies Pāṭaliputra (Patna, Bihar) and Gaṅgāsāgara, the mouth of the Ganges in the ocean. The third route went towards the southeast on the western side of the Ganges and led to Khajuraho via the fortresses of Gwalior and Kalinjar. Subsequently, Bīrūnī refers to the kingdom of

Map 2.1 Routes Described by Bīrūnī49 Source: Prepared by the author.

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Kannakara (Kanara region),50 by way of mentioning the city of Banavāsī (in present-day Karnataka). The fourth route went towards the south-west and led to some regions which have been difficult to identify, such as Bazana,51 and which constituted a crossing point between Mathura, Ujjain and other cities situated in the Malwa district of Madhya Pradesh. He enumerates cities of Gujarat (Thāna, Anhilwāra, and Somnāth) and of Sind (Multan, Alor, and Mansura). The fifth route went in the north–north-western direction to Punjab and Kashmir. The sixth route towards the west passed through some cities of Haryana (e.g., Panipat) and led to Mandakukūr (modern Lahore), Waihind, Peshawar, Kabul, and Ghazna. He mentions another route, which did not originate in Kanauj and passed alongside the western coast of al-Hind. The coast of al-Hind began with Tīz (Makran), thence proceeded towards the south-east to Daybul, by way of the coast to the Gujarat, and finally to Sri Lanka and Rāmeshar Island.52 The aforementioned list is quite informative in that it enables one to redraw the network of routes of al-Hind in Bīrūnī’s time. Second, as compared to the previous texts, Bīrūnī’s work delineates a larger territory with many new cities or areas. His account clearly complements the previous ones, as it takes into account a zone in the centre of India, which was almost unknown before him. Bīrūnī’s expansive description of roads includes those to the north-east (Nepal), to the east (Varanasi) and the eastern coasts (mouth of the Ganges), as well as in the centre of al-Hind (Khajuraho, Gwalior, and Kalinjar), and to the north-west of Kanauj, in present-day northern Pakistani Punjab (Lahore) and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (Waihind/Hund and Peshawar). To sum up, even if Bīrūnī’s predecessors possessed a geographical consciousness of al-Hind, it remained confined to some specific regions. On the one hand, Bīrūnī offers a fuller and accurate geographical representation of al-Hind;53 on the other, instead of focusing on Sind or coastal areas, he draws readers’ attention to central zones, as well as to the Punjab area of al-Hind. His innovations as regards the geographical descriptions of al-Hind can be interpreted with the help of the historical context outlined earlier. Accordingly, three types of areas can be distinguished. The definition of these sets of areas is also instructive in order to discuss Bīrūnī’s sources of information. The first group of areas includes present-day Makran, Sind, Gujarat, most of the peninsular coastline, and, to a lesser extent, Kanauj and Ujjain. As highlighted earlier, it represents regions already known to Muslims, by way of early conquests or commercial exchanges. They had, therefore, been described long before Bīrūnī. It is necessary to recall here that positive evidence for Bīrūnī’s visits to al-Hind only concerns north-western parts of the subcontinent. He writes that he saw, or lived in, Laghman,54 Nandana Fort (Salt Range),55 Peshawar,56 Fort Giri, and Fort Lahūr57 – all located between north-eastern Afghanistan and north-western Pakistan. In the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, he also states that he calculated the latitudes of some locales in alHind.58 They are all situated in the same regions, i.e., north-eastern Afghanistan and north-western Pakistan, with the exception of Multan which lies

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in the upper Sind. On the other hand, the costal and central areas, barring Kanauj, i.e., Makran, lower Sind, Gujarat, and Ujjain, are not subject to elaborate descriptions in the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind. It appears unlikely that he himself visited them. They were, indeed, not of interest to Maḥmūd, and they were regions already known to Muslims, by way of early conquests or commercial exchanges. They had been described long before Bīrūnī and thus might have been known to him from the previous writings.59 They did not, therefore, constitute new territory to conquer, nor to depict in detail. The second set of areas includes those traversed by a network of overland routes in the north, north-east and east of al-Hind (Nepal, Varanasi, Gaṅgāsāgara, etc.) – areas that had come under less scrutiny before him and that he was able to describe to some extent but could not go himself to. In fact, a close reading of the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind suggests that many of Bīrūnī’s descriptions are based on oral information, or on written documents.60 For instance, although Kashmir and Varanasi were out of reach for him,61 he had access to books authored by people coming from these two regions.62 Other written documents were circulating between Kashmir and Bīrūnī He also communicated with people from different places of al-Hind,63 and with Brahmins and astrologers.64 With regard to the areas in the north-eastern part of al-Hind (Varanasi and Nepal), Bīrūnī mentions someone, probably a traveller, who acquainted him with their distances and itineraries, vegetation, wildlife, fauna, and culture.65 It is likely that Bīrūnī’s descriptions of other remote and areas originated similarly from other travellers’ accounts. Therefore, his account of these routes informs us about the common lines of communication frequently used by the populations of al-Hind, and indicates that he encountered travellers (among whom were probably traders), who gave him information about their network of routes, especially connecting places where he could not go. Different books, as well as other written documents, must have been carried via these routes, and possibly conveyed to Bīrūnī himself. The third set of areas chiefly includes those in northern Pakistan about which the authors writing before Bīrūnī were silent. This region was probably known to Bīrūnī from his own travels, and it is the only one which, we know with certainty, he visited. Moreover, it was a newly discovered territory, since the Ghaznavids – mainly Maḥmūd – first decisively conquered the Pakistani Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Punjab provinces. In his list of the routes, Bīrūnī describes the itinerary from Kanauj to Ghazna via Lahore, Peshawar and Kabul. It actually resembles the aforementioned northern route. This route is indeed clearly drawn up from Ghazna to Kabul, and to Peshawar. If Bīrūnī chooses to describe this itinerary and not another, it is presumably because Maḥmūd used it during, at least, some of his incursions to al-Hind. Moreover, from the writings of ‘Utbī,ı66 a secretary at Maḥmūd’s court, we learn that Maḥmūd requested Ānandapāla, one of the Hindu Śāhis kings, for permission to march through his territory to reach Multan.67 The capital of the Hindu Śāhis was, at that time, Waihind, near Peshawar. It gives

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an inkling that at that time Maḥmūd wanted to pass through the north-west of Pakistan in order to enter Multan. Ānandapāla refused, and Maḥmūd eventually attacked him. Moreover, Maḥmūd first conquered the region of Peshawar (1001 CE), situated on the northern route; then Bhatinda fort (1004 CE), probably located near Multan; then Waihind (1008 CE), and Multan (1010 CE). Later, he captured Thaneshwar (1014 CE), Kanauj (1018–19 CE), Gwalior, and Kalinjar forts (1022 CE).68 This series of conquests supports the idea that he wanted to reopen the northern route leading to central India. When Maḥmūd took Bīrūnī to his court from Khwarezm in 1017 CE, giving the latter opportunity to explore these places of al-Hind, 10 years had passed since his first raids in Pakistani Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. These provinces had thus become part of the Maḥmūd’s empire at an early date, and the Ghaznavid control over them, in most likelihood, had been relatively stabilised, in contrast to more eastern regions.69 This observation, and Maḥmūd’s interest in Pakistani Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, which are also the regions visited by Bīrūnī as well as the fact that the latter drew much information from oral informants and written documents – all concur to suggest that Bīrūnī chiefly observed Indian traditions in the third set of areas. Therefore, when the question arises as to whether Bīrūnī describes a living society, as an ethnographic work would do, it becomes apparent that this might be the case for north-eastern Afghanistan and north-western Pakistan. As for Sind, Gujarat and the rest of India, his account appears to be chiefly grounded on oral and written sources of information.

Political divisions of al-Hind The authors under review conceived al-Hind as politically divided.70 Indeed, they describe several kingdoms which they link to distinct territories. The Šašnāma considers Kashmir as separate kingdom71 and Alor72 as the capital of Sind and al-Hind.73 It also enumerates the chiefs of different cities of al-Hind (Multan, Daybul, Brahmanabad, etc.).74 Similarly, Ibn Ḵurdāḏba lists several kings of al-Hind, and Mas‘ūdī mentions different languages (of Rāṣhtrakūṭa kingdom and Maharashtra’s littoral area),75 kings (of Kashmir, Kanauj, Mansura, Multan,76 and Gujarat)77 and kingdoms (al-Sind, Kanauj, Kashmir, and Rāṣhtrakūṭa)78 – all of these imply the presence of various political zones. The Ḥudūd al-‘Ālam speaks of the kingdoms of Kanauj and Multan.79 Bīrūnī gives a relatively detailed description of two kingdoms, those of Kanauj and Kashmir, though he names other kingdoms, such as those of Nepal, Khajuraho, Mewar, Malwa, Gandhāra, and Makran.80 Thus, to these authors, it was clear that al-Hind included several political entities. However, something seems to have united these kingdoms in the eyes of these Muslim authors and thereby somehow enabled them to delineate the territory of al-Hind.

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al-Hind as beyond the cultural frontier of the Islamic world In addition to the geographical identity that was encapsulated by the term al-Hind in the eyes of the Perso-Arabic writers, it seems that cultural features constituted a unifying factor for al-Hind as well.81 Religious elements had impact on how al-Hind was conceptualised by the Muslim writers. For instance, the Šašnāma describes the encounter between Ibn Qāsim and Brahmins in Multan82 and Brahmanabad,83 and relates an incident regarding the ‘temple of Budh’,84 which was in the custody of Brahmins and which housed idols. It explains that the ‘inhabitants of the country [in the neighbourhood of Brahmanabad] were Śamaní’,85 and that ‘in the fort of Alor [considered as a kingdom of al-Hind] there was a sorceress, which in Hindī is called Joginī’.86 Balāḏurī describes the conquest of Daybul and explains that ‘Indians give in general the name of budd to anything connected with their worship or which forms the object of their veneration. So, an idol is called budd’.87 He adds that ‘[p]eople of India had returned to idolatry excepting those of Kassa’.88 Ibn Ḵurdāḏba, the first author known to have written about the social classes and tribes of India, enumerates seven castes, as well as 42 religious groups in al-Hind.89 He also says that the Brahmins were the devout men of al-Hind.90 Iṣṭaḵrī observes the prominence of the temple in Multan and of its idol.91 Even though Mas’ūdī describes Multan as a place where Muslims live, he also notices the importance of the idol of Multan for the pilgrims from al-Sind and al-Hind. He affirms that there were more than 70 religious groups in al-Hind, but does not specify them.92 According to him, a common point between most of these groups was their belief in metempsychosis and transmigration of souls.93 Thus, in contrast to other writers, for Mas’ūdī, religious practices in al-Hind did not include idolatry alone. It may be clear from the foregoing discussion that places in al-Hind – and more accurately al-Sind – such as Brahmanabad, Multan, and Daybul, were inhabited by a population whose religious practices were foreign to the Muslims. Besides, even if the sources distinguished between different types of religious groups (Brahmins, Šamanīs, Joginīs), they must have understood these groups as having a set of shared religious beliefs, including idolatry. Religious customs did, then, constitute a criterion for distinguishing people of al-Hind in these Perso-Arabic accounts.94 Furthermore, Iṣṭaḵrī and Ibn Ḥawqal remark that the language of Mansura and Multan was Arabic and Sindhī and describe the similarity in dress between the Muslims and the infidels.95 This shows that language and clothing were common to all inhabitants of Sind and that the significant distinction was religious, i.e., between the Muslims and the non-Muslims or ‘infidels’. Religious traditions, such as idolatry, metempsychosis and trans-migration, according to Ma‘sūdī, emerge as unifying elements in the Perso-Arabic accounts, in providing a geographical identity to al-Hind and in marking the people of al-Hind as distinct. The example of al-Sind and its relationship with al-Hind

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illustrate this phenomenon and highlight the process of religious acculturation96 that was taking place. Phenomena of acculturation were not new. It is to be noted that a large variety of religious and ethnic groups, such as Syrians, Persians, Berbers, and Turks, had been rapidly assimilated in the vast Arab – Muslim caliphate. Drawing attention to this process in al-Hind, the next section explores the cultural landscape of al-Hind with a special focus on its western frontier, al-Sind. First, in the Šašnāma and Balāḏurī’s account about the events taking place at the beginning of 8th century CE, the territories of al-Sind and al-Hind are more or less mixed up and al-Sind is seemingly conceived of as part of al-Hind.97 Although Balāḏurī mentions al-Sind and Sindān as places where Muslims had been in ower, he also admits that Indians recovered the control of Sindān later.98 The Šašnāma remarks that the ‘pillars of the countries of Hind and Sind are Alor and Multan’.99 In addition, al-Sind is seen as a vast zone. Balāḏurī considers Kikān,100 Multan, Daybul, Broach, and Ujjain101 as part of al-Sind. Some confusion concerning the status of al-Sind is discernible from these accounts. This confusion about al-Sind’s relation to alHind and the conception of al-Sind as including a relatively vast area can be explained by the fact that both regions were at this time regarded as having similar religious practices, i.e., idolatry. Al-Sind, however, witnessed gradual Muslim establishments at the time when the accounts were written. Beginning with Ibn Ḵurdāḏba (end of 9th century CE), there was a tendency to draw a better distinction between these two regions. Ibn Ḵurdāḏba clearly separates al-Sind from al-Hind102 and ascribes to al-Sind the area of presentday Pakistan, as also some parts of India (Kanauj, Broach, and Sindān). For Iṣṭaḵrī and Ibn Ḥawqal (mid-10th century CE), however, al-Sind corresponded mainly to the area of outhern Pakistan. For instance, Ibn Ḥawqal situates the frontier between al-Sind and al-Hind in the region of present-day Gujarat.103 Moreover, he describes the kingdom of Rāṣṭrakūṭas as ‘a land of infidels’ with cities, however, harbouring Muslims.104 For Mas‘ūdī (mid10th century CE), al-Sind constituted the western frontier of al-Hind.105 The Ḥudūd al-‘Ālam considers al-Hind different from al-Sind106 and delineates, for the first time, a defined territory for both regions.107 It also offers other information regarding the religious landscape of the region. According to this text, al-Sind was inhabited by Muslims.108 In the coastal area of Malabar, where the Rāṣṭrakūṭas were ruling, Hindus and Muslims lived together, as well as in the neighbourhood of Multan. Kanauj and its dependencies, among which was Kashmir, were occupied by the Brahmins and idolatrous people, and so were some areas in western Gujarat.109 This source, thus, indicates that the people of al-Sind, in contrast to other regions of al-Hind, had been accultured to Islam. Moreover, according to different literary sources, nine cities in southern Sind each had one mosque, while only Multan in northern Sind had one.110 The number of mosques established in lower Sind indicates that this region was acculturated to Muslim traditions to a larger extent than was the Punjab

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or the central areas of al-Hind. Therefore, al-Sind became a territory distinct from al-Hind. Gradually, when al-Sind witnessed more Muslim settlements, it culturally distinguished itself from al-Hind. This process finds expression in these accounts dealing increasingly with al-Sind as a separate geographical zone from al-Hind. However, while Buddhism had almost disappeared from al-Sind,111 Hindu or Brahmanical traditions were losing steam. In Bīrūnī’s time, i.e., at the beginning of 11th century CE, al-Sind was already a geographical and cultural zone distinct from al-Hind. First, as has been discussed, it was occupied by the Muslims and accordingly has been described in the Perso-Arabic accounts since the end of 9th century CE. Besides, Bīrūnī does not dedicate any section of the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind to al-Sind. For instance, no city of al-Sind is subject to such detailed description as cities of al-Hind, such as Thaneshwar or Somnāth, are. This suggests that, to some extent, he excluded al-Sind from al-Hind. Moreover, Maḥmūd’s lack of interest in al-Sind in terms of territorial conquest, as well as Bīrūnī’s in-depth research on other regions of al-Hind indicate that al-Sind was more than a little-known oriental frontier zone. Consequently, the frontier of alHind, which was originally conceived of in geographical terms (i.e., by reference to the Indus river) and located in al-Sind, came to be conceived of in cultural terms (i.e., by way of references to religious identity of its population) later. When the inhabitants of al-Sind progressively adopted Islamic religious traditions and customs, the frontier of al-Hind moved eastwards along with religious and cultural changes.

Socio-cultural landscape of al-Hind in Bīrūnī’s eyes The Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind presents, in a way, the culmination of descriptions of al-Hind in Perso-Arabic writings. It portrays the rituals taking place at Prayāga,112 and religious customs centred on the legend of Rāma in south India, near Sri Lanka.113 It describes a natural phenomenon in Maldives, namely the alternate emergence and disappearance of the islands in the ocean;114 the fauna of the western, eastern and southern parts of India;115 and different ethnic groups in Kashmir.116 Thanks to the inclusion of new and more accurate information about al-Hind into the Perso-Arabic literature by Bīrūnī, the knowledge of India significantly progressed. However, the kind of society that he encountered in India merits some explanation. And here, it is pertinent to recall the point discussed earlier that the cultural landscape described by Bīrūnī mostly holds true for Pakistani Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Punjab, but not for the rest of the subcontinent. The rule of Hindu Śāhi kings in Punjab is indisputable.117 First, Sebuktigīn and Maḥmūd evidently encountered these local rulers and progressively pushed them back eastwards. The Hindu Śāhis eventually took shelter in Kashmir. Second, Bīrūnī often refers to them. For instance, he reports their chronology and enumerates the kings of the dynasty. He reports an encounter between Maḥmūd and Ānandapāla and provides dates for the deaths of

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last two Hindu Śāhi kings.118 It is probable, then, that Bīrūnī describes the religious and literary traditions linked to them in the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind. Their exact religious or ethnic affiliations are, however, not known, even if Bīrūnī mentions them as Brahmins.119 Whereas, for instance, in Sind, the presence of the followers of the Pāśupata sect of Śaivism and the worshippers of sun is attested,120 in Punjab there is no indication for such religious inclinations. Archaeological and literary evidence on Punjab are, indeed, scant. However, an inscription was found in Hund/Waihind, the Hindu Śāhi capital, and dated to the reign of king Jayapāla who had been defeated by, since it bears the former’s name. It bears words of reverence to Śiva.121It is possible that the Hindu Śāhis were Śiva worshippers, as Abdur Rahman states, although the meagre archaeological data available for this region does not allow this hypothesis to be ascertained.122 The account of Bīrūnī does not help to ascertain the religious affiliations of the Hindu Śāhis. Nevertheless, throughout Bīrūnī’s discourse, some of the cultural aspects of the society he describes are perceptible. His account is necessarily dependent on his Muslim scholarly conception of the society on the one hand, and on the conception (and knowledge) of his informants on the other. His representation of India could be defined as socio-centric, because it implies the identification of the whole society as a single social group.123 According to Bīrūnī, a cleavage existed not only in the Indian society, but also in every society, between the religious behaviour of the common people and that of the nobility, or of the ignorant and the erudite.124 In his work on al-Hind, he distinguishes the learned elite believing in one unique, formless god and the ignorant masses worshipping idols. He does not show much of the characteristic ethnocentrism or exotism of Greek or other Muslim authors who exoticised lands or cultures (including al-Hind) other than their own. For him, the more important or decisive distinction was to be made between an ignorant and an erudite person, whether Hindu or Muslim, rather than between a Muslim and a Hindu, both well-educated. A pertinent question that arises here is whether this view was shaped by his own socio-cultural background or the information conveyed by his informants. While stating that different creeds divide every nation, he strongly disapproves of the idolatry of uneducated people, who, according to him, are not able to conceive or comprehend abstract ideas. Therefore, he understands (and transmits in his book) that Indian thinkers paid homage to one unique and aniconic god, exactly as did the Muslims. Consequently, Bīrūnī conceived of and emphasised on this point of identity (i.e., identity of faith in one god) between the learned Hindus and Muslims and thereby downplayed other religio-cultural differences between his society and the one he describes. On the other hand, the information on religion that he recorded was, in all probability, transmitted through a Brahmanical lens. He admits that educated Brahmins were responsible for preserving and maintaining their religion, and that he was describing, in fact, their belief.125 This declaration, perhaps, stands as a claim to the objectivity for his observations, but it surely

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indicates that his informants were primarily Brahmins. In many places of the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, the same observation is made. First, he merely mentions the Buddhist customs and states that he could not meet anyone who practised this religion,126 and therefore does not deal with Buddhist books or tradition in the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind. In contrast, he often refers to Brahmins. Not only does he report witnessing the prevalence of caste system, but he also presents the Brahmins as being at the top of the social order.127 The kind of Indian literary sources, such as the Kitāb Gīta (Bhagavadgītā), the Purāṇas, the Kitāb Sānk (a text related to the Sāṃkhya school of philosophy), and the Kitāb Pātanğal (a text related to the Pātañjala Yogaśāstra), quoted everywhere in his Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, are also indicators of the kind of informants (i.e., Brahmins) he dealt with. Lastly, he does not deal with economy or agriculture; neither does he describe politics128 or commercial activities. These omissions reveal probably as much of his own interest as that of his informants. Thus, the present analysis reveals that the Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind limits its account of the society of al-Hind to a small section, not only geographically but also culturally defined, of what would have been the society of al-Hind in Bīrūnī’s time. That Bīrūnī highlights the pre-eminence of Brahmins and the aspects of Brahmanical worldview appears as a combined outcome of his own and his Brahmin informants’ conception of the social reality.

Conclusion The knowledge of al-Hind and its conceptualisation in the Perso-Arabic writings of the 9th and 10th centuries CE was conditioned by the historical context of these sources and their authors. Three ways of accessing the subcontinent from the Islamic world appear to have been in use during the period under consideration: the sea route, a southern coastal route and a northern route. The first of these was known and followed since the beginning of the Common Era. The second one was revived at the time of Ibn Qāsim’s conquest. The third probably began to be used more regularly when the Ghaznavids reopened it. The Muslim authors of the Perso-Arabic works, including Bīrūnī, display varying degrees of familiarity with and, consequently, varying attitudes towards al-Hind over a period of time, owing to the historical development of these three different routes. The chapter, thus, highlights how different writers depended on one or the other of these routes at different points of time for sourcing information about al-Hind, and as a result communicated whatever information they could get. An important route opened up by the conquests of Maḥmūd represents, in fact, a continuous line of communication between the west of Pakistan and the Gangetic valley. The fact that Bīrūnī lived during the time when Maḥmūd followed this route in the course of his expeditions conditioned his access to information about al-Hind and, thereby, the content and nature of his account of al-Hind.

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The conceptualisation of al-Hind has been interpreted in political, geographical and cultural terms. The Muslim authors considered the people inhabiting the land of al-Hind as possessing a common culture, manifest, to their eyes, through common religious practices and beliefs. Lastly, Bīrūnī’s conception of al-Hind was also limited by his own views on the society that were, in turn, influenced by those of his informants, predominantly Brahmins. Although his account provides valuable information about a society that was perhaps controlled by a particular class during his time, it does not permit at this stage to understand exactly what specific religious traditions would have been prevalent in the regions visited by him.

Notes 1 In Sanskrit, sindhu means river or stream. 2 Roland Grubb Kent, Old Persian: Grammar, Texts, Lexicon, New Haven, CT: American Oriental Society, 1953, pp. 136–8, 145. For instance, the term was used in the inscriptions of the Persian Achaemenid ruler Darius I (c. 550–486 BCE). The inscription also indicates that the territory designated by this term was considered by Darius as a part of his empire. The term Gadāra, which probably stands for Gandhāra (north-western Pakistan), was regarded as another region of Darius’ empire (ibid.). On Gandhāra, see also Udai Prakash Arora, Greeks on India: Skylax to Aristoteles, Bareilly: Isgars, 1996, pp. 160–1. 3 Arora, Greeks on India, pp. 18–19. 4 Thomas Watters, On Yuan Chwang’s Travels in India, 629–645 A.D., New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1973 [1904–05], pp. 131ff.; Ishrat Alam, ‘Names of India in Ancient Texts and Inscriptions’, in Irfan Habib (ed.), India: Studies in the History of an Idea, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2005, p. 42. 5 Watters, On Yuan Chwang’s Travels in India, p. 140. 6 The meaning of these expressions also evolved in the course of time and in accordance with the nature of the texts wherein they were used. See Madhav M. Deshpande, Sanskrit & Prakrit: Sociolinguistic Issues, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1993, pp. 83–94. 7 This term is used for the area surrounded by the ocean in the east, south and west, and by the Himalayan range in the north, in the Vāyu Purāṇa, Viṣṇu Purāṇa and Matsya Purāṇa (Pandurang Vaman Kane, History of Dharmaśāstra: Ancient and Medieval Religious and Civil Law in India, vol. 2, part 1, Pune: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1971, p. 17), as well as in the Linga Purāṇa and Brahma Purāṇa (Nundo Lal Dey, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Medieval India, New Delhi: Low Price Publications, 1927, p. 32). 8 Jambudvīpa is one of the continents or islands separated by seas in the cosmographical map frequently presented in the Sanskrit texts. The Prākrit version of the term, jambudipa or jambudīpa, is used, for instance, in the Aśokan edicts (Eugen Hultzsch, Inscriptions of Aśoka, New Delhi: Indological Book House, 1969, pp. 166–72, 175–8). 9 Punjab, in the Ṛgveda (Alam, ‘Names of India’, p. 37). 10 Approximately northern India, in the Aṅguttara Nikāya (ibid., pp. 37–8). 11 Approximately northern India, in the Manusmṛti (ibid., p. 38). 12 Maurice Lombard, L’islam dans sa première grandeur (VIIIe-XIe siècle), Paris: Flammarion, 1971, pp. 221–34. 13 Himanshu Prabha Ray, ‘Writings on the Maritime History of Ancient India’, in Sabyasachi Bhattacharya (ed.), Approaches to History: Essays in Indian

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16

17

18 19

20 21 22 23

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Historiography, New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research (ICHR) and Primus Books, 2011, p. 35. Derryl N. Maclean, Religion and Society in Arab Sind, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1989, p. 145. Daybul was one of the important sea ports of the time, located at the mouth of Indus (see Monique Kervran, ‘Multiple Ports at the Mouth of the River Indus: Barbarike, Deb, Daybul, Lahori Bandar, Diul Sinde’, in Himanshu Prabha Ray (ed.), Archaeology of Seafaring: The Indian Ocean in the Ancient Period, New Delhi: Pragati Publications, 1999, pp. 82–9, 110–18). Balāḏurī affirms that he did not go beyond Multan, whereas the Šašnāma and Bīrūnī record that he approached the Kashmir valley (André Wink, Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, vol. 1: Early Medieval India and the Expansion of Islam, 7th–11th Centuries, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1990, p. 147). Bīrūnī states also that he penetrated the kingdom of Kanauj, of which territorial limits, however, are not certain (Edward Carl Sachau, Alberuni’s India: An Account of the Religion, Philosophy, Literature, Geography, Chronology, Astronomy, Customs, Laws and Astrology of India about AD 1030, vol. 1, New Delhi: Low Price Publications, 2003 [1888], pp. 21–2; Bīrūnī, Fī Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind min maqūla maqbūla fī al-‘aql aw marḎūla, Hyderabad: Da’irat al-Ma’arif il-Osmania Publications, 1958, p. 16). Ibn Qāsim, however, did not establish any settlements near Kashmir. Muhammad Nazim, The Life and Times of Sultān Maḥmūd of Ghazna, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1931, pp. 86–122; André Wink, Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, vol. 2: The Slave Kings and the Islamic Conquest, 11th–13th Centuries, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997, pp. 129–31. Travis Zadeh, Mapping Frontiers across Medieval Islam: Geography, Translation, and the ‘Abbāsid Empire , New York: I. B. Tauris & Co. Ltd., 2011, pp. 1–3. The Šašnāma is a Persian translation and interpretation by ‘Alī Kūfi (13th century CE) of an Arabic lost original (Imtiaz Ahmad, ‘Concept of India: Expanding Horizons in Early Medieval Arabic and Persian Writing’, in Irfan Habib (ed.), India: Studies in the History of an Idea, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2005, p. 98, n. 1; Wink, Al-Hind, vol. 1, p. 194). The date of the original is, however, not known. For translated extracts of the Šašnāma, see Sir Henry Miers Elliot and John Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians: The Muhammadan Period, vol. 1, New Delhi: Low Price Publications, 2008 [1867], pp. 131–211. Elliot and Dowson, History of India, vol. 1, pp. 113–30. Ibid., pp. 12–17; Ibn Ḵurdāḏba, Kitāb al-masālik al-mamālik; quae cum versione Gallica edidit, indicibus et glossario instruxit M. J. de Goeje, Lugduni Batavorum: E. J. Brill, 1967 [1889]. Elliot and Dowson, History of India, vol. 1, pp. 26–30; O. G. Bolshakov, ‘Eṣṭaḵrī, Abū Esḥāq.Ebrāhīm’, Encyclopædia Iranica, 1998, www.iranicaon line.org/articles/estakri-abu-eshaq-ebrahim (accessed on 21 November 2012). Elliot and Dowson, History of India, vol. 1, pp. 31–40; Anas B. Khalidov, ‘Ebn Ḥawqal, Abu’ l-Qāsem Moḥammad’, Encyclopædia Iranica, 1997, www.irani caonline.org/articles/ebn-hawqal (accessed on 21 November 2012). He also bequeathed us a map of al-Sind (see Ibn Ḥawqal’s map of al-Sind in Wink, AlHind, vol. 1, p. 177). I will not discuss here the different types of writings within the geographical accounts. For details on such writings, see André Miquel, La géographie humaine du monde musulman jusqu’au milieu du 11e siècle. Géographie et géographie humaine dans la littérature arabe: (des origines à 1015), Paris: Mouton, 1967, vol. 1, pp. 187–8, 191.

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25 Elliot and Dowson, History of India, vol. 1, pp. 18–25; Michael Cooperson, ‘Mas‘udī, Abu’l-Ḥasan ‘Ali b. Ḥosaynb. ‘Ali b. ‘Abd-Allāh Hoali’, Encyclopædia Iranica, 2011, www.iranicaonline.org/articles/masudi (accessed on 21 November 2012); ‘Al¯ Ibn Al-Ḥusayn Mas‘ūdī ı, Les prairies d’or; trad. française de Barbier de Meynard et Pavet de Courteille; revue et corr. par Charles Pellat, Paris: Société Asiatique, 1962. The translation of texts by Elliot is not free from bias, as it tends to depict Muslim rulers in India as more despotic than what they actually were (Tripta Wahi, ‘Henry Miers Elliot: A Reappraisal’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, 1990, 1: 76–7). However, since this chapter chiefly focuses on the geographical data, which have also been verified, as well as the information linked to cultural facts, this bias does not jeopardise the present study. 26 For more details regarding Mas‘ūdī’s works and contributions, see Miquel, La géographie humaine, pp. 202–12. 27 Vladimir Minorsky, The Regions of the World: A Persian Geography, 372 A.H.– 982 A.D./Ḥudūd al-‘Ālam, trans. and explained by V. Minorsky; trans. from the Russian and with additional material by Minorsky; ed. C. E. Bosworth, London: Luzac, 1970 [1937]. 28 In this chapter, the term ‘Sind’ denotes the modern province, while al-Sind specifically denotes the ancient territory meant by the Perso-Arabic authors under review. 29 A reliable biography is provided by Stewart Edward Kennedy, ‘Al-Bīrūnī’, in Charles C. Gillispie (ed.), Dictionary of Scientific Biography, vol. 2, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1970, pp. 147–58. 30 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 155–70; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 196–212. 31 Irfan Habib, ‘India: Country and Nation: An Introductory Essay’, in Irfan Habib (ed.), India: Studies in the History of an Idea, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2005, p. 6. 32 Broach is situated in coastal Gujarat, at the mouth of Narmada river. 33 Located in northern Broach district, Qāmuhul, differently transcribed, is possibly the ancient capital of Gujarat, namely Anahilwāda (or Anhilwāra), now modern Patan (Narendra Nath Bhattacharyya, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Early Medieval India, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1999 [1991], pp. 63–4; Dey, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Medieval India, pp. 6, 252). 34 Khambāya is near modern Cambay and identified as Stambhapura in Gujarat (Bhattacharyya, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Early Medieval India, p. 280; Dey, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Medieval India, pp. 194, 239). 35 Ṣaymūr was an important sea port in Broach district. 36 Thāna or Tāna is the same as Śrīsthāna in Maharashtra (Dey, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Medieval India, pp. 193, 260). 37 Sindān or Sandān was a sea port in northern Maharashtra, to the north of Thāna. 38 Supāra lies in the district of Thāna, to the north of Mumbai (Dey, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Medieval India, pp. 258–9). Iṣṭaḵrī specifies the names of cities, such as Qāmuhul, Khambāya, Ṣaymūr, Sindān, and Supāra (Elliot and Dowson, History of India, vol. 1, p. 27). 39 Ḵurdāḏba, Kitāb al-masālik al-mamālik, pp. 47–8. 40 Ibid., pp. 42–3; Minorsky, The Regions of the World, pp. 241–3. 41 Mas‘ūdī, Les prairies d’or, pp. 70–1. 42 Minorsky, The Regions of the World, pp. 90–1, 239. 43 Ibid., pp. 89–90. It is difficult to ascertain, however, to which Lahore this text refers, as there were several Lahores in the historical region corresponding to

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45 46

47 48 49

50 51 52 53 54

55 56 57 58 59

60 61 62 63 64

51

present-day Pakistan: Lahore, the capital of Punjab; Lahore near Peshawar; or small Lahore. Laghman was located in north-eastern Afghanistan, while Waihind was situated in Hund (ibid., p. 92) in present-day Pakistan. The inclusion of these regions into this account is probably due to the fact that the Ḥudūd al-‘Ālam was dedicated to a ruler from northern Afghanistan, and therefore was probably composed in this region (ibid., p. xli). See Jean Deloche, Recherches sur les routes de l’Inde au temps des mogols (Étude critique des sources), Paris: Ecole Française d’Extrême-Orient, 1968, pp. 20–3. In the time of Xuanzang, Kanauj seems to have enjoyed prosperity (Watters, On Yuan Chwang’s Travels in India, pp. 341–55). The well-known conflict in the 8th century CE between the Gurjara-Pratihāras, the Pālas and the Rāṣṭrakūṭas to capture Kanauj indicates the importance of the city (Romila Thapar, Early India: From the Origins to AD 1300, London: Penguin Books, 2003, pp. 405–7). Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 129, 347; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 165; vol. 2, p. 9. See map in Joseph E. Schwartzberg, et al., A Historical Atlas of South Asia, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1978, p. 33. The map is drawn from http://sites.asiasociety.org/gandhara/maps (accessed on 12 February 2014). I added the itineraries for the purpose of the present chapter. Other maps are available in Schwartzberg, A Historical Atlas of South Asia, p. 33, and in Deloche, Recherches, planche VII. However, simplification and update seemed necessary to me for the present chapter. Dey, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Mediaeval India, pp. 227, 239. This city was possibly situated in the area of Bharatpur in present-day Rajasthan (Bhattacharyya, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Early Medieval India, p. 89). The routes are described according to the aforementioned chapter of Kitāb alHind (Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 155–70; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 196–212). Ahmad, ‘Concept of India’, pp. 100–1. Jamil Ali, The Determination of Coordinates of Positions for the Correction of Distances between Cities: A Translation from the Arabic of al-Bīrūnī’s Kitāb Taḥdīd Nihāyāt al-Amākin li-Taṣḥīḥ Masāfāt al-Masākin, Beirut: American University of Beirut, 1967, p. 261. Ibid., p. 188. Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 285; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 338. Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 167; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 208. Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 270; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 317. He knew, for instance, Ibn Ḵurdāḏba’s work, as he refers to it in the Chronology of Ancient Nations (Edward Carl Sachau, The Chronology of Ancient Nations: An English Version of the Arabic Text of the ‘Athār-ul-bākiya’ of Albīrunī or ‘Vestiges of the Past’, London: W. H. Allen & Co., 1879, pp. 50, 234). A list of Bīrūnī’s Sanskrit sources is provided by Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. xxxix–xl. Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 16; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 22. Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 121; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 156–7. Kanauj, Multan, Somnāth, and Kashmir (Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 125, 129, 170, 347, 512; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 161, 165, 211; vol. 2, pp. 9, 208). See also Boilot, ‘L’oeuvre d’al-Beruni’, p. 200. Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 17–18, 475; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 23–4; vol. 2, p. 163.

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65 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 160; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 201–2. 66 In the beginning of the 11th century CE, he wrote the Ta’rīḵ al-Yamīnī (The History of the Yamīnī). Al-Yamīnī was another name given to the Ghaznavids. The History of the Yamīnī starts with the rule of Sebuktigīn and it is mainly political history narrating the military successes of the Ghaznavid princes. 67 Sir Henry Miers Elliot and John Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians: The Muhammadan Period, vol. 2, New Delhi: Low Price Publications 2008 [1869], p. 31. 68 Nazim, The Life and Times of Sulṭān Maḥmūd, pp. 86–122; Wink, Al-Hind, vol. 2, pp. 129–31. These authors base their statements on ‘Utbī’s Ta’rīḵ al-Yamīnī, Gardīzī’s Zayn al-Aḵbār and Bīrūnī’s taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind (c. 1030 CE) in Arabic; and Firišta’s Ta’rīḵ-Firišta (c. 1606 CE) in Persian. Other important sources of Nazim are ‘Unṣurī’s Dīwān-i- ‘Unṣurī, Bayhaqī’s Ta’rīḵ -i-Mas‘ūdī and Farruḵī’s Dīwān-i–Farruḵī in Persian; Kalhaṇa’s Rājataraṅgiṇī (c.1150 CE) in Sanskrit; and Ibn al-Athīr’s Al-Kāmil fī l- Ta’rīḵ (c. 1230 CE) in Arabic. 69 Literary sources report that the Ghaznavids ordained officials to administrate Nagarkot (Kangra Fort), Nandana, and Bhatinda. No such accounts concerning Gujarat, Thaneshwar, or Kanauj, however, exist (Nazim, The Life and Times of Sultān Maḥmūd, pp. 90, 93, 101). 70 See Wink, Al-Hind, vol. 1, p. 192. 71 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, p. 205. 72 Modern Rohri, situated on the bank of the Indus in Sind. 73 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, pp. 138–9. 74 Possibly replaced by the city Mansura, situated to the north-east of modern Hyderabad in Pakistan. 75 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, pp. 20, 24. 76 Ibid., p. 21. 77 Ibid., p. 25. 78 Ibid., p. 19; Mas‘ūdī Les prairies, pp. 68, 73. 79 Minorsky, The Regions of the World, pp. 89, 92. 80 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 155–70; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, pp. 196–212. 81 See also Ahmad, ‘Concept of India’, p. 109; Wink, Al-Hind, vol. 1, p. 5. 82 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, pp. 204–5. 83 Ibid., pp. 181–2, 185–6. 84 Ibid., p. 185. On the use of ‘budd’, see Maclean, Religion and Society in Arab Sind, pp. 1–5. 85 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, p. 190. Samanīya or šamanīya is the Arabic term that generally denotes Buddhists. 86 Ibid., p. 193. 87 Ibid., p. 120. 88 Gujarat (ibid., p. 126). Kassa or Qaṣṣah is possibly the Arabic name for Cutch in Gujarat (Bhattacharyya, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Early Medieval India, p. 257). 89 Bhattacharyya, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Early Medieval India, pp. 16–17. 90 Ḵurdāḏba, Kitāb al-masālik, p. 43. 91 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, p. 28. 92 Ibid., p. 23; Mas‘ūdī, Les prairies, p. 66. 93 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, p. 20; Mas‘ūdī, Les prairies, p. 69.

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94 It was also a manner for them, as Muslims, to distance themselves from the ‘heathen foreigners’. 95 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, pp. 29, 39. 96 This term is understood here in the sense of a cultural change resulting from an external influence, which is the arrival of Muslim communities. It is not the place here to discuss the exact process, but the reader interested in this subject may read Maclean, Religion and Society in Arab Sind. 97 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, pp. 127–9, 151, 188. 98 Ibid., p. 129. 99 Ibid., p. 188. 100 Kikān was a region in the vicinity of the Bolan Pass, in Baluchistan (Bhattacharyya, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Early Medieval India, p. 184). 101 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, pp. 116–17. 102 Ḵurdāḏba, Kitāb al-masālik, pp. 41, 116. 103 Wink, Al-Hind, vol. 1, p. 177. 104 Elliot and Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, vol. 1, p. 34. 105 Mas‘ūdī, Les prairies, p. 68. 106 Minorsky, The Regions of the World, p. 83. 107 Ibid., pp. 68–9, 86, 122. 108 Ibid., p. 122. 109 Ibid., pp. 86–92. 110 Maclean, Religion and Society in Arab Sind, p. 56. 111 Ibid., pp. 74–6. 112 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 159; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 200. 113 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 168–9; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 209–10. 114 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 169; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 211. 115 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 162–4; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 204–5. 116 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 165–7; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 206–7. Kalhaṇa, Kalhana’s Rājataraṅgiṇī or Chronicle of the Kings of Kashmir ı, ed. M. A. Stein, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1960; Abdur Rahman, The Last Two Dynasties of the Śāhis: An Analysis of Their History, Archaeology, Coinage, and Paleography, Islamabad: Centre for the Study of the Civilizations of Central Asia, Quaid-i-Azam University, 1979; Abdur Rahman, ‘EThnicity of the Hindu Shāhī’, Pakistan Historical Society, 2003, 51(3): 3–10. 117 Kalhaṇa, Kalhana’s Rājataraṅgiṇī or Chronicle of the Kings of Kashmir, ed. M. A. Stein, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1960; Abdur Rahman, The Last Two Dynasties of the Śāhis: An Analysis of Their History, Archaeology, Coinage, and Paleography, Islamabad: Centre for the Study of the Civilizations of Central Asia, Quaid-i-Azam University, 1979; Abdur Rahman, ‘EThnicity of the Hindu Shāhī’, Pakistan Historical Society, 2003, 51(3): 3–10. 118 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 350–1; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 2, p. 13. 119 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 350–1; Rahman, ‘EThnicity of the Hindu Shāhī’, p. 4; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 2, p. 13. 120 Maclean, Religion and Society in Arab Sind, pp. 14–20. 121 Rahman, The Last Two Dynasties of the Śāhis, pp. 309–18. 122 Ibid., pp. 33–4. 123 Tzvetan Todorov, Nous et les autres: la réflexion française sur la diversité humaine, Paris: Ed. du Seuil, 1992, p. 20.

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124 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 13, 18, 20, 22–3, 29–30, 47–8, 85, 93, 148–9, 221; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 18, 24, 27, 31–2, 39, 63, 112–13, 122, 187–8, 265. 125 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 29–30; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 39. 126 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, p. 206; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, p. 249. 127 Bīrūnī, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind, pp. 75–9; Sachau, Alberuni’s India, vol. 1, pp. 99–104. 128 M. S. Khan, ‘Al-Bīrūnī and the Political History of India’, Oriens, 1976, 25/26: 86–115.

Selected references Ahmad, Imtiaz, ‘Concept of India: Expanding Horizons in Early Medieval Arabic and Persian Writing’, in Irfan Habib (ed.), India: Studies in the History of an Idea, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2005, pp. 98–109. Al-Bīrūnī, Abū Rayḥān Muḥammad Ibn Aḥmad, Fī taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind min maqūla maqbūla fī l-‘aql aw marḏula, Hyderabad: Da’irat al-Ma’arif il-Osmania Publications, 1958. Alam, Ishrat, ‘Names of India in Ancient Texts and Inscriptions’, in Irfan Habib (ed.), India: Studies in the History of an Idea, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2005, pp. 36–59. Ali, Jamil, The Determination of Coordinates of Positions for the Correction of Distances between Cities: A Translation from the Arabic of al-Bīrūnī’s Kitāb Taḥdīd Nihāyāt al-Amākin li-Taṣḥīḥ Masāfāt al-Masākin, Beirut: American University of Beirut, 1967. Arora, Udai Prakash, Greeks on India: Skylax to Aristoteles, Bareilly: Isgars, 1996. Bhattacharyya, Narendra Nath, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Early Medieval India, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1999 [1991]. Boilot, D. J., ‘L’oeuvre d’al-Beruni: Essai Bibliographique’, Medeo, 1955, 2: 161–256. Bolshakov, O. G., ‘Eṣṭaḵrī, Abū Esḥāq Ebrāhīm’, Encyclopædia Iranica, 1998, www. iranicaonline.org/articles/estakri-abu-eshaq-ebrahim (accessed on 21 November 2012). Cooperson, Michael, ‘Mas‘udi, Abu’l-H.asan ‘Ali b. Ḥosaynb. ‘Ali b. ‘Abd-Allāh Hoḏali’, Encyclopædia Iranica, 2011, www.iranicaonline.org/articles/masudi (accessed on 21 November 2012). Deloche, Jean, Recherches sur les routes de l’Inde au temps des mogols (Étude critique des sources), Paris: Ecole française d’Extrême-Orient, 1968. Deshpande, Madhav M., Sanskrit & Prakrit: Sociolinguistic Issues, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1993. Dey, Nundo Lal, The Geographical Dictionary of Ancient and Medieval India, New Delhi: Low Price Publications, 1927. Elliot, Sir Henry Miers and John Dowson, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians: The Muhammadan Period, vol. 1, New Delhi: Low Price Publications, 2008 [1867]. ———, History of India as Told by Its Own Historians: The Muhammadan Period, vol. 2, New Delhi: Low Price Publications, 2008 [1869]. Habib, Irfan, ‘India: Country and Nation: An Introductory Essay’, in Irfan Habib (ed.), India: Studies in the History of an Idea, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2005, pp. 1–18. Hultzsch, Eugen, Inscriptions of Asoka, New Delhi: Indological Book House, 1969.

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Kalhaṇa, Kalhaṇa’s Rājataranginī or Chronicle of the Kings of Kashmir, ed. M. A. Stein, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1960. Kane, Pandurang Vaman, History of Dharmaśāstra: Ancient and Medieval Religious and Civil Law in India, vol. 2, part 1, Pune: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1971. Kennedy, Stewart Edward, ‘Al-Bīrūnī’, in Charles C. Gillispie (ed.), Dictionary of Scientific Biography, vol. 2, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1970, pp. 147–58. Kent, Roland Grubb, Old Persian: Grammar, Texts, Lexicon, New Haven, CT: American Oriental Society, 1953. Kervran, Monique, ‘Multiple Ports at the Mouth of the River Indus: Barbarike, Deb, Daybul, Lahori Bandar, Diul Sinde’, in Himanshu Prabha Ray (ed.), Archaeology of Seafaring: The Indian Ocean in the Ancient Period, New Delhi: Pragati Publications, 1999, pp. 70–153. Khalidov, Anas B., ‘Ebn Ḥawqal, Abu’ l-Qāsem Moḥammad’, Encyclopædia Iranica, 1997, www.iranicaonline.org/articles/ebn-hawqal (accessed on 21 November 2012). Khan, M. S., ‘Al-Bīrūnī and the Political History of India’, Oriens, 1976, 25/26: 86–115. Ḵurdāḏba, Ibn, Kitāb al-masālik al-mamālik; quae cum versione Gallica edidit, indicibus et glossario instruxit M. J. de Goeje, Lugduni Batavorum: E. J. Brill, 1967 [1889]. Lombard, Maurice, L’islam dans sa première grandeur (VIIIe–XIe siècle), Paris: Flammarion, 1971. Maclean, Derryl N., Religion and Society in Arab Sind, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1989. Mas‘ūdī, ‘Alī Ibn Al-Ḥusayn, Les prairies d’or; trad. française de Barbier de Meynard et Pavet de Courteille; revue et corr. par Charles Pellat, Paris: Société Asiatique, 1962. Minorsky, Vladimir, The Regions of the World: A Persian Geography, 372 A.H.-982 A.D./H.udūd al-‘Ālam; Transl. and Explained by V. Minorsky; Transl. from the Russian and with Additional Material by Minorsky; Ed. by C. E. Bosworth, London: Luzac, 1970 [1937]. Miquel, André, La géographie humaine du monde musulman jusqu’au milieu du 11e siècle. Géographie et géographie humaine dans la littérature arabe: (des origines à 1015), vol. 1, Paris: Mouton, 1967. Nazim, Muhammad, The Life and Times of Sultān Maḥmūd of Ghazna, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1931. Rahman, Abdur, The Last Two Dynasties of the Śāhis: An Analysis of Their History, Archaeology, Coinage, and Paleography, Islamabad: Centre for the Study of the Civilizations of Central Asia, Quaid-i-Azam University, 1979. ———, ‘Ethnicity of the Hindu Shāhī’, Pakistan Historical Society, 2003, 51(3): 3–10. Ray, Himanshu Prabha, ‘Writings on the Maritime History of Ancient India’, in Sabyasachi Bhattacharya (ed.), Approaches to History: Essays in Indian Historiography, New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research (ICHR) and Primus Books, 2011, pp. 27–54. Sachau, Edward Carl, The Chronology of Ancient Nations: An English Version of the Arabic Text of the ‘Athār-ul-bākiya’ of Albīruīnī or ‘Vestiges of the Past’, London: W. H. Allen & Co., 1879. ———, Alberuni’s India: An Account of the Religion, Philosophy, Literature, Geography, Chronology, Astronomy, Customs, Laws and Astrology of India about AD 1030, 2 vols, New Delhi: Low Price Publications, 2003 [1888]. Schwartzberg, Joseph E., et al., A Historical Atlas of South Asia, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1978. Thapar, Romila, Early India: From the Origins to AD 1300, London: Penguin Books, 2003.

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Todorov, Tzvetan, Nous et les autres: la réflexion française sur la diversité humaine, Paris: Ed. du Seuil, 1992. Wahi, Tripta, ‘Henry Miers Elliot: A Reappraisal’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, 1990, 1: 64–90. Watters, Thomas, On Yuan Chwang’s Travels in India, 629–645 A.D., New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1973 [1904–05]. Wink, André, Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, Vol. 1: Early Medieval India and the Expansion of Islam, 7th–11th Centuries, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1990. ———, Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, Vol. 2: The Slave Kings and the Islamic Conquest, 11th–13th Centuries, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997. Zadeh, Travis, Mapping Frontiers across Medieval Islam: Geography, Translation, and the ‘Abbāsid Empire, New York: I. B. Tauris & Co. Ltd., 2011.

3

Self, other and the use and appropriation of late Roman coins in peninsular India (4th–7th centuries CE) Rebecca Darley*

The movement of objects across space is one of the fundamental markers used in arguments about connectivity and globalisation in the pre-modern world.1 The use of those objects in their final destination, however, reveals the different narratives which global connections could create.2 The use and appropriation of late Roman coins in sacred space in peninsular India from the 4th to 7th centuries CE provides a fertile ground for examining the significance of high-value exotica, both for historical societies negotiating local value systems in an interconnected world, and for scholars of the past seeking to track often ephemeral movements of people and goods. In analysing the use of late Roman coins in sacred landscapes in 4th–7thcentury-CE peninsular India, this chapter addresses three major areas. First, it examines the way in which scholarship on late Roman (and Roman) coins in India and Sri Lanka has implicitly and explicitly privileged commercial narratives and economic spaces in its explanations for their presence and use in the subcontinent. Second, it reexamines from an economic perspective the spatial context in which many of these coins have been found. This examination highlights the non-economic distribution of such coins and suggests alternative interpretations for the same. Finally, it turns to the question of distribution in ‘sacred landscapes’. By focussing on both coins in the landscape and coins as spaces for micro-representation, it is possible to construct an impression of the use of coins in south India which conforms more closely to ritual than commercial patterns of use and value. Global historical enquiry not only crosses geographical expanses as they were experienced by past societies; it also crosses the often far less porous regional and disciplinary borders of the academic world. Increasingly, as the conference from which this volume derives gives clear testimony, it is an arena for historical research which generates its own global networks, of scholars and institutions representing distinct traditions and perspectives. The difficulty faced in modern scholarship as the volume of published work increases and as travel and technology facilitate greater interactions, in keeping up with one’s own chosen field, has long been recognised.3 This is compounded many times over when considering research into multiple regions.

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Trans-regional studies face not only the difficulty of information overload, but also of communication and mutual comprehension. Specialisms within the study of the human past, whether regional or disciplinary, have their own conventions, terminology, and intellectual emphasis and debate. As Helen Parkins reflected in the case of the economic history of antiquity, just as conceptions of antiquity have broadened beyond the Greek and Roman worlds, so too have the difficulties among specialists in being mutually understood.4 This is equally true of the Middle Ages. It, therefore, seems appropriate before opening this examination of numismatic evidence for 4th–7th-century-CE contact between the Mediterranean world and peninsular India to outline the key terminology used in this chapter. The period from the 4th to 7th centuries CE constitute in both south Indian and Roman history, a transitional point, between epochs often considered better known and more worthy of study. This is, perhaps, partly the reason for the coins primarily under discussion here having received comparatively little attention in contrast to Roman coins of 1st–3rd century CE, which have been the subject of quite extensive study.5 This also makes a historical and geographical introduction to the present chapter even more necessary. In the context of a global historical enquiry and one which situates itself in a period of history often marked by uncertainty over beginnings, endings, periods, and titles, this chapter begins with laying out the terms used throughout. Such outlines of imperial and regional history and periodisation may be superficial and partially redundant for some readers, but it is hoped that they will facilitate the ongoing debate and discussion and foster consistency in the study which follows.

The Roman/Byzantine/late antique Mediterranean The transition of the Roman Empire from a Latin-speaking polity centred on its capital at Rome, to a Christian, largely Greek-speaking state with its capital in Constantinople marks one of the most significant shifts in Mediterranean history.6 While the empire termed ‘Roman’ uncontestably exists in scholarship up to the 3rd century CE, and the term ‘Byzantine’ is used without much demurral from around the 9th century CE onwards, the phase of change spans almost perfectly the period, c. 300–700 CE, covered in this chapter.7 Within this period, the terminology of transition can also be felt strongly, with labels of late Roman, late antique and early Byzantine making regular appearances, often with slight differences of meaning or emphasis.8 What to call the coins under discussion or the state which produced them is, therefore, no easy decision to make. In purely numismatic terms, Byzantine coinage is often considered to have begun in 498 CE when Anastasius I reformed the Roman coinage and created a visually distinctive (though structurally not radically different) coinage from that of the later Roman Empire, and also stabilised and modified the relationship between gold and base metal coinage.9 This division

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undoubtedly means more to modern numismatists than it did to late-5thcentury-CE inhabitants of the eastern Roman Empire, for whom the reform of coinage had constituted a fairly common response to the inflationary difficulties which had beset the empire since the 3rd century CE.10 It certainly makes little sense to divide the coins which are under discussion here as historical markers of movement into two arbitrary categories of Roman (pre-498 CE) and Byzantine (post-498 CE) on the basis of this numismatic convention. Spatially, the Roman Empire at the start of this in-between period encircled the Mediterranean, east and west, controlled the routes through Egypt to the Red Sea and thence, to the Indian Ocean, and abutted the Sasanian Persian Empire in the east. It was a single political entity, though portions of it might have been administered by different emperors from different capitals. Though Rome remained the historic heart of the empire, its strategic weakness gave opportunities to other cities, including Milan, Antioch and Trier, to serve as capitals.11 In 330 CE, Constantine I officially inaugurated his new city of Constantinople on the site of the Greek settlement of Byzantium. Situated in an economically and militarily strong position between Europe and Asia, this capital increasingly became the gravitational centre of the empire and would come to define its later history.12 By the mid-6th century CE, Justinian I (527–65 CE) acceded to an empire reduced largely to its eastern domains owing to the loss of territory to barbarian groups in the west, but fought a series of campaigns to recover the lost Roman territory in Spain, Italy and North Africa. The empire continued to fluctuate in size but remained a single Roman space, now ruled unquestionably by a single emperor from Constantinople.13 Culturally, the adoption of Christianity as the official religion of the empire over the course of the 4th and 5th centuries CE generated major changes in society and material culture.14 By the 8th century CE, the rise of Islam had caused the empire to lose many of its eastern and African possessions, including access to the Red Sea. Its western provinces had also been lost, permanently. Embattled, diminished and in the process of an administrative restructuring which generated a polity unquestionably distinct from the Roman Empire, this empire nevertheless thought of itself as that empire. To itself, Byzantium was always the Roman Empire, and as under Justinian I, it was ruled by a single emperor from Constantinople.15 In scholarly terms, however, the polity which emerged from its initial wars with the first Islamic polity is commonly termed Byzantine. In this study, making a distinction between the period and body of evidence which have been most often analysed under the rubric of ‘Indo-Roman studies’, and the closely connected but later material does seem necessary. The significance and historiography of Indo-Roman studies will be examined more closely later in this chapter, but here suffice it to say that it most often refers only to the first three centuries of the Christian era. This is not a universally valid demarcation, but it is hoped that consistency and justification

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will suffice. Owing to the pre-existing, if implicit, division in the study of Mediterranean contact with ancient India in c. 300 CE the present study adopts the terms ‘Roman’ and ‘late Roman’ to refer to the periods before and after this point respectively. All other terminology follows suit, hence the late Roman Empire, the late Roman emperor, etc.

The south Indian ‘Dark Age’ In the case of south India in this period, it is necessary to divide the peninsula roughly into two parts along the southern edge of the Deccan plateau (though this rough demarcation could move dramatically with the fortunes of individual states). To the north of the peninsula, a series of kingdoms and empires, comparatively well understood from inscriptions as well as numismatic evidence and some literary sources, competed for dominance, with the Satavahana (or Andhra) and Kushana empires forming two fairly stable blocks of power for the first two-and-a-half centuries of the Christian era.16 Between them, the Western Kshatrapas (also known as the Western Satraps or Kshaharatas) from the 1st century CE carved out a position of power maintained by continued bellicosity towards their neighbours.17 Following the collapse of the Satavahana and Kushana realms, after a century of competition between smaller powers, this northern zone came to be dominated by the Gupta Empire, ushering in around 200 years of prosperity and cultural efflorescence.18 Their authority did not stretch as far south as the majority of the Satavahana imperial territories, and the Deccan came to be dominated by the Pallavas of the east coast and later by the smaller western kingdoms of the Western Gangas and the Kadambas. Throughout this period smaller, ephemeral polities existed alongside these major state structures.19 To the south of the Deccan plateau, the history of the subcontinent becomes considerably more obscure in the period from the 4th to 7th centuries CE. K. A. Nilakanta Sastri, in what remains one of the most enduring and important synthetic works on the early history of south India, referred to the period from the 3rd to 6th centuries CE in south India as a ‘dark period’.20 The notion of dark ages has become rightly unfashionable in the decades following his publication, with light being shed on many periods across multiple regions once casually cast in the shadow of better documentary sources or greater appeal to scholarship.21 Sastri’s terminology notwithstanding, it cannot be denied that far less is known about the history of southern peninsular India in this period than in the centuries before and after. The so-called Caŋkam era of south Indian history, from around 2nd century BCE to 5th century CE has been reconstructed in some detail on the basis of analysis of the Tamil works of poetry referred to as Caŋkam literature, and accompanying numismatic and archaeological evidence. This reconstruction of the Caŋkam age is not one which can lay claim to great security. The dating of the Caŋkam texts is far from a matter of agreement

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among scholars, nor is the purpose of the texts and, therefore, their level of historical integrity, versus literary creation, well understood.22 Amidst the ongoing debate over the date of the texts and their relationship to accompanying archaeological material, most analyses of the Caŋkam period in practice focuses on the period c. 200 BCE–200/300 CE, although some texts are considered to post-date this. The following two to three centuries, while sometimes considered part of the Caŋkam age are rarely the object of detailed attention. Nevertheless, whether the current picture of south Indian history in the first two or three hundred years of the Christian era is accurate or not, wandering into the following centuries of southern peninsular history remains a disconcerting experience. Sastri highlighted the rise, apparent in the literature, of a force called the Kalabhras, who are described as bringing chaos and violence, but little else is known about them.23 Some effort has been made to reclaim the Kalabhras as a force for peasant resistance to the state,24 but this survey is still hampered by the profound lack of evidence for the events or nature of Kalabhra rule. In contrast to the regional divisions postulated for the earlier period into the territories of Caŋkam monarchs (the Cheras, Pandyas, and Cholas), there is only a blank map with the fate of political institutions, cities and people alike unclear. In the 6th century CE, the Kalabhra territory was invaded and divided between the Pallava, Pandya and Chalukya kingdoms, which, in competition with various other smaller powers, dominated much of southern India until beyond the 9th century CE.25 The complexity of dynastic rule in this period, combined with a complex range of more general and sometimes overlapping period-labels, including Stone Age, proto-historical, early historical and ancient, makes navigating the literature on the subject at times extremely challenging .26 In this study, in order to avoid the entanglements of periodization when referring to specifically Indian themes, date ranges are preferred to named periods.

Roman coins in India = Roman trade with India? Moving beyond terminology, this study will now examine how Roman coins in India have been perceived in scholarship. The presence of such coins in India raises various questions. How did these coins arrive in the Indian Ocean region? What did the Mediterranean exchange for them? What was done with these coins in India? How did this 4th–7th-century-CE phase of exchange differ from the far more extensively studied 1st–3rd-century-CE Roman trade with India? In short, what was the ‘global’ system which made it possible for there to be Byzantine coins in Indian museum collections? There have been significant studies of many of these questions for the 1st–3rd-century-CE period. If one word could summarise the conclusions of this vast, at times inspiring and at times frustrating, body of scholarship it would be ‘trade’.27 This emphasis on commerce is partly a consequence of the surviving Roman sources which mention India as a source of lavish

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and costly goods. It is also, perhaps, a product of the fact that so many early scholars of Indo-Roman trade were educated in the context of the British Empire with its emphatic association of commerce and imperial power.28 As such, the identification of Roman coins in India naturally confirmed pre-existing assumptions derived from Roman written sources, such as the account of Pliny that Roman trade with India had played a significant economic role and contributed to Rome’s commercial dominance of the ancient world.29 The interpretation of Roman coins in India as traders’ treasure by now has a long history, as is apparent from a brief chronological survey of literature on the subject. In 1926, in the first major attempt to incorporate Rome’s trade with India, reconstructed with reference to literary and material evidence, into the wider economic history of the Roman Empire, M. Charlesworth noted: Pliny bewails the vast amount spent upon Eastern luxuries, and though the economical policy of Vespasian and the cutting down of extravagance may have made some difference, the commerce in cotton and industrial goods went on strongly. In Southern India, where the pearls and spices were sold, great quantities of coins of the early emperors have been discovered.30 The scale of trade is here perceived as something which had ramifications for imperial policy. R. E. M. Wheeler, Director of the Archaeological Survey of India (1944–48) and excavator of the coastal site of Arikamedu associated with Roman trade, made, perhaps, the clearest association of IndoRoman trade with the imperial commercial context of more recent times: Indeed, it is fair to envisage Indo-European commerce of the 1st century A.D. pretty closely in terms of that of the 17th century; that is, it was based on mutual advantage, endorsed by western privilege and sufficiently regulated to ensure continuity.31 As V. Begley’s reference to the numismatic evidence makes clear, coins continue to be considered primarily, if not exclusively, as evidence for Roman trade with India: ‘Prior to the excavations at Arikamedu, the most important artefactual evidence for Roman trade with South India was the large number of Roman denarii and aurei found in “hoards” since 1775, each containing from one to several hundred coins’.32 It is not the intention here to deny Roman and late Roman coins in India any value as indicators of economic exchange. However, when the coins themselves become the focus for inquiry, rather than illustrations of classical texts, which often had their own literary agenda, it becomes less clear whether a commercial perspective is the only one which can illuminate their role and significance in subcontinental history. This is not to ignore economic imperatives in their movement. The forces that moved them across

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great distances, and in many cases, caused local artisans to produce copies of them in India, were almost certainly the forces of supply and demand and, therefore, commercial in the loosest sense. This is not only underscored by the Roman textual evidence citing a Roman desire for spices, silks and other luxury goods, and the Indian consumption of precious metal coinage. It is also a logical conclusion: the movement between the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean, just as the production of imitation Roman coins, must have been predicated upon mutual benefit. There were no mechanisms of coercion effective across such great distances in the ancient world, nor were there other known reasons, such as pilgrimage, for coins to travel as curios or personal mementos between the Mediterranean and India. Granting that coins moved to India by means of commercial networks does not, however, require that they moved in India simply as markers and facilitators of trade. It is this element of their economic identity which will be subject to further investigation here.

Economic landscapes Most interpretations of Roman coins in India have now moved away from the most explicitly commercial explanations for their use, such as that they circulated in lieu of an indigenous currency in south India, or that they were used as a local currency by settled Roman colonists.33 Nevertheless, the persistent efforts first and foremost to see networks of trade in coin finds in south India can be illustrated by the emphasis on trade in explaining the distribution of such coins.34 One mechanism by which to investigate the purely economic role of coins in peninsular India entails landscape studies. Coins within space The distribution of Roman coins up to the reign of Constantine I (306–37 CE) has been the subject of a crucial study by Paula Turner.35 Of later coins, there are fewer points to plot, partly because there are fewer coins and partly because the provenance data is extremely limited in most cases, but some clear distinctions do emerge. The pattern of distribution of later coins favours the eastern half of the peninsula more significantly and, with some important exceptions, gravitates towards the south. While Sri Lanka is not the focus of this chapter, it is worth noting that finds of copied Roman coins do not begin to mount until the late Roman period on the island either. Indeed, almost all genuine Roman coins from Sri Lanka date from the late 4th to 5th centuries CE, further supporting a general drift of Roman coins southwards over the course of the first five centuries of the Christian era.36 Determining economic function in landscape is, inherently, a difficult task, but two aspects of distribution might plausibly (though not necessarily) be taken to suggest economic activity, in the broadest sense. First,

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the coincidence of find spots and rivers may be taken as an indication that coins were moving along the main arteries of communication in the premodern landscape of south India. This is certainly not a foolproof indication of commerce. Riverine routes connected networks of every sort, from royal peregrination to pilgrimage as well as commerce. It may be a starting point, however. The second is a correlation between identified port sites and coin finds. Were coins circulating and being lost in spaces in the landscape which have been independently identified as serving commercial purposes? As Map 3.1 clearly shows, while there is some coincidence of coins especially at the cities of Karur and Madurai, both located on navigable rivers, there is also a marked incidence of finds not occurring along known routes of transportation. It is also worth noting here that the large concentration of finds in these cities is a reflection primarily of the discovery of large quantities of late Roman copper coins in the riverbeds there. While these finds are significant, they also represent a distinct pattern from the gold coinage, which make up the majority of find spots.37 Thus, factoring out these groups for a moment, the correlation between coin finds and river sites, especially for late Roman coins, seems particularly weak.

Map 3.1 Roman (rectangle) and Late Roman (circle) Coin Finds Mapped Alongside Excavated Ports (triangle) and Major Rivers in South India Source: © Rebecca Darley, 2012.

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While landward routes are even harder to determine and theorise given the lack of data for south India in this period, it is also worth noting the presence of many Roman coins along the Palghat Pass, the only major route through the Western Ghats which bisect the peninsula. This may reasonably be considered one of the most important natural routes across the subcontinent, and it is striking that late Roman coins are no more common along its length than they are along water routes.38 From the perspective of mapping trade by coin finds, the lack of apparent correlation between port sites and coins is even more striking. It should be borne in mind that locating port sites due to coastal change and their possibly ephemeral physical remains constitutes a severe difficulty, especially along the west coast of south India.39 Nonetheless, in the four cases highlighted here, which have all been the subject of some excavation, the most interesting common feature is the paucity of coin finds recovered. The circle at Mamallapuram represents 15 late Roman copper coins found on the site, representing the highest concentration of late Roman coins from any coastal site, and in at least two cases, associated directly with temple buildings.40 The Azhagankulam excavation yielded three specimens: of emperors Valentinian II (375–92 CE), Arcadius (395–408 CE) and Theodosius II (408–50 CE).41 A handful of coins have been recovered from Arikamedu, but their general scarcity has been noted by scholars.42 Again, Sri Lanka is not the focus here, but offers a valuable comparative study. It is impossible to draw positive conclusions about coin finds and port structures, since no site has conclusively yielded port structures datable to the Roman or late Roman period. But it is possible to state that in places where coin hoards have been discovered further investigation has not resulted in the discovery of port structures.43 An alternative to a purely rational economic understanding of coins in the landscape has, however, been proposed in the case of Sri Lanka, responding precisely to (among other factors) the difficulty of non-correlation between coin finds and sites showing any further commercial identity. This argument has been made at some length by Reinhold Walburg, who shows convincingly that the distribution pattern of coin hoards around the coast of Sri Lanka has some connection to ritual deposition, both from the composition and creation of the hoards and from their distribution in the landscape.44 The pattern of coin finds in Sri Lanka is radically different from that in south India. While almost all Sri Lankan examples are low-grade, local copper imitations of late Roman coins, usually discovered in hoards, often in containers, India has yielded far larger numbers of genuine late Roman coins. Copper coins tend to be found in riverbeds rather than hoards. Gold coins, which are not found in any significant number in Sri Lanka, are usually found singly or in small hoards in India and are most often datable to the late 3rd to 5th centuries CE.45

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‘Sacred landscapes’ While emphasising the different patterns of numismatic evidence from south India and Sri Lanka, both sets of coin finds share an apparently unclear relationship to ‘economic topography’. It is, therefore, worth considering Walburg’s hypothesis for the Sri Lankan finds (that they represent ritual rather than commercial activity) in relation to south Indian landscapes. What happens if the exercise attempted earlier for the economic landscape of coins in south India is repeated using what might be called ‘sacred’ landscapes? Here this represents a cautious mapping of sites with excavated Buddhist remains datable to the 4th to 7th centuries CE, since Buddhist sites in south India have been more extensively excavated and dated than any other category of contemporaneous religious site. It is not an exhaustive map, but seeks to highlight sites of great significance in the Buddhist landscape of south India. As Map 3.2 indicates, in cases where the provenance is known, the distribution pattern of late Roman coins in the landscape of south India shows some overlap with sites of Buddhist significance. This is again, not conclusive, and rests on less evidence than would be idea owing in part to the great difficulty

Map 3.2 Roman (rectangle) and Late Roman (circle) Coin Finds Mapped Alongside Excavated Ports (triangle), Major Rivers and Significant Buddhist Sites (star) in South India Source: © Rebecca Darley, 2012.

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in identifying the find spots of many coins. The large groupings of copper coins around Karur and Madurai must, once again, be flagged as anomalous. These two sites, representing as they do a confluence of river routes, probable urban centres in the period under study, sacred sites of various traditions, and high concentrations of late Roman copper coins, must be regarded as unique. Nevertheless, it does seem that late Roman coins have a closer relationship to sacred sites in the landscape than Roman coins of the first three centuries of the Christian era.46 This argument remains a tentative one, owing to the small amount of evidence. Close analysis of the coins themselves, however, tends to support this interpretation. Focusing in from the landscape to the microcosm, the evidence from south India suggests the construction of late Roman coins into sacred space in extremely tangible ways. Coins as spaces for representation Coins may not only be mapped onto landscapes in order to explore their importance in south Indian society. It is also possible to see ritual mapped onto the coins. The most noticeable feature of late Roman gold coin finds in India is the enormously high incidence of piercings.47 Distinctive doublepiercings (see Figure 3.1), always emphasising the imperial portrait on the obverse, may have enabled coins to be hung on a chain, but the double holes may also have been used to facilitate attaching the coins to fabric. These, then, were not circulating as coins, but functioned as adornment. This is exclusively a feature of gold rather than copper coins and occurs more commonly on late Roman than on earlier Roman coins. Earlier examples also show a far higher incidence of single holes for suspension, or the creation of an attached loop or frame and loop for the suspension of coins.48 It is not necessary to push the argument too far that coins worn for decoration or used in ritual contexts were divested of any economic value: the fuzzy distinction between economic, ritual and social in the Middle Ages may be one of the most interesting trans-regional commonalities of the

Figure 3.1 A Probable Imitation of a Solidus of Anastasius I (r. 491–518) with Visible Double Piercing Emphasising the Imperial Bust and Pierced from Obverse to Reverse, from the Akki Alur Hoard Source: © Rebecca Darley, 2010.

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period. Ostentation in ritual contexts undoubtedly functioned as an assertion of economic and social status, yet the continued use of coins in India, especially in marriage contexts, and the presence of coins in large quantities in temple treasuries certainly strengthens the argument that the public consideration at play was ritual, even if ritual in many cases mediated economic exchange.49 A second feature worthy of notice carries less weight because it is an undated phenomenon which may reflect significantly later usage. It is worth noting, however, that many late Roman coins found in south India bear distinctive red marks on them, which may be the remains of puja dust from use in Hindu ritual contexts. No tests on this substance have been published to confirm whether the content of these marks conforms to ingredients used in puja dust.50 Such ethereal traces of past use, like ephemeral structures of docks and wharves on the costal landscape of India, provide clues difficult to contextualise but tantalising when arrayed against more secure evidence. In this case, mapping the late Roman coins found in south India and Sri Lanka against the backdrop of topographical features, sacral environments, and the dynamic, trans-regional space provided by the coins themselves begins to paint a picture of objects defined for use less by economic imperative than by the mental and physical geography of ritual. The significance of coins in this ritual landscape is almost certainly connected to wealth and the public evergetism which constituted elite behaviour in south India in this period, as evidenced by epigraphic data dealing with lavish bequests to monasteries and shrines.51 Why foreign coins should have acquired such importance in this public behaviour, however, is less clear.

Conclusion Coins are one of the most powerful archaeological traces of past movements of objects precisely because they are portable and durable: they cross space often without being transformed or annihilated by it, in the way that people or organic products may be. People may assimilate into existing cultures or syncretise them in ways which make individual migrations archaeologically misleading or invisible. Organic products, especially before the advent of sophisticated archaeobotanical investigation in only very recent studies, are usually destroyed by the passage of time, leaving no tangible trace of their passing.51 Coins, by contrast, may be marked and modified by travel (as in the case of piercings on late Roman coins in India), but they remain for the most part recognisable. The extent to which coins might be melted for bullion must not be forgotten and certainly has contributed to the loss of numismatic evidence throughout history. It remains to be observed, though, that coins move with a freedom and resilience true of very few other readily identifiable artefacts of the ancient and early medieval periods. Yet, coins are inherently spatial artefacts. They are designated by a community as having currency and defined in their utility as a medium of exchange

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by their geographical limits. A coin is only currency within the region of its issuing authority. Beyond those limits coins, nevertheless, usually retain spatial specificity: they can be traced to their source more effectively than many other artefacts of metal or stone which, with some exceptions, are too difficult to pinpoint to a time or place of origin. Many coins contain spatial information, such as a mint mark or the name of the area in which they were produced, or can be traced by comparison with known coin series. The possibilities for understanding movement in the pre-modern world using numismatic evidence are considerable. By seeking to place coins in a variety of landscapes, not only using them to map modern notions of trade and commerce, their evidentiary capacity increases significantly.

Notes * I would like to express my thanks by dedicating this chapter to Professor Himanshu Prabha Ray for inviting me to present a paper at the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library (NMML) workshop in December 2012; my doctoral supervisors at the University of Birmingham, Professor Leslie Brubaker and Dr Archie Dunn, for their invaluable support and critical insight; and the Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC, where I researched and produced this chapter as Junior Research Fellow. All errors, of course, remain my own. 1 M. McCormick, Origins of the European Economy: Communications and Commerce, A.D. 300–900, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001, pp. 281– 390; R. Tomber, Indo-Roman Trade: From Pots to Pepper, London: Duckworth, 2009. 2 A. L. Boozer, ‘Globalizing Mediterranean Identities: The Overlapping Spheres of Egyptian, Greek and Roman Worlds at Trimithis’, Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology, 2012, 25(2): 93–116. 3 J. R. E., ‘Too Much to Read’, Annals of Internal Medicine, 1965, 63(4): 721–3. 4 H. Parkins, ‘Time for Change? Shaping the Future of the Ancient Economy’, in H. Parkins (ed.), Trade, Traders and the Ancient City, London: Routledge, 1998, p. 13. 5 P. Berghaus, ‘Roman Coins from India and Their Imitations’, in A. K. Jha (ed.), Coinage, Trade and Economy, Nashik: Indian Institute of Research in Numismatic Studies, 1991, pp. 108–21. 6 A. Cameron, The Byzantines, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006, pp. 1–39. 7 R. Lim, ‘The Late Roman Empire’, in A. Barchiesi and W. Scheidel (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Roman Studies, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010, pp. 547–8. 8 R. T. J. Cappers, Roman Foodprints at Berenike: Archaeological Evidence of Trade and Subsistence in the Eastern Desert of Egypt, Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California, 2006. 9 P. Grierson, Byzantine Coinage, Washington, DC: Dumbaton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1999. 10 C. H. V. Sutherland, R. A. G. Carson, et al., Roman Imperial Coinage, London: Spink, 1923. 11 Lim, ‘The Late Roman Empire’, pp. 548–56. 12 N. Lenski (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. 13 M. Maas (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Justinian, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.

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14 J. Maxwell, ‘Paganism and Christianization’, in S. F. Johnson (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Late Antiquity, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012, pp. 849–75. 15 J. Haldon, Byzantium in the Seventh Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. 16 A. M. Shastri (ed.), The Age of the Satavahanas, New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 1999; B. N. Mukherjee, Kushana Studies: New Perspectives, Kolkata: Firma KLM, 2004. 17 A. M. Shastri, The Satavahanas and the Western Kshatrapas: A Historical Framework, Nagpur: Dattsons, 1998. 18 D. K. Ganguly, The Imperial Guptas and Their Times, New Delhi: Abhinav Publications, 1987. 19 T. V. Mahalingam, Inscriptions of the Pallavas, New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research (ICHR), 1988; A. B. Sheikh, History of the Western Gangas, Mysore: Prasaranga, University of Mysore, 1976; B. R. Gopal and N. S. Thatanatha (eds.), Kadambas, Their History and Culture: Seminar Papers, Mysore: Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, 1996. 20 K. A. Nilakanta Sastri, A History of South India from Prehistoric Times to the Fall of Vijayanagar, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958, p. 139. 21 The term ‘Dark Ages’, which has recently come under scrutiny, includes the ‘Greek Dark Ages’, c. 1125–700 BCE (e.g., A. Mazaraki Ainian (ed.), The “Dark Ages” Revisited, Volos: University of Thessaly Press, 2011); the scientific ‘Dark Age’ of western Europe, c. 500–1500 CE (e.g., J. Freely, Before Galileo: The Birth of Modern Science in Medieval Europe, New York: Overlook Duckworth, 2012); and the Byzantine ‘Dark Age’, c. 550–860 CE (e.g., L. Brubaker and J. Haldon, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era, c. 680–850: A History, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 22 The dating of the Caŋkam texts and their purpose ranges widely with interpretations varying from placing the texts at a significantly early date before the Christian era and asserting their absolute accuracy as insights into the social and political life of the Tamil-speaking regions of south India (e.g., A. M. Paramasivanandam, Tamilnad through the Ages, Madras: Tamil Kalai Illam,1960, pp. 11–56), to dating the texts no earlier than the 8th century CE and considering them to be works of intentionally archaising historical fiction (H. Tieken, ‘Old Tamil Caŋkam Literature and the So-Called Caṅkam Period’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review, 2003, 40(3): 247–8). In between these two positions, the most common interpretation of the texts is that they were composed and written mainly between the 2nd century BCE and the 2nd century CE, with some later texts dating to the 3rd–5th centuries. They are perceived by this middle-ground scholarship as works of fiction, nevertheless embedded in the realities of their social context, and, therefore, of value for reconstructing the social and political realities of their historical context (Tieken, ‘Old Tamil Caṅkam Literature’, p. 248, especially n.1, summarises the standard dating and historical use made of the Caŋkam texts). While some scholars acknowledge the possible breadth of the ‘middle-ground’ dating of Caŋkam literature (e.g., Himanshu Prabha Ray, ‘The Yavana Presence in Ancient India’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, 1988, 31(3): 313), many, in practice, define the Caŋkam period much more narrowly to the final centuries before the Christian era and the first two or three centuries of the Christian era, and then use the literature as evidence for that period accordingly (e.g., R. Krishnamurthy, Sangam Age Tamil Coins, Madras: Garnet Publications, 1997, Chapter 1; S. Suresh, Symbols of Trade: Roman and Pseudo-Roman Objects Found in India, New Delhi: Manohar, 2004, p. 23). This unclear dating of the Caŋkam age becomes more problematic when material culture, such as coin series, come to bear the attribution Caŋkam to denote

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35 36 37 38 39

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their social context and date (e.g., R. Krishnamurthy and S. Wiekramasinghe, ‘Sangam Age Pandya and Chola Coins from National Museum, Colombo’, Studies in South Indian Coins, 2005, 15: 43–52; P. Shanmugam, ‘Sangam Pandya Coins in Sri Lanka’, Journal of the Numismatic Society of India, 2004, 66: 36–42; P. Shanmugam, ‘Two Inscribed Coins of the Sangam Age Cheras’, Studies in South Indian Coins, 2005, 15: 53–7; T. Sundararaj, ‘A Fresh Look at Symbols on the Sangam Age Tamil Coins’, Studies in South Indian Coins, 2006, 16: 121–5). Sastri, A History of South India, p. 3. R. S. Sharma, ‘Problems of Peasant Protest in Early Medieval India’, Social Scientist, 1988, 16(19): 3–16. D. P. Dikshit, Political History of the Chalukyas of Badami, New Delhi: Abhinav Publications, 1980; K. A. Nilakanta Sastri, The Pandyan Kingdom: From the Earliest Times to the Sixteenth Century, Madras: Swathi Publications, 1972. K. D. Morrison, ‘Commerce and Culture in South Asia: Perspectives from Archaeology and History’, Annual Review of Anthropology, 1997, 26: 93. V. Begley, ‘Arikamedu Reconsidered’, American Journal of Archaeology, 1983, 87(4): 461–81; M. Charlesworth, Trade Routes and Commerce of the Roman Empire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1926; R. Sewell, ‘Roman Coins Found in India’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1904, 23: 591–637; Tomber, Indo-Roman Trade; E. H. Warmington, Commerce between the Roman Empire and India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1928; R. E. M. Wheeler, A. Ghosh and Krishna Deva, ‘Arikamedu: An Indo-Roman Trading Station on the East Coast of India’, Ancient India, 1946, 2: 17–124. D. K. Chakrabarti, ‘The Development of Archaeology in the Indian Subcontinent’, World Archaeology, 1982, 13(3): 328–37. Natural History 9.1.101, in H. Rackham, Pliny: Natural History, vol. 2, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1942, pp. 416–17. Charlesworth, Trade Routes and Commerce, p. 61. R. E. M. Wheeler, Rome beyond the Imperial Frontiers, London: G. Bell and Sons Ltd., 1954, p. 125. Begley, ‘Arikamedu Reconsidered’, p. 479. For the argument on the use of Roman coins in lieu of an indigenous currency, see P. L. Gupta, ‘Coins in Rome’s Indian Trade’, in A. K. Jha (ed.), Coins, Trade and Economy, Nashik: Indian Institute of Research in Numismatic Studies, 1991, p. 125; A. M. Shastri, ‘Early Tamil Economy and Currency System’, Numismatic Studies, 1992, 2: 133–4; S. Suresh, ‘Symbols of an Ancient Sea Trade’, Minerva, 2011, 22(5): 23. For the argument on the use of Roman coins by Roman colonists, see Sewell, ‘Roman Coins Found in India’, pp. 609–15. S. P. Kandaswamy, ‘The Kongu and the Roman Coins’, Journal of the Numismatic Society of India, 1984, 46: 39–44; Himanshu Prabha Ray, ‘Early Coastal Trade in the Bay of Bengal’, in J. Reade (ed.), The Indian Ocean in Antiquity, London: Kegan Paul International, 1996, p. 355; R. Sewell, Lists of the Antiquarian Remains in the Presidency of Madras, Madras: Government Press, 1881, p. 214; Suresh, ‘Symbols of an Ancient Sea Trade’, p. 24. P. Turner, Roman Coins from India, London: Royal Numismatic Society, 1989. R. Walburg, Coins and Tokens from Ancient Ceylon, Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag, 2008, p. 84. R. Krishnamurthy, Late Roman Copper Coins from South India: Karur, Madurai and Tirukkoilur, Chennai: Garnet Publishers, 2007. Kandaswamy, ‘The Kongu and the Roman Coins’, p. 41. V. Selvakumar, P. K. Shajan and R. Tomber, ‘Archaeological Investigations at Pattanam, Kerala: New Evidence for the Location of Ancient Muziris’, in R. Tomber, L. Blue and A. S. Abraham (eds.), Migration, Trade and Peoples, part 1:

72

40 41 42

43 44 45 46

47 48

49 50

51

Rebecca Darley Indian Ocean Commerce and the Archaeology of Western India, London: The British Association for South Asian Studies, 2009, pp. 31–2. S. Badhreenath, ‘Mamallapuram: The Port of the Pallavas’, paper presented at the Centre for Archaeological Studies and Training, Eastern India, Kolkata, 24 February 2011; Walburg, Coins and Tokens, p. 269. T. S. Sridhar, ‘Ancient Ports and Maritime Trade Centres in Tamilnadu and Their Significance’, paper presented at the Society of Marine Archaeology, National Institute of Oceanography, Panaji, Goa, 6 October 2005, p. 10. P. Berghaus, ‘Three Denarii of Tiberius from Arikamedu’, in D. W. MacDowall, S. Sharma and S. Garg (eds.), Indian Numismatics, History, Art and Culture: Essays in Honour of Parmeshwari Lal Gupta, vol. 1, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1992, pp. 95–8; Begley, ‘Arikamedu Reconsidered’, p. 479. J. Carswell, ‘The Excavation at Mantai’, in J. Reade (ed.), The Indian Ocean in Antiquity, London: Kegan Paul International, 1996, pp. 501–15. Walburg, Coins and Tokens, pp. 42–108. Ibid., p. 84. The association of Roman coins with Satavahana sites in the western Deccan, demonstrated by Himanshu Prabha Ray (Monastery and Guild: Commerce under the Satavahanas, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1989, p. 141), indicates that an increasing emphasis on the ritual use of Roman coins may have had antecedents in the first three centuries of the Christian era. Berghaus, ‘Roman Coins from India’, p. 111. M. Alram (‘Coinage, Prestige and Identity: From Rome to Persepolis and China’, in S. Bhandare and S. Garg (eds.), Felicitas: Essays in Numismatics, Epigraphy and History in Honour of Joe Cribb, Mumbai: Reesha Books International, 2011, pp. 46–7) provides excellent images of Roman or imitation Roman coins from the Kushan Empire looped for suspension. The Akki Alur hoard highlights the difference in treatment between the 3 Roman coins in the hoard (probably of the Severan dynasty), 2 of which are looped for suspension, and the late Roman examples, of which 22 are double-pierced (R. Day, ‘A Tale of “Four” Hoards [or Unpicking Akki Alur]’, Journal of the Oriental Numismatic Society, 2011, 211: 7). J. Halpern, ‘The Secret of the Temple: The Discovery of Treasure Worth Billions of Dollars Shakes Southern India’, The New Yorker, 30 April 2012, pp. 48–9. I am grateful to Dr Robert Bracey of the Department of Coins and Medals, British Museum, for pointing out this possible origin of red residue frequently found on Roman and late Roman coins found in India (personal communication, 2010). F. De Romanis, ‘Aurei after the Trade: Western Taxes and Eastern Gifts’, in F. De Romanis and S. Sorda (eds.), Dal Denarius al Dinar: l’oriente e la moneta Romana, Rome: Instituto Italiano di numismatica, 2006, pp. 69–73.

Select references Alram, M., ‘Coinage, Prestige and Identity: From Rome to Persepolis and China’, in S. Bhandare and S. Garg (eds.), Felicitas: Essays in Numismatics, Epigraphy and History in Honour of Joe Cribb, Mumbai: Reesha Books International, 2011, pp. 35–51. Badhreenath, S., ‘Mamallapuram: The Port of the Pallavas’, paper presented at the Centre for Archaeological Studies and Training, Eastern India, Kolkata, 24 February 2011. Begley, V., ‘Arikamedu Reconsidered’, American Journal of Archaeology, 1983, 87(4): 461–81.

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Berghaus, P., ‘Roman Coins from India and Their Imitations’, in A. K. Jha (ed.), Coinage, Trade and Economy, Nashik: Indian Institute of Research in Numismatic Studies, 1991, pp. 108–21. ———, ‘Three Denarii of Tiberius from Arikamedu’, in D. W. MacDowall, S. Sharma, and S. Garg (eds.), Indian Numismatics, History, Art and Culture: Essays in Honour of Parmeshwari Lal Gupta, vol. 1, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1992, pp. 95–8. Boozer, A. L., ‘Globalizing Mediterranean Identities: The Overlapping Spheres of Egyptian, Greek and Roman Worlds at Trimithis’, Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology, 2012, 25(2): 93–116. Brubaker, L. and J. Haldon, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era, c. 680–850: A History, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Cameron, A., The Byzantines, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006. Cappers, R. T. J., Roman Foodprints at Berenike: Archaeological Evidence of Trade and Subsistence in the Eastern Desert of Egypt, Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California, 2006. Carswell, J., ‘The Excavation at Mantai’, in J. Reade (ed.), The Indian Ocean in Antiquity, London: Kegan Paul International, 1996, pp. 501–15. Chakrabarti, D. K., ‘The Development of Archaeology in the Indian Subcontinent’, World Archaeology, 1982, 13(3): 324–44. Charlesworth, M., Trade Routes and Commerce of the Roman Empire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1926. Day, R., ‘A Tale of “Four” Hoards (or Unpicking Akki Alur)’, Journal of the Oriental Numismatic Society, 2011, 211: 5–14. De Romanis, F., ‘Aurei after the Trade: Western Taxes and Eastern Gifts’, in F. De Romanis and S. Sorda (eds.), Dal Denarius al Dinar: l’oriente e la moneta Romana, Rome: Instituto Italiano di numismatica, 2006, pp. 55–82. Dikshit, D. P., Political History of the Chalukyas of Badami, New Delhi: Abhinav Publications, 1980. Freely, J., Before Galileo: The Birth of Modern Science in Medieval Europe, New York: Overlook Duckworth, 2012. Ganguly, D. K., The Imperial Guptas and Their Times, New Delhi: Abhinav Publications, 1987. Gopal, B. R. and N. S. Thatanatha (eds.), Kadambas, Their History and Culture: Seminar Papers, Mysore: Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, 1996. Grierson, P., Byzantine Coinage, Washington, DC: Dumbaton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1999. Gupta, P. L., ‘Coins in Rome’s Indian Trade’, in A. K. Jha (ed.), Coins, Trade and Economy, Nashik: Indian Institute of Research in Numismatic Studies, 1991, pp. 122–37. Haldon, J., Byzantium in the Seventh Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Halpern, J., ‘The Secret of the Temple: The Discovery of Treasure Worth Billions of Dollars Shakes Southern India’, The New Yorker, 30 April 2012, pp. 48–9. J. R. E., ‘Too Much to Read’, Annals of Internal Medicine, 1965, 63(4): 721–23. Kandaswamy, S. P., ‘The Kongu and the Roman Coins’, Journal of the Numismatic Society of India, 1984, 46: 39–44. Krishnamurthy, R., Sangam Age Tamil Coins, Madras: Garnet Publications, 1997. ———, Late Roman Copper Coins from South India: Karur, Madurai and Tirukkoilur, Chennai: Garnet Publishers, 2007.

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Krishnamurthy, R. and S. Wiekramasinghe, ‘Sangam Age Pandya and Chola Coins from National Museum, Colombo’, Studies in South Indian Coins, 2005, 15: 43–52. Lenski, N. (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Lim, R., ‘The Late Roman Empire’, in A. Barchiesi and W. Scheidel (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Roman Studies, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010, pp. 547–63. Maas, M. (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Justinian, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Mahalingam, T. V., Inscriptions of the Pallavas, New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research (ICHR), 1988. Maxwell, J., ‘Paganism and Christianization’, in S. F. Johnson (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Late Antiquity, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012, pp. 849–75. Mazaraki Ainian, A. (ed.), The “Dark Ages” Revisited, Volos: University of Thessaly Press, 2011. McCormick, M., Origins of the European Economy: Communications and Commerce, A.D. 300–900, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Morrison, K. D., ‘Commerce and Culture in South Asia: Perspectives from Archaeology and History’, Annual Review of Anthropology, 1997, 26: 87–108. Mukherjee, B. N., Kushana Studies: New Perspectives, Kolkata: Firma KLM, 2004. Paramasivanandam, A. M., Tamilnad through the Ages, Madras: Tamil Kalai Illam, 1960. Parkins, H., ‘Time for Change? Shaping the Future of the Ancient Economy’, in H. Parkins (ed.), Trade, Traders and the Ancient City, London: Routledge, 1998, pp. 1–15. Rackham, H., Pliny: Natural History, vol. 2, books 3–7, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1942. Ray, Himanshu Prabha, ‘The Yavana Presence in Ancient India’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, 1988, 31(3): 311–25. ———, Monastery and Guild: Commerce under the Satavahanas, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1989. ———, ‘Early Coastal Trade in the Bay of Bengal’, in J. Reade (ed.), The Indian Ocean in Antiquity, London: Kegan Paul International, 1996, pp. 351–64. Sastri, K. A. Nilakanta, A History of South India from Prehistoric Times to the Fall of Vijayanagar, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958. ———, The Pandyan Kingdom: From the Earliest Times to the Sixteenth Century, Madras: Swathi Publications, 1972. Schwartz, J. J., Lod (Lydda), Israel: From Its Origins through the Byzantine Period, 5600 B.C.E.-640 C.E, Oxford: British Archaeological Reports, International Series 571, 1991. Selvakumar, V., P. K. Shajan and R. Tomber, ‘Archaeological Investigations at Pattanam, Kerala: New Evidence for the Location of Ancient Muziris’, in R. Tomber, L. Blue, and A. S. Abraham (eds.), Migration, Trade and Peoples, Part 1: Indian Ocean Commerce and the Archaeology of Western India, London: The British Association for South Asian Studies, 2009, pp. 29–41. Sewell, R., Lists of the Antiquarian Remains in the Presidency of Madras, Madras: Government Press, 1881. ———, ‘Roman Coins Found in India’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1904, 23: 591–637.

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Shanmugam, P., ‘Sangam Pandya Coins in Sri Lanka’, Journal of the Numismatic Society of India, 2004, 66: 36–42. ———, ‘Two Inscribed Coins of the Sangam Age Cheras’, Studies in South Indian Coins, 2005, 15: 53–57. Sharma, R. S., ‘Problems of Peasant Protest in Early Medieval India’, Social Scientist, 1988, 16(19): 3–16. Shastri, A. M., ‘Early Tamil Economy and Currency System’, Numismatic Studies, 1992, 2: 123–38. ———, The Satavahanas and the Western Kshatrapas: A Historical Framework, Nagpur: Dattsons, 1998. ——— (ed.), The Age of the Satavahanas, New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 1999. Sheikh, A. B., History of the Western Gangas, Mysore: Prasaranga, University of Mysore, 1976. Sridhar, T. S., ‘Ancient Ports and Maritime Trade Centres in Tamilnadu and Their Significance’, paper presented at the Society of Marine Archaeology, National Institute of Oceanography, Panaji, Goa, 6 October 2005. Sundararaj, T., ‘A Fresh Look at Symbols on the Sangam Age Tamil Coins’, Studies in South Indian Coins, 2006, 16: 121–25. Suresh, S., Symbols of Trade: Roman and Pseudo-Roman Objects Found in India, New Delhi: Manohar, 2004. ———, ‘Symbols of an Ancient Sea Trade’, Minerva, 2011, 22(5): 22–4. Sutherland, C. H. V. and R. A. G. Carson, et al., Roman Imperial Coinage, London: Spink, 1923. Tieken, H., ‘Old Tamil Caṅkam Literature and the So-Called Caṅkam Period’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review, 2003, 40(3): 247–78. Tomber, R., Indo-Roman Trade: From Pots to Pepper, London: Duckworth, 2009. Turner, P., Roman Coins from India, London: Royal Numismatic Society, 1989. Walburg, R., Coins and Tokens from Ancient Ceylon, Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag, 2008. Warmington, E. H., Commerce between the Roman Empire and India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1928. Wheeler, R. E. M., Rome Beyond the Imperial Frontiers, London: G. Bell and Sons Ltd., 1954. Wheeler, R. E. M., A. Ghosh and Krishna Deva, ‘Arikamedu: An Indo-Roman Trading Station on the East Coast of India’, Ancient India, 1946, 2: 17–124.

Part 2

Defining cultural landscapes

4

Sacred spaces of the middle Ganga valley A case study of Varanasi Vidula Jayaswal

Archaeological investigations conducted in Varanasi have brought to light three major religious settlements, Varanasi (the capital city of the Kashi janpada), Sarnath and Aktha, dating from the early historical to the early medieval period (Map 4.1). Two of these, Aktha and Sarnath, are located in the Varuna valley, while the capital city expanded along the left bank of the river Ganga, from Rajghat (on the river Varuna) to Dashasamedha and, later, to the river Assi. Geomorphological studies in the region further suggest an inter-se relationship of early settlements with the water channels. Thus, the sites and the geological formations of Varanasi provide satisfactory grounds for the study of sacred spaces in the river valleys, as all the three seem to have adopted the geomorphology of the Ganga valley, but in their make-up and history they differ from each other. On the basis of archaeological deposits found in the excavations, the vast culture zone of Varanasi is divisible into two. The ancient city, which also had a religious bias, expanded along the banks of Ganga, but the other two settlements, Aktha and Sarnath that were basically religious in nature, occupied the northern axis of the valley, which was drained by Varuna and its tributary streams. Sarnath, the famous Buddhist establishment, was uncovered through excavations in the 19th century (Figure 4.1), while Aktha is a recently excavated site (2002–04, 2006) of great antiquity (18th/19th century BCE). Besides pushing back the antiquity of the human occupation in Varanasi, it was a habitat of the rishis (sages) performing Vedic sacrifices. This chapter, on archaeological study, discusses the symbiotic relationship between Ganga (along with its tributaries) and the initial occupation and expansion of the prominent ancient religious establishments of the Varanasi region. It, thus, highlights the major factors governing the make-up and growth of this sacred landscape.

The city as described in the textual traditions The glimpses of Varanasi and Sarnath, prior to the excavations, occur in early Indian literature. Kashi, another address of the Varanasi region, appears as early as the mid-second millennium BCE, in the Paippalada recension of the

Map 4.1 Location of Excavated Sites of Varanasi Source: Prepared by the author.

Figure 4.1 Exposed Structures In and Around Dharmarajika Stupa at Sarnath (1904–07) Source: Courtesy of Archaeological Survey of India.

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Later Vedic text Atharva Veda.1 Its distinct personality as a territorial unit is discernible from the nomenclature ‘Kashi’ for the janpada and ‘Varanasi’ for its capital in the early Buddhist Pali texts.2 But the true nature of the settlement of the Later Vedic and the early Buddhist times (about the last quarter of the first millennium BCE) is not clear from these descriptions. Clear mention of the religious nature of these settlements of the Varanasi region, which may be interpreted in terms of a sacred landscape, is of a much later date. The account of the Chinese pilgrim – traveller Xuanzang (7th century CE) describes ‘P’O-LO-NI-SSE’, the city of Varanasi, as inhabited by the worshippers of the god Maheshvara;3 and ‘LU-YE’, the Mrig-dava or Sarnath, situated 10 li (2.5 km) north-east of the city, as a Buddhist establishment,4 thereby indicating that these settlements continued to exist up to the early medieval period. The archaeological remains of the religious establishments of Varanasi were brought to light by Alexander Cunningham, who records his visit to Sarnath in search of the Buddhist remains, following the travel account of Xuanzang.5 This laid the foundation for intensive field-studies involving horizontal exposure of the ancient establishment at Sarnath,6 the Kashi– Rajghat (Varanasi city)7 and village sites, Kotwa, Asapur,8 Aktha,9 and Ramnagar10 in the 20th and 21st centuries. The recent archaeological findings suggest that while Varanasi was perhaps an affluent and flourishing city at the time of Xuanzang’s visit, Sarnath was headed towards decline. However, the growth of the craft villages paralleled that of Sarnath, from the Kushana to the early medieval period. The history of the emergence and growth and the nature of these settlements demarcate the ancient sacred landscape of Varanasi. The conclusions emerging from this study may serve as a model for the study of sacred landscapes in other regions and periods of history (including the medieval one). Identification of Varanasi, the ancient capital city of the Kashi janapada, in 1940 by Krishna Deva of the Archaeological Survey of India, near Kashi railway station (Long. 83° 1' 30" E and Lat. 25° 4' 30" N), started investigations of the ancient settlement on the banks of Ganga in Varanasi district. This trial excavation (Figure 4.2) was also significant for the religious history of the region, since it revealed ‘a temple hall supported on twelve pillars’.11 But the true nature of this structure could not be ascertained at that time. Subsequent excavations in the 1960s and 1970s of the 20th century, which were confined to the confluence of Varuna and Ganga, and the left bank of Varuna, enabled researchers to determine a long time bracket (from the janapada period to the medieval times) divisible into six chrono-cultural periods, viz., the janapada, the Maurya – Shunga, the Kushana – Gupta, the post-Gupta, the medieval, and the British. Though the earliest habitation in this locality was dated to c. 800–600 BCE (the janapada period), the urban form of Varanasi, as has surfaced through excavations, came into existence only around 3rd/4th century BCE.12 The city was a flourishing centre of trade and commerce during the Kushana times (1st–3rd centuries CE), after

82 Vidula Jayaswal

Figure 4.2 Excavations at Rajghat (1940) Source: Courtesy of Archaeological Survey of India.

which it appears to have lost its glory. Evidence of its desertion during the Gupta period (4th/5th century CE), is found from the excavation. The Varanasi city in its earliest phase extended from the confluence of Ganga and Varuna to the east of the present-day railway station complex.13 By virtue of its special and strategic position – a high flood plain, flanked by the mighty Ganga on one side and Varuna on the other – this area conduced to the growth of a trade- and agriculture-based economy between c. 800 BCE and c. 3rd century CE. It was during the post-Kushana times that the nucleus of ancient Varanasi shifted from Kashi–Rajghat locality to the pucca mahal area (west of Rajghat), which is still the heart of the city. This tendency is well recorded in Xuanzang’s account. The nucleus of the city, as per his description, was located to the south-west of Sarnath, and is calculated to be the pucca mahal area.14 In the absence of exposed archaeological horizons in the pucca mahal area, which still awaits the spade of archaeologists, the Xuanzang’s account may be accepted as providing a historical glimpse of the settlement, as well as the nature of the sacred landscape of Varanasi. Xuanzang mentions that the country, perhaps the janapada of Kashi, was 4,000 li (1000 km) in area, while its capital was 18/19 li (4.50/4.75 km) in length and 5/6 li (1.25/1.50 km) in breadth.15 He further describes the capital city as densely populated with rich families, most of whom were ‘unbelievers’ of Buddhist Law. Beals’ translation of Xuanzang’s account of the city’s religious make-up reads:

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In the capital there are twenty Deva temples, the towers and halls of which are of sculptured stone and carved wood . . . pure stream of water encircle them. The statue of the Deva Mahesvara, made of teou-shin (native copper), is somewhat less than 100 feet high. Its appearance is grave and majestic, and appears as though really living.16 It may be mentioned that even now the pucca mahal locality, the centre of the modern city of Varanasi, is very thickly populated with followers of the lord Shiva and is dotted with a number of Shiva temples, like KashiVishvanath, Kala-Bhairava, etc. It may also be noted that Xuanzang made no mention of Buddhist monuments in the city of Varanasi, nor the exposed horizons of Kashi–Rajghat in the course of excavations have revealed any evidence of it. Though the adoption of Shaivism in a big way by the inhabitants of Varanasi is well attested, the beginning of the process is not clear. Some indirect indications from the archaeological and literary evidence, however, suggest that Shaivism developed deep roots in the soil of this city in the post-Kushana times. For the Kushana glory in the Varanasi region appears to have waned sometime around mid-3rd century CE, when Bharashivas gained supremacy over this region. Incidentally, Bharashiva Nagas are identified as ‘one of the most important powers that flourished on the ruins of the Kushan empire’.17 Desertion of Aktha and Kashi–Rajghat in the post-Kushana times (i.e., c. 3rd century CE) may be associated with the dominance of some such dynasty in the region. The Bharashiva dynasty is known to have been staunch worshipers of Shiva, who also performed the Ashvamedha yajna and might have built a number of Shiva temples in the region. Shaivism, thus, was adopted by the masses of Varanasi city under the influence of this dynasty and has since been followed by the successive generations of residents. Located on the banks of Ganga, the city gradually gave rise to numerous mythological tales and folklores centred on the Shaiva pantheon, in which Ganga plays an important role. Infusion and local adoption of such mythological narratives as the Gangavatarana (‘descent of Ganga [from the matted locks of Shiva]’) in Kashi, which has been discussed later in the chapter, further enriched the religious and cultural milieu of this city.

Sarnath–Aktha: origin and growth of the Buddhist landscape The archaeologist’s spade, which scientifically unearthed the buried remains of the Varanasi region, first fell at Sarnath (Long. 83° 2’ E and Lat. 25° 23’ N) in 1905.18 This was followed by subsequent excavations in the early 20th century.19 As a result of these excavations, the nature and grandeur of this Buddhist religious establishment at this site was exposed. The material remains at this site may be dated to the period spanning from the time of the Mauryan king Ashoka (c. 273–36 BCE)20 to that of Kumaradevi, one of the queens of the Gahadvala king Govindchandra (1114–54 CE).21 Sarnath, the place where

84 Vidula Jayaswal ‘the Great Master’, i.e., the Buddha, preached his first sermon, is identifiable with Rishipattan-Mrigadaya, mentioned in the Buddhist text Mahavastu and described therein as ‘an open space near Beneras where was situated the famous Mrigadaya or Deer Park’.22 After about a century of the initial discovery of Sarnath, intensive archaeological investigations were conducted around Sarnath between 1994 and 1998. These investigations were to purported identify supporting settlements of this religious establishment, as also deposits contemporaneous with the time of the Buddha, since excavations at Sarnath could not reveal such deposits. Also the question why Buddha chose Sarnath for delivering his first sermon remained unanswered for the want of a pre-Buddha archaeological picture of the region. The most promising source of water around Sarnath is Varuna. Its tributary stream Aktha-nala, connects Varuna with Sarang-tal, on the southern bank of which are located the monuments of Sarnath. The site of Aktha was discovered at the confluence of Aktha-nala and Narkhohnala, a small tributary of the former, at about a distance of 1 km from the monuments of Sarnath.23 Excavations at Aktha revealed not only archaeological horizons contemporary with the Buddha, but also provided evidence for the identification of Rishipattan of the Buddhist text. The site of Aktha spreads over an area of about 0.5 sq. km. The Narokharnala demarcates the entire northern boundary of the ancient mound. Flowing from the side of the Paharia mound, it passes through the western part of the raised ground of the mound. The Aktha-nala, which connects the ancient religious settlement of Sarnath with Aktha, meets the Narokhar-nala a little beyond the north-western boundary of this site. The channels provide a good natural protective device to about 930 sq. m stretch of land. The chrono-cultural sequence unearthed through 18 habitation layers at Aktha is divisible into five periods: the Later Vedic, the janapada, the Maurya–Shunga, the Kushana and the late Kushana. On the basis of the C14 dates obtained from the middle floor of Period I at Aktha, the earliest occupation of the site is datable between c. 1800 BCE and c. 1450 BCE.24 Incidentally, the first occupation of Varanasi by Kashis, a tribe mentioned in the Later Vedic Samhitas,25 may also testify this archaeological evidence. The details of excavated remains of Period I at Aktha indicates that though there were quite a few ceramic traditions and good-quality pots were in use, other material remains were rather simple. Black and red pottery along with the combination of Black-and-Red Ware (BRW) indicates advanced ceramic technology. Use of fast wheel, thin and well-baked pots, and a variety of bowls are noteworthy. But the tendency to use these pots without painting was a typical feature of the material culture of the site. The items of daily use were made of bone, iron and copper as well as of wood. Houses in the form of huts were also made of perishable material, such as mats, grass, wood, bamboo, and earth. The nature of the finds not only corresponds with the descriptions of material culture found in the Later Vedic texts, but the simplicity and long unchanging nature of the artefacts suggest that this

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settlement was dominated by hermitages or retreats of ascetics and sages for a considerable length of time. Even though the area of excavation was limited, exposure of an extensive rammed floor with post-holes was significant, as indicative of the presence of a shelter made of aforementioned perishable material. It may be further noted that no evidence for mud plaster or tiles was obtained from the digs. The nature of the houses of Period I at Aktha corresponds with the descriptions of material life in the Later Vedic Samhitas which mentions that dwellings (grihas) were made of wooden posts and beams. Wooden posts or upamitas were upright pillars over which parimitas were placed. The latter was to provide support to the super-structure of split bamboo and thatch of the roof.26 The Shala-sukta of the Atharva Veda mentions the use of chatai (mat) and phusa (dried grass) for the construction of the superstructure of shalas. The shalas, dressed up with chatai and covered with phusa, provided shelter.27 Reminiscent of such a structure made of mats, thatch and wooden posts in archaeological context would be the post-holes and the floor, in case it is rammed, like the one which was found from the deposits of Period I at Aktha. Another significant category of artefacts of Period I found at Aktha was the geometric potsherds, or the kapala,28 which occurred in high proportion among the artefacts found. It has been argued that pottery-discs bear close similarities with the kapala,28 an important ritual object of the Vedic yajna.29 Kapala literally means a broken piece of clay pot or a potsherd,30 used for baking sacrificial cakes for offering during yajnas. The kapalas, the circular potsherd containers, are mentioned in various contexts while describing rituals in the Later Vedic Samhitas. Their occurrence in archaeological context in the middle Ganga valley goes back to around 3rd millennium BCE. The demand for this ritual object originated among the agriculturist rural communities of the alluvial plains – of the late Neolithic and Neolithic– Chalcolithic times – that practised multiple cropping. Our examination of the archaeological data indicates that the establishment of advanced agricultural technologies – datable to c. 1950–1300 BCE – corresponds with the earliest use of kapalas. Their appearance at this stage is, however, marked by very restricted numbers, yet it is significant that the affluent sections of the agricultural rural settlements initiated the practice of performing yajnas prescribed in the Vedic Samhitas.31 In the subsequent stage, i.e., from c. 1300/1200 BCE to c. 600 BCE, the kapalas became prominent in the archaeological record of the sites of the entire middle Ganga plains. At those sites, like Senuwar, where early occurrence of pottery-discs was recorded, at this stage a marked increase in their proportion was observed.32 At Aktha, pottery-discs, along with remains of floors and evidence for the use of fire, thus testifies to the dwellings of the practitioners of Vedic rituals. Supporting evidence for the argument that Aktha was the resort of rishis may be had from a terracotta human figurine which was retrieved from the upper level of Period III (Sunga times).33 Though later in date, it is noteworthy for its

86 Vidula Jayaswal peculiar features. On account of its high, conical coiffure like jata-juta (long tresses of hair twisted on the top of the head), this figure can be identified as that of a hermit and may be compared with the ascetic figures of Khairadih.34 It can also be assumed that this might be a clay effigy of a Vedic rishi who lived at Rishipattan. Aktha had quite a few geographical advantages. It was very well drained by perennial streams like Narkhoh-nala, Aktha-nala and river Varuna, along with a number of ponds. These water bodies were not only sources of sweet water, an imperative to support a settlement, but also did not swell up to such levels as to threaten the habitation. The fertile land in the neighbourhood with access to pools was an added advantage. The long stretch of grasslands, along with patches of forest, which was the presumed ecology of the 2nd millennium BCE, was suitable for the inhabitants, who adapted this ecology for more than a 1,000 years, as the thickness of the horizon of Period I at Aktha was recorded to be a little less than 3 m. The geographical location of Aktha further indicates that this place was situated at the junction of major routes, which connected various regions, passing through Kashi janapada. There was ‘the old Grand Trunk Road from Rājagriha through Banaras, Sāketa and Śrāvastī towards Taxila and frontiers, linking India with Central and Western Asia’.35 The modern land route connecting north and south Bihar and various parts of Uttar Pradesh touches Aktha, while the city of Varanasi is about 5 km to the south. Aktha marks the junction of the highways connecting Gorakhpur and Allahabad, Balia and Lucknow, Lucknow and Buxar, Ayodhya and Vaishali, Ayodhya and Patna, etc. However, in spite of its location at the main land routes, Aktha does not appear to have developed as a trade centre. On the contrary, it appears to have continued as a small hermitage-dominated settlement, frequented by reputed learned persons, with water channels, fertile lands, grasslands, and forested patches catering to their subsistence requirements. Its proximity to Sarnath was an added advantage for it to serve as a sacred site. This situation brings it closer to the representation of Rishipattan of the Buddhist text Mahavastu, according to which, ‘Isipatana was so called because sages on their way through the air (from the Himalayas), alight here or start from here on their aerial flight’.36 The capital of the Kashi janapada, represented by the present-day site of Kashi–Rajghat, was also not very far (about 2 to 3 km as the crow flies). Thus, both geo-ecological and cultural makeup of the Aktha–Sarnath region was likely to have been found suitable by the Buddha for preaching his first sermon there. Identification of Rishipattan with the present-day religious establishment of Sarnath may not be beyond doubt. For, till today, there is no indication for pre-Mauryan remains at Sarnath. Further, the archaeological remains at Sarnath indicates that this site had developed as Buddhist religious complex and a pilgrimage spot entirely under the patronage of the kings and traders of the Mauryan and the post-Mauryan times. Sarnath, during the Buddha’s time and before, was, perhaps, known as a forested region where the deer

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roamed. However, as per its description in the ancient texts, Rishipattan appears to have been an early settlement marked by hermitages where the rishis camped or resided. Aktha appears to fit in well with the picture drawn from archaeological and textual evidence. An ancient channel, which connected Ganga and Sarnath, was traced during our field survey. This dried-up rivulet, Rajapur-nala, was dotted with a chain of small rural settlements, where icons and stone blocks were carved. The stream was utilised from the Mauryan times to the early medieval period for transportation of large blocks of sandstone which were imported into the region as medium of carving. The carvings were prepared at sites like Kotwa, Rajapur and Asapur and were utilised to adorn the monuments of Sarnath. The region drained by Rajapur-nala, though it cannot be distinctively identified as a sacred place, it did form part and parcel of the sacred landscape, since it supported the religious establishment of Sarnath in a big way. The modern village of Kotwa (Long. 83°03’15” E and Lat. 25°20’20” N) is a small settlement situated on the left bank of Rajapur-nala, a tributary stream of Ganga, a little away from the confluence of the nala and the main course of Ganga. Except for a small part (to the west), which is under cultivation, the mound at Kotwa (with an extension of 250 m × 75 m), is extensively inhabited. The mound was identified as a small ancient village of stone sculptors and excavated in 1994. As a result, four ancient stone carving floors were exposed.37 On and around the floors rested a huge accumulation of stone debris indicating large-scale chiselling of sandstone. The rural nature of the site with the predominance of chiselling-refuse was quite distinctive. Associated with these were potsherds and broken pieces of carvings. On account of the typology of the pots, and the style and subject of the carvings, a time bracket between c. 1st/2nd century BCE and 11th/12th century CE could be ascertained for this site. The archaeological horizons at Kotwa correspond, by and large, with the history of stone sculptural art of Varanasi–Sarnath region, as the three periods identified at Kotwa are the Kushana, the Gupta and the post-Gupta. The remains at Asapur appear to be reminiscent of the chiselling activities of the post-Gupta/early medieval period. From the foregoing discussion, it may, thus, be summarised that both Aktha-Narkhoh-nala and Rajapur-nala formed part and parcel of the sacred landscape of Aktha–Sarnath region, where settlements developed in the following three stages: •

Stage I: the Later Vedic landscape and the origin of Buddhism The main reason for the establishment of a settlement at Aktha in the Later Vedic period appears to be the movements of saints from north to south-east along the path which later developed as Uttarapatha (northern land route). Located by the side of this route, this small settlement

88 Vidula Jayaswal became the resort of rishis who were frequently going up and down from the Himalayan region to various places in the middle Ganga plain. Soon, it appeared to earn fame as a centre of sages, or Rishipattan. That these visitors were followers of the Vedic religion is testified by the nature of exposed habitation floors and associated antiquities. It may be argued that the visit and stay of the sages helped Aktha gain the reputation of being a centre of wisdom. To the Buddha who was eager to preach his wisdom and learning to humankind, such a place of repute would certainly have had an attraction. Further, since Aktha was located on a major land route of the Indian subcontinent, it was also suitable for the dissemination of his teachings to distant places. There was, thus, more than one advantage for which Mrigadaya in the vicinity of Rishipattan was selected by the Buddha for delivering his first sermon. This stage, thus, may be identified as that of the establishment of the Vedic religion and the origin of Buddhism in the Varanasi region. •

Stage II: growth of the Buddhist landscape Donations by Buddhists at Mrigadaya near Sarnath from the Mauryan to the early medieval times were responsible for the building of monuments and thereby the development of a sacred landscape for more than 1,500 years. At the instance of the Mauryan king Ashoka, a monastery, a stupa and a pillar were erected at the site. Subsequently, the Kushana period initiated the practice of offering large images of the Bodhisattvas and Buddha at this Buddhist centre. In the Gupta and post-Gupta periods, the practice of both offering of images and construction of monuments continued. This was the stage when not only the nucleus of the sacred place was enlarged, but also the landscape of Sarnath expanded towards the southern axis, up to the river Ganga (about 5 km). This was because the demand for stone carvings at Sarnath gave impetus to the growth of craft centres on Rajapur-nala, which was well connected with the resource area of Chunar hills. But the eastern axis of this landscape, represented by Aktha, started losing ground and was completely deserted soon (c. 3rd/4th century CE). On the other hand, the southern group of settlements emerged and clustered in the form of craftsmen’s villages (from 1st/2nd century CE), enlarging the Buddhist landscape beyond the nucleus at Sarnath.

•

Stage III: shrinkage and loss of the sacred Buddhist landscape Around 13th century CE, the flourishing Buddhist establishment of Sarnath appears to have lost its glory. Early medieval Brahmanical images have been obtained from this site, though their proper context is not known. The cause/s for the decline of this Buddhist establishment, evident in the archaeological record, is/are difficult to ascertain. So is the case with the stone carving sites like Kotwa, indicating that the demand for images had ceased to exist by around 13th century CE in this region.

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As a result, these craft centres were abandoned. In about a couple of centuries, the sacred landscape of Aktha–Sarnath was completely erased from the minds of the people.

The river Ganga It goes without saying that the river Ganga is the lifeline of Varanasi and the main source for sustaining its sacred landscape. This is reflected in the cultural make-up of the city and the numerous mythological and folk stories about it. One of the popular stories described in the Kashikhanda section of the Skanda Purana is noteworthy. King Bhagirath, after worshiping the lord Shiva, brought Ganga to the Manikarnika Ghat (the nucleus of the modern city of Varanasi). Even before the advent of Ganga, the region was known as Anandakanan, the abode of Shiva. It was because of the combination of these two factors that the place became very auspicious.38 This story survives in the form of folktales among the inhabitants of this city even today. What the aforementioned myth of Gangavatarana in Varanasi suggests is that there was a time in the remote past, when Ganga did not flow near the city of Varanasi, and its flow in the vicinity of this settlement was a later event. Interestingly, the geo-archaeological investigations in the Varanasi region not only prove that the myth camouflaged the memory of significant geological events in remote antiquity, but, also point to the time of these major events which shaped the geomorphology of the present Varanasi region. With a view to ascertaining the history of the main water channels in the region, geo-archaeological investigations were conducted at Ramnagar,39 where underlying the archaeological horizon a thick accumulation of alluvium was found. This alluvial deposit was excavated up to the depth of the water level of Ganga, and samples were collected by U. K. Shukla, the geologist working with the team, both for soil sampling and dating. A complete sequence of sediments of the Ramnagar bank could be prepared. Shukla also investigated other parts of the old Ganga bed in order to reconstruct the history of the water channels in general and Ganga in particular.40 A reddish deposit located at the base of Ramnagar section was the composition over which the river started incising its channel. For quite some time, it kept changing its course, which made this area unsuitable for human occupation. It was around 7,000 BP (or before present), that due to tectonic movements the banks of Ganga, both on the city side and on the Ramnagar side, were lifted. This new morphological feature trapped the mighty river in the valley where it flows now. Due to the drainage of a number of other water bodies, the banks took some more centuries to attain the present form which is suitable for occupation. The settlement in Varanasi through the ages has constantly adapted to changes in the geomorphology and aquatic environment, and thus kept shifting its nucleus from one to the other locale. The dispersal of ancient sites of Varanasi clearly indicates that in the course of its history the nucleus of

90 Vidula Jayaswal ancient Varanasi had shifted at least three times – represented by Stage I, when Aktha was located away from the Ganga, in the Varuna valley; Stage II, when Kashi–Rajghat occupied the confluence of rivers Ganga and Varuna; and Stage III, when the core of modern Varanasi city was situated on the west bank of Ganga. Later, further shift/expansion of the modern city to the west up to the Assi river and beyond is attested. It is perhaps this adaptive tendency which has kept this city alive for such a long time, when other contemporary cities of the Ganga plain were abandoned. The first flow of the channel of Ganga is dated by scientific method (OSL [Optically Stimulated luminescence] dating) to 40,000 BP.41 For quite some time, the flow of Ganga was erratic, as it frequently shifted its course, making the banks uninhabitable. The present course of the river was defined around 7,000 years ago, when both left and right banks were lifted up by some tectonic movements. In every likelihood, this was the time suggested by the myth of Ganga’s advent. If this was the situation, then the region away from the banks of the mighty river, the Varuna valley, would be the preferred habitat for settlements. After the elevation of the banks, the channel of this mighty river was trapped between the raised banks and its course was stabilized. Once this morphology was established, the river started eroding its bed. As a result, there was a successive lowering of the water level and diffusion of the impact of rising water levels reaching the settlements during floods. This is confirmed by the archaeological findings in the region. For example, the protective devices against a number of threats, such as flood, invasion, etc., at Ramnagar of the late Northern Black Polished Ware (NBPW) period (about 3rd–1st century BCE) fell in disuse during the Kushana period (1st/2nd century CE) (Figure 4.3). From the foregoing discussion, it may be concluded that the settlement of Varanasi, through the ages, has adapted to changes in the geomorphology and aquatic environment, and thus has kept shifting its nucleus from one locale to the other. The spatial expansion and growth of the city area of Varanasi over the years has been along the main channel in east–west axis, between the confluences of Ganga with Assi and Varuna. The proximity of the city to Ganga helped it grow as a Shaiva settlement. The peripheral area of this city, on the other hand, forms a rough north–south axis between the Kashi–Rajghat bank of Ganga and Sarnath (5–7 km in land from the main channel of the river). On geomorphological grounds, this axis can be said to represent the earlier habitation, strewn with satellite rural settlements, so essential for the Buddhist establishment. The geomorphological and geographical features of the region, particularly Ganga and other water bodies, thus, appear to have helped Varanasi grow as one of the most reputed pilgrimage sites of Shaivism, while the inland region, drained by the Varuna system, witnessed the origin and growth of the Buddhist landscape. However, in nature and chronology, both differed from each other.

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Figure 4.3 Excavations at Ramnagar (2006–07) Source: Author’s private collection.

Religious landscape vis-à-vis water bodies The Varanasi region forms an integral part of the middle Ganga plain, which is composed of thick alluvial deposits. The alluvial cover consisting of interbedded layers of sand, silt and clay has been formed due to a continuous process of deposition since the Pleistocene times.42 Over a water-bearing stratum, this composition has been assessed as being 20 ft of strong clay, 30 ft of blue silt and 35 ft of loam. Devoid of rock formation, the alluvial cover is divided into two – the new and the old formation. The older one is known as uparwar, the upland which may be seen in the form of high river banks, while the newer one, tari, is the flood plain of Ganga.43 The alluvial plain of Ganga in the Varanasi region is divided within two regions, i.e., the western or the left bank (Varanasi city and its neighbourhood), and the eastern, the opposite bank (Ramnagar and its vicinity). The land on the western bank has a gentle slope towards east and south-east which helps the flow of the tributary streams almost at a right angle to Ganga. The eastern part is generally lower, with a slope towards north and northeast, which governs the course of the water channels. The alluvial upland of this region merges with the Vindhyan plateau lying in the modern tehsil of

92 Vidula Jayaswal Chakia.44 The alluvium deposit of this area is in the form of suspended load from the Vindhyan plateau. When the main water channel, the river Ganga, enters Varanasi near Ramnagar, its right bank is high with kankar formation,45 on which are located the modern and ancient settlements of Ramnagar. Beyond Ramnagar, downstream to Varanasi, its left bank, on which the city is located, rises into a high ridge, between the confluences of Assi and Ganga, and Varuna and Ganga. Incidentally, the bank on which the city is located is about 50 ft above the water level and 252 ft above the Mean Sea Level (MSL). This contour extends eastward beyond the confluence of Varuna and Ganga, up to Tantepur, where the channel begins to shift to the opposite bank. The low banks opposite Ramnagar and Varanasi city are liable to frequent floods and thus not suitable for settlements. Three tributary streams – Assi, Varuna and Rajapur – of Ganga appear to have contributed significantly to the make-up of Varanasi. According to the Buddhist legends, Assi, a small rain-fed stream of Ganga, formed the southern boundary of Varanasi. Varuna is an independent perennial river, which flows parallel to Ganga for quite a long distance before it finally merges with it between Kashi–Rajghat and Sarai-Mohana. In its course, Varuna is joined by a number of streams, some of which also join tals or natural ponds on their way. The banks of Varuna are considerably high and its bed is composed of light sandy clay. The Varuna valley has a thick fertile soil cover, which is a flood deposit of Ganga.46 Rajapur-nala is another dried-up stream, which originates from Sarang tal, near the monuments of Sarnath. It merges with Ganga near Rajapur village, about 2 km east of Sarai-Mohana. At the confluence, the bed of this stream is wide and its banks high. Till recently, the back water of Ganga during floods could fill the entire dried channel up to Sarnath and provide a glimpse of the original form of this stream. It was this channel which was used extensively for transportation of large sandstone blocks from Chunar hills to the workshop sites like Kotwa and Asapur.47 Another noteworthy feature of the Varanasi region is the existence of numerous lakes (jhils) and natural ponds (tals). These ponds dot both the eastern and western divides.48 The smaller ones get filled up during the rainy season, but most of these dry up in the summer. The pond near Sarnath in this series has direct relevance to our study, since it is the source of two streams: Aktha-nala and Rajapur-nala. Aktha flows out from the western side of Sarang tal (as it is locally known), and running south-west joins Varuna near Paharia–Aktha locality. Rajapur-nala, flowing out from the eastern side of the tal appears to be a larger channel, as it constantly receives the back water of Ganga during the rainy season. A number of small ancient settlements were located on the banks of these two tributary streams.49 The vast cultural zone of Varanasi was defined by two tendencies of occupation: one on the banks of the major river Ganga, and the other, along the smaller rivers/streams further inland. These two could be demarcated as the ‘Kashi–Varanasi’ and the ‘Aktha–Sarnath’ regions. The first one refers to

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the deposits on the left bank of Ganga and its confluence with Varuna, almost forming an east–west axis of the region, while the other incorporates inland stretch in a north–south axis between Kashi–Rajghat (bank of Ganga) and Aktha–Sarnath (Aktha and Rajapur streams). As mentioned earlier, both these sacred landscapes developed independently, a phenomenon that was strongly influenced by the existence and nature of the water channels. The history of the river Ganga, thus, appears to play a vital role in this development.

Notes 1 Atharva Veda V.22.14, in W. D. Whitney, Atharva Veda Saṃhitā, vol. 1, Varanasi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1984, p. 261. 2 T. W. Rhys Davids and J. Estlin Carpenter (eds.), The Dīgha Nikāya, London: Pali Text Society, 1982 [1949], p. 146. 3 S. Beal (trans.), Si-Yu-Ki: Buddhist Records of the Western World, by Hiuen Tsiang, vol. 3, Varanasi: Bharati Publishing House, 1980 [1884], p. 291. 4 Ibid., p. 292. 5 Alexander Cunningham, ‘Benaras, Sarnath’, in Alexander Cunningham, Archaeological Survey of India: Four Reports Made during the Years 1862–63–64–65, vol. 1, New Delhi: Indological Book House, 1972 [1871], pp. 103–30. 6 F. O. Oertel, ‘Excavations at Sarnath’, in Archaeological Survey of India Annual Report, 1904–05, New Delhi: Swati Publications, 1990 [1908], pp. 59–104; J. Marshall and S. Konow, ‘Sarnath’, in Archaeological Survey of India Annual Report, 1906–07, New Delhi: Swati Publications, 1990 [1909], pp. 68–101; J. Marshall and S. Konow, ‘Excavations at Sarnath, 1908’, in Archaeological Survey of India Annual Report, 1907–08, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), 2002 [1911], pp. 43–80. 7 A. K. Narain and T. N. Roy, Excavations at Rajghat (1957–58; 1960–65), part 1: The Cutting, Stratification and Structures, Varanasi: Banaras Hindu University, 1976. 8 Vidula Jayaswal, From Stone Quarry to Sculpturing Workshop: A Report on the Archaeological Investigations around Chunar, Varanasi and Sarnath, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1998. 9 Vidula Jayaswal, Ancient Varanasi: An Archaeological Perspective (Excavations at Aktha), New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2009; Vidula Jayaswal, ‘Antiquity of Varanasi as Revealed by the Excavation at Aktha (2008–09)’, Puratattva, 2009, 39: 141–6. 10 Vidula Jayaswal and Manoj Kumar, ‘Ramnagar: Discovery of a Supporting Settlement of Ancient Varanasi’, Puratattva, 2006, 36: 85–92. 11 B. P. Singh, Life in Ancient Varanasi: An Account Based on the Archaeological Evidence, New Delhi: Sundeep Prakashan, 1985, p. 58. 12 Narain and Roy, Excavations at Rajghat, p. 22. 13 Ibid., p. 7. 14 Vidula Jayaswal, ‘Mauryan Pillars of the Middle Ganga Plain in the Light of Archaeological Discoveries of Sarnath: Varanasi and Chunar’, in Patrick Olivelle, Janice Leoshko and Himanshu Prabha Ray (eds.), Reimagining Aśoka: Memory and History, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2012, pp. 229–57. 15 Beal (trans.), Si-Yu-Ki, p. 191. 16 Ibid. 17 D. C. Sircar, ‘North India after the Kushana’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, vol. 2: The Age of Imperial Unity, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1968 [1951], p. 169.

94 Vidula Jayaswal 18 Oertel, ‘Excavations at Sarnath’. 19 Marshall and Konow, ‘Sarnath’; Marshall and Konow, ‘Excavations at Sarnath’; H. Hargreaves, ‘Excavations at Saranth’, in Archaeological Survey of India Annual Report, 1914–15, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 2002 [1920], pp. 97–131. 20 R. K. Mookerji, ‘Asoka, the Great’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, vol. 2: The Age of Imperial Unity, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1968 [1951], p. 89. 21 D. C. Ganguly, ‘North India during the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, vol. 5: The Struggle for Empire (1000–1300 A.D.), Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1957, pp. 52–4. 22 I. B. Horner, The Collection of the Middle Length Sayings (Majjhima-Nikāya), vol. 1, Oxford: Pali Text Society, 1995 [1954], p. 214. 23 Jayaswal, From Stone Quarry to Sculpturing Workshop. 24 Jayaswal, ‘Antiquity of Varanasi’. 25 E. B. Havell, Benares, the Sacred City: Sketches of Hindu Life and Religion, London: Blackie & Son Ltd., 1905, p. 2. 26 G. C. Pande, Vedic Samskriti (Hindi), Allahabad: Lokbharati, 2001, p. 268. 27 Ibid., pp. 268–9. 28 Vidula Jayaswal, ‘Aktha: A Satellite Settlement of Sarnath, Varanasi (Report of Excavations Conducted in the Year 2002)’, Bharati, 2003, 26: 97. 29 Vidula Jayaswal and M. Sharma, ‘Pottery-Disc: The Kapāla of Vedic Yajña’, in B. R. Mai and S. C. Saran (eds.), Purābhāratī: Studies in Early Historical Archaeology and Buddhism (Commemoration Volume in Respect of Prof. B. P. Sinha), vol. 1, New Delhi: Sharada Publishing House, 2006, pp. 38–47. 30 T. N. Dharmadhikari, Yajñāyudhāni: An Album of Sacrificial Utensils with Descriptive Notes, Poona: Vaidika Saṃśodhana Maṇḍala, 1989, p. 20. 31 Jayaswal, Ancient Varanasi, p. 32. 32 B. P. Singh, Early Farming Communities of the Kaimur: Excavations at Senuwar 1986–87, 89–90, vol. 1, Jaipur: Publication Scheme, 2004. 33 Jayaswal, Ancient Varanasi, Plate no. XXV. 34 Vidula Jayaswal, Kushana Clay Art of Ganga Plains: A Case Study of Human Forms from Khairadih, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1991, Plate no. VII, figure no. 20. 35 R. K. Mookerji, ‘Economic Condition’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, vol. 2: The Age of Imperial Unity, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1980 [1951], p. 606. 36 J. J. Jones (trans.), The Mahāvastu, vol. 1, London: Pali Text Society, 1987 [1949], p. 37. 37 Jayaswal, From Stone Quarry. 38 K. Tripathi, R. Tripathi and N. Tripathi (eds.), Maharcivyāsapraṇītaḥ Śrīkandamahāpurāṇāntargataḥ. Kāśīhaṇaḥ Vyākhyādvayopetaḥ., Khaṇḍa 2, Varanasi: Sampūrṇnanda Saṃaskṛta Viśvavidyālaya, 1992, pp. 156–7. 39 Jayaswal and Kumar, ‘Ramnagar’; U. K. Shukla, ‘Evidence for Palaeofloods at Ramnagar’, Jnana-Pravaha Annual Bulletin, 2006, 9: 149–50. 40 U. K. Shukla and R. N. Raju, ‘Migration of the Ganga River and Its Implication on Hydro-Geological Potential of Varanasi Area, U.P., India’, Journal of Earth System Science, 2008, 117(4): 489–98. 41 P. Srivastava and U. K. Shukla, ‘Quaternary Evolution of the Ganga River System: New Quartz Ages and a Review of Luminescence Chronology’, Himalayan Geology, 2009, 30: 85–94. 42 E. B. Joshi, Varanasi: Uttar Pradesh District Gazetteer, Lucknow: Government of Uttar Pradesh, 1965, p. 13.

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Ibid., p. 4. Ibid., p. 5. Ibid., p. 6. Ibid., p. 8. Jayaswal, From Stone Quarry. Joshi, Varanasi, pp. 12–13. Jayaswal, From Stone Quarry.

Select references Beal, S. (trans.), Si-Yu-Ki: Buddhist Records of the Western World, by Hiuen Tsiang, vol. 3, Varanasi: Bharati Publishing House, 1980 [1884]. Cunningham, Alexander, ‘Benaras, Sarnath’, in Alexander Cunningham, Archaeological Survey of India: Four Reports Made during the Years 1862–63–64–65, vol. 1, New Delhi: Indological Book House, 1972 [1871], pp. 103–30. Dharmadhikari, T. N., Yajñāyudhāni: An Album of Sacrificial Utensils with Descriptive Notes, Poona: Vaidika Saṃśodhana Maṇḍḍala, 1989. Eck, Diana L., Banaras: City of Light, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983. Ganguly, D. C., ‘North India during the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, Vol. 5: The Struggle for Empire (1000–1300 A.D.), Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1957, pp. 52–54. Hargreaves, H., ‘Excavations at Saranth’, in Archaeological Survey of India Annual Report, 1914–15, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 2002 [1920], pp. 97–131. Havell, E. B., Benares, the Sacred City: Sketches of Hindu Life and Religion, London: Blackie & Son Ltd., 1905. Horner, I. B. (trans.), The Collection of the Middle Length Sayings (MajjhimaNikāya), vol. 1, Oxford: Pali Text Society, 1995 [1954]. Jayaswal, Vidula, Kushana Clay Art of Ganga Plains: A Case Study of Human Forms from Khairadih, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1991. ———, From Stone Quarry to Sculpturing Workshop: A Report on the ArchaeoLogical Investigations around Chunar, Varanasi and Sarnath, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1998. ———, ‘Aktha: A Satellite Settlement of Sarnath, Varanasi (Report of Excavations Conducted in the Year 2002)’, Bharati, 2003, 26: 61–180. ———, Ancient Varanasi: An Archaeological Perspective (Excavations at Aktha), New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2009. ———, ‘Antiquity of Varanasi as Revealed by the Excavation at Aktha (2008–09)’, Puratattva, 2009, 39: 141–6. ———, ‘Mauryan Pillars of the Middle Ganga Plain in the Light of Archaeological Discoveries of Sarnath-Varanasi and Chunar’, in Patrick Olivelle, Janice Leoshko, and Himanshu Prabha Ray (eds.), Reimagining Aśoka: Memory and History, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2012, pp. 229–57. Jayaswal, Vidula and Manoj Kumar, ‘Ramnagar: Discovery of a Supporting Settlement of Ancient Varanasi’, Puratattva, 2006, 36: 85–92. Jayaswal, Vidula and M. Sharma, ‘Pottery-Disc: The Kapāla of Vedic Yajña’, in B. R. Mai and S. C. Saran (eds.), Purābhāratī: Studies in Early Historical Archaeology

96 Vidula Jayaswal and Buddhism (Commemoration Volume in Respect of Prof. B. P. Sinha), vol. 1, New Delhi: Sharada Publishing House, 2006, pp. 38–47. Jones, J. J. (trans.), The Mahāvastu, vol. 1, London: Pali Text Society, 1987 [1949]. Joshi, E. B., Varanasi: Uttar Pradesh District Gazetteer, Lucknow: Government of Uttar Pradesh, 1965. Marshall, J. and S. Konow, ‘Sarnath’, in Archaeological Survey of India Annual Report, 1906–07, New Delhi: Swati Publications, 1990 [1909], pp. 68–101. ———, ‘Excavations at Sarnath, 1908’, in Archaeological Survey of India Annual Report, 1907–08, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 2002 [1911], pp. 43–80. Mookerji, R. K., ‘Asoka, the Great’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, Vol. 2: The Age of Imperial Unity, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1968 [1951], pp. 71–94. ———, ‘Economic Condition’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, Vol. 2: The Age of Imperial Unity, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1980 [1951], pp. 595–607. Narain, A. K. and T. N. Roy, Excavations at Rajghat (1957–58; 1960–65), Part 1: The Cutting, Stratification and Structures, Varanasi: Banaras Hindu University, 1976. Oertel, F. O., ‘Excavations at Sarnath’, in Archaeological Survey of India Annual Report, 1904–05, New Delhi: Swati Publications, 1990 [1908], pp. 59–104. Pande, G. C., Vedic Samskriti (Hindi), Allahabad: Lokbharati, 2001. Pusalkar, A. D., ‘Traditional History from the Accession of Parîkshit to the End of the Bārhadratha Dynasty’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, Vol. 1: The Vedic Age, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1996 [1951], pp. 323–36. Rhys Davids, T. W., Buddhist India, New Delhi: Indological Book House, 1970 [1903]. Rhys Davids, T. W. and J. Estlin Carpenter (eds.), The Dīgha Nikāya, London: Pali Text Society, 1982. Sahni, D., Catalogue of the Museum of Archaeology at Sarnath, Calcutta, 1914. Shukla, U. K., ‘Evidence for Palaeofloods at Ramnagar’, Jnana-Pravaha Annual Bulletin, 2006, 9: 149–50. Shukla, U. K. and R. N. Raju, ‘Migration of the Ganga River and Its Implication on Hydro-Geological Potential of Varanasi Area, U.P., India’, Journal of Earth System Science, 2008, 117(4): 489–98. Singh, B. P., Life in Ancient Varanasi: An Account Based on the Archaeological Evidence, New Delhi: Sundeep Prakashan, 1985. ———, Early Farming Communities of the Kaimur: Excavations at Senuwar 1986– 87, 89–90, vol. 1, Jaipur: Publication Scheme, 2004. Sircar, D. C., ‘North India after the Kushana’, in R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, Vol. 2: The Age of Imperial Unity, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1968 [1951], pp. 159–77. Srivastava, P. and U. K. Shukla, ‘Quaternary Evolution of the Ganga River System: New Quartz Ages and a Review of Luminescence Chronology’, Himalayan Geology, 2009, 30: 85–94. Tripathi, K., R. Tripathi and N. Tripathi (eds.), Maharcivyāsapraṇītaḥ Śrīkandam ahāpurāṇāntargataḥ. Kāśīhaṇaḥ Vyākhyādvayopetaḥ., Khaṇḍa, vol. 2, Varanasi: Sampūrṇnanda Saṃaskṛta Viśvavidyālaya, 1992. Whitney, W. D., Atharva Veda Saṃhitā, vol. 1, Varanasi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1984.

5

Transforming the landscape Questions of medieval reuse and worship at ancient Jain rock-cut sites near Madurai Lisa N. Owen

Scholars in search of the earliest material traces of Jainism in Tamil Nadu invariably turn to the numerous hills, caverns and rock-shelters found across the state. These sites, established as early as the 2nd century BCE, were used primarily as residences for Jain ascetics, as evidenced by the shallow beds cut into the rock floor. Many of the beds have smooth, polished surfaces, and some have a matrix of rock left intact at one end to form a slightly elevated pillow. Other modifications to the natural cavern or shelter include narrow channels incised into floors and drip-ledges carved into the overhanging rock to divert rainwater from the entrance and residential spaces. Indeed, such austere living conditions, especially when compared to contemporary Buddhist rock-cut monasteries that feature spacious halls, carved architectural elements and individual cells with elevated beds, seem to emphasise the more rigorous path of the Jain ascetic. Epigraphical material gleaned from these sites has also been examined to help characterise the Jain activities in the early historical period. Many of the natural caverns feature Tamil-Brahmi inscriptions that are incised across the beds or on a section of the overhanging rock. These records provide valuable information regarding the roles of the laity in supporting resident ascetics. The inscriptions often document the place where the patron is from and his or her occupation. Specific professions that are identified include salt and cloth merchants, ironmongers, goldsmiths and gold traders, jewellers, and carpenters.1 Collaborative donations by mercantile guilds are also recorded and attest to the popularity of Jainism for wealthy merchants, traders and craftsmen. The content of these inscriptions, combined with the location of these sites on interior trade routes leading to urban centres,2 is strong evidence indeed, for understanding socio-economic relationships during this early period. Other sources that are used for reconstructing the presence and roles of Jainism in Tamil Nadu during the early historical period are Tamil Sangam texts, poems and later epics, such as the Silappatikaram and the Manimekalai. While these sources provide glimpses into issues of governance, martial conflict, commercial interests, visits to temples, and other cultural affairs, they are not written as manuals of religious practice, or even as records of religious life. Nonetheless, these sources are often used by scholars to

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characterise the early historical period as a ‘Golden Age’ – a time when Brahmins, Buddhist monastic communities and Jain ascetics were equally supported by ruling elites and/or wealthy merchants. The Jain rock-cut sites examined in this chapter are often interpreted within this framework. They are also often seen as evidence of a ‘pure’ form of Jainism, where primacy is placed on the ascetic and his or her activities.3 In the 9th and 10th centuries CE, relief carvings of Jinas (24 liberated teachers of Jainism) were added to a number of these ancient Jain residences. While the number, arrangement, size, and iconographical details of these carvings differ from site to site, the reliefs generally present the Jina standing in meditation (kayotsarga) or seated upon a throne or lotus support. With the exception of images of the 23rd Jina Parshvanatha, the Jinas carved at these sites are for the most part undifferentiated. In addition to the Jina images, some of the sites also include representations of Jain deities (particularly goddesses) and/or the figure of Gommateshvara.4 The medieval reliefs carved at these ancient sites are typically located on a section of rock near the rock-cut beds, or were carved on a separate rock formation that is in close proximity to the residences. In addition to modifying ancient sites, large stone boulders that punctuate the Tamil landscape were also selectively carved with imagery. What instigated these practices and how did the addition of imagery transform these sites from places of residence to ones of devotion? What roles did these images play in worship activities and, apart from ritual practice, how else might we interpret their inclusion at these sites? These questions are at the heart of this chapter that examines 10 rock-cut sites near the city of Madurai. I have selected these sites because they are linked not only through their location and visual forms, but also through the names of two prominent teachers (Ajjanandi and Gunasenadeva) recorded in the medieval donative inscriptions. These connections allow for a detailed analysis of the ways in which medieval Tamil Jain communities perceived and created places of Jain presence in this area. It also sheds light on the sacralisation of landscape – a theme explored in other chapters in this volume. Before introducing these 10 sites, it is important to first establish the current state of scholarship on these monuments. How do scholars interpret the reuse of the older sites and how do they explain the incorporation of imagery in the 9th century CE? Why was imagery added to these sites at such a late date, especially when Jina sculptures were produced in great quantity across the subcontinent after the 1st century CE? In my assessment of the scholarly literature, I have discovered two overarching explanations to these questions and both centre around the ‘standard narrative’ of Jain and Hindu interactions in Tamil Nadu in the early medieval period. It is my hope that through this preliminary study, we (a) begin to challenge the role of this narrative in our interpretations of these medieval carvings; and (b) open up new avenues of investigation that give agency to the people that used and created these powerful places.

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The ‘standard narrative’ Working within the frameworks established by Richard Davis5 and Leslie Orr,6 I am ultimately interested in the dynamic, fluid and shifting encounters between medieval Tamil Jains and Hindus in an effort to dispel the ‘standard narrative’ of relations between these two groups that frequently appears in scholarly writings. The ‘standard narrative’ presents the history of interaction in this region solely in terms of dispute and conflict between fixed and monolithic communities of Hindus and Jains. According to this narrative, the 7th and 8th centuries CE ushered in a period of Hindu dominance over other communities and thus presented a rupture from the harmonious co-existence of religions during the Sangam period. This dominance took the form of a ‘revived’ devotional Shaivism and Vaishnavism that was connected to the rise of the power of regional dynasties. This ‘Hindu revival’ is documented through a vast corpus of poetry by Vaishnava and Shaiva poetsaints and by the physical ‘conversion’ of Buddhist and Jain monuments into Hindu places of devotion. This narrative, repeated in numerous scholarly sources, posits that at this point in time, there was clear communal discord between Hindu and ‘heterodox’ communities. By the 12th century CE, this discord ultimately escalated to targeted oppression and persecution of the ‘heterodox’ communities, particularly at the hands of Hindu kings. Davis summarises this narrative in the following words: As a result of the great Hindu revival of the seventh and eighth centuries, the standard narrative concludes, the once-powerful communities of Jains and Buddhists in Tamilnad met their demise. By the beginning of the Côla period, Hinduism was triumphant, and the few Jains remaining in the region were compelled to tailor their beliefs and practices to prevailing fashion. Historical accounts of later South India barely mention Jainism.7 While Davis admits that there is much evidence to support a rise in Hindu devotionalism (bhakti) during the early medieval period, he cautions us to consider ‘what the standard narrative entails and what it leaves out’. He continues: First, it collapses a social and religious conflict into a short time period and dramatizes the transformation in personal conversion stories, thereby suggesting that devotionally recharged Hinduism replaced Jainism and Buddhism in southern India quickly and completely. Second, it tends to essentialize religious formations like Jainism and Hinduism as cohesive and bounded religious communities with relatively fixed traditions of doctrine and practice.8 Orr also recognizes the pitfalls of the standard narrative, especially its ramifications for understanding medieval Jain and Hindu devotional activities

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in Tamil Nadu.9 She is critical of how it sets up a polarised model of relations between these groups. Rather than acknowledging any shared forms of devotional practices across these communities, this model places Jain and Hindu worship on opposite ends of a spectrum. Jains are typically considered austere in their values and practices, while Hindus participate in more sensory-related worship activities. As we will see, this polarisation has affected the way scholars treat and interpret the 9th-century-CE addition of carved imagery at these ancient Jain sites.

Sites under examination During the summer of 2011, I was able to examine and photo-document 10 rock-cut sites in Tamil Nadu.10 In alphabetical order, these sites are Alagarmalai, Anaimalai, Arittapatti, Karungalakkudi, Kilakuyilkudi, Kilavalavu, Kongar Puliyankulam, Muttupatti, Tirupparankunram, and Uttamapalayam. Although the last site, Uttamapalayam, is located approximately 100 km west of Madurai, the carvings and content of the donative inscriptions reveal ties with the other nine sites, so I have included it in this study. Most of these sites served initially as places of residence for ascetics in the 2nd or 1st century BCE and were subsequently transformed into sacred places for devotional activity through the addition of carved imagery. As each site is unique in terms of size, configuration within the landscape, and in the types and number of images, it is best to provide a brief description of these monuments. Alagarmalai Alagarmalai is located approximately 20 km north-east of Madurai. Out of the 10 sites, it is the most difficult to reach due to its position at the summit of an extensive granite outcrop. Although there have been attempts by independent Jain tourist organisations to make the site more accessible, it remains relatively unvisited. Alagarmalai has been studied by scholars primarily for its vast number of Tamil-Brahmi inscriptions. There are at least 13 epigraphs at the site, the majority carved across the brow of the natural cavern.11 The cavern itself measures approximately 17 m in length from north to south, and is 6 m deep. There are over 50 shallow beds inside this space, making Alagarmalai one of the largest monastic residences in this area. Carved on the southern edge of the overhanging rock is a single Jina image. The relief carving presents the Jina seated in meditative posture upon a large double lotus. The Jina’s body exhibits a few iconographical elements, namely a shallow hairline across the scalp, elongated ears and the hands placed in dhyanamudra. As is the case of a vast majority of Jina images carved at these 10 sites, the Jina cannot be specifically identified. Apart from an oblong niche incised around the Jina, there are no other architectural

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Figure 5.1 Jina Image at Alagarmalai, c. 9th Century CE Source: All photographs in this chapter are by the author.

or decorative elements in the relief. Nor does it appear to retain any traces of pigment. The Jina image is accompanied by a c.-9th-century-CE donative inscription written in Vatteluttu script. The epigraph is carved in a separate textbox to the right of the figure and states that the image was made for the preceptor Ajjanandi.12 This individual is also named in inscriptions found at six other sites in this study: Anaimalai, Arittapatti, Karungalakkudi, Kilakuyilkudi, Kongar Puliyankulam, and Uttamapalayam. Given the simplicity of the carving (particularly the lack of a halo and triple umbrella – elements that are commonly found on Jina images), some scholars identify the relief as a portrait of Ajjanandi. Anaimalai Anaimalai is, perhaps, the most well known of the 10 sites under examination, as it is 8 km north-east of the city and is quite accessible. The hill contains two caverns – one with ancient beds and the other with medieval relief carvings. After a steep climb up the southern side of the hill, one

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arrives at the first cavern that exhibits a series of six rock-cut beds. Two of the beds are elevated a few inches from the floor. This suggests that they might have been reserved for special occupants or senior ascetics. There is a single Tamil-Brahmi inscription, associated with the beds and carved on the prepared surface of the brow of the cavern. On the basis of its palaeography, the inscription is dated to the 2nd century CE and appears to name two ascetics.13 Located beneath this residence at the foot of the hill and accessible via a paved road is the second natural cavern. While ascetics may have once occupied the space inside, there is no extant evidence of carved beds. However, carved on the brow of the cavern is a series of eight images measuring approximately 0.3 to 0.6 m in height. From left to right, these images depict two enthroned Jinas, a standing Jina Parshvanatha, a standing Gommateshvara, an enthroned seated Jina, a Jina seated on a double lotus, an enthroned goddess (yakshi), and a Jina seated on a double lotus. The Jina images at Anaimalai feature elaborate throne-backs and are flanked by celestial and human attendants. Other attributes include the triple umbrella overhead and a halo. The eight images are accompanied by donative inscriptions written in the Vatteluttu script of c. 9th or 10th century CE. Three of these inscriptions state that the images were to be protected by revenue and/or village accountants.14 The name of the Jain preceptor Ajjanandi is also recorded in one of the inscriptions.15

Figure 5.2 Medieval Carvings at Anaimalai, c. 9th or 10th Century CE

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Arittapatti The village of Arittapatti is approximately 25 km north-east of Madurai and can be accessed via National Highway 38 towards Melur. A singular carving of a Jina is located on the eastern face of a hill locally known as Kalinjamalai. The Jina is seated in meditation on a double lotus and is crowned by both halo and triple umbrella. Two tall oil lamps frame the Jina and above these carved elements are two fly-whisks. The accompanying attendants appear to have been painted, as are other elements, such as foliage from a tree that encircles the triple umbrella. The entire composition is enclosed within an oblong-shaped niche. Beneath the image of the Jina is a textbox for a donative inscription. The Vatteluttu inscription states that the image ‘was caused to be cut by Ajjanandi and the accountants of Nerkodu’.16 It also states that the image was to be protected by the people of Vaniyakkudi.17 The c.-9th-century-CE image is carved high above a natural cavern that contains a Tamil-Brahmi inscription dating to the 2nd or 1st century BCE. This inscription identifies a single lay patron from Nelveli who donated the residence.18 As the cavern floor is concealed by layers of dirt and piled-up rocks, it is not known if stone beds were carved during this early period.

Karungalakkudi The large granite boulders of Karungalakkudi are located approximately 13 km north of Melur. The site is composed of two ancient residential areas: the first is formed by the overhang of a large boulder and the second is higher up on the rock formation. The ground-floor beds under the boulder comprise the largest part of the hermitage. They are of indeterminable number, shallowly carved and unpolished. On the rock face above is a single Tamil-Brahmi inscription.19 A set of rock-cut steps leads one to an area above this residence. Carved beneath another large boulder are shallowly cut beds. Across one of the beds is a lengthy 9th-century-CE Vatteluttu inscription that documents the performance of certain acts by an individual named Pallidaraiyan.20 These acts, such as ‘building a vimana and stopping the sea’, are claimed to be the results of Pallidaraiyan’s asceticism and conducted while in the service of an unnamed Pandya king.21 Other significant 9th-century-CE modifications to Karungalakkudi include a lion-pedestal carved from the matrix of rock comprising the ground-floor residential beds and a relief carving of Jina. The Jina image is located high up on a boulder adjacent to the ground-floor beds. Like the image at Alagarmalai, the Jina is seated in meditation on a double lotus support. No other elements are carved with the exception of a rounded niche. The donative inscription, carved in9th-century-CE Vatteluttu characters, is also succinct. It states that ‘this sacred image (tirumeni) was caused to be made by the glorious Ajjanandi’.22

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Figure 5.3 Jina Image at Karungalakkudi, c. 9th Century CE

Kilakuyilkudi The rock-cut monuments at Kilakuyilkudi (more commonly known as Samanamalai) are located approximately 15 km west of Madurai. Although this place is known to scholars for its 9th-century-CE carvings and inscriptions, recent discoveries in 2012 provide new evidence that this site was also occupied by Jain ascetics in the early historical period.23 The more well-known monuments are found in two prominent locations on Samanamalai hill. The first is a lower cave known as Settipodavu. It is a vast, natural cavern on the southern side of the hill that is currently filled with fragmented rock and debris. On its façade is a large Jina image measuring approximately 1.5 m in height. The Jina is seated on a lion throne and is flanked by fly-whisk attendants and flying celestial figures. Other iconographical elements include elongated ear-lobes, a shallow hairline across the scalp, a halo, a triple umbrella, and curls of foliage carved above the Jina’s curvilinear niche. A Vatteluttu inscription is inscribed directly along the base of the Jina’s lion throne. This record documents the teaching lineage of Abhinandan-bhatara who appears to have been an eminent monastic teacher.24 It also mentions the site of Kuṛaṇḍi-Tirukkāṭṭāmpaḷḷi that is now recognised (through epigraphical evidence) to be a prominent monastery that flourished during the 8th through 10th century CE. Though there is no extant material evidence of this monastery and scholars still debate as to

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where exactly it was situated, R. Champakalakshmi suggests that it might have been on the Samanamalai hill itself.25 Inside this cavern, carved into a curved section of rock near the opening, are five large-scale reliefs: a goddess seated on a lion, three enthroned Jinas and a goddess on a throne. The Jinas are similar in presentation to the colossal image on the façade. They are seated on thrones, flanked by two flywhisk bearers and crowned with a halo, a triple umbrella and foliage. Each Jina is carved with a c. 9th-century-CE Vatteluttu inscription that identifies the patrons as the pupils of the preceptor Gunasenadeva.26 This individual appears to be associated with the monastery at Kuṛaṇḍi-Tirukkattampalli and his name is also found in the inscriptional record at Muttupatti. The two goddesses framing these three Jinas do not have donative records, nor do they present an identical portrait of theyakshi. While the goddess carved on the right-end of the series is somewhat similar to the yakshi carved at Anaimalai, the relief initiating this sculptural programme depicts the goddess within a larger visual narrative. She is seated on a lion and is in the act of drawing an arrow across her bow that is directed towards a smaller male figure mounted on an elephant. That these two are in combat is clearly demonstrated through the sword and shield held by the male figure, and through the goddess’s lion that is physically attacking the elephant. In her examination of this relief, Orr compares the sculpture to a more famous panel at Mamallapuram of the Hindu goddess Durga Mahishasuramardini.27 The fact that there is much in common between the ‘Jain’ goddess at Kilakuyilkudi and representations of ‘Hindu’ goddesses, such as Durga, reinforces Orr’s thesis that scholars need to reconsider the saliency of using fixed religious classifications and identities for goddesses in medieval Tamil Nadu. Indeed, the inclusion of goddess imagery at these Jain sites indicates that they were considered to be more than mere attendants to the Jina. They are presented as independent deities, carved on a similar scale and sometimes seated upon similar thrones as their liberated counterparts. And perhaps more importantly, they are presented as powerful, multivalent beings that are able to bestow their blessings on a diverse audience of worshippers. Carved across a giant expanse of rock located above Settipodavu cave are eight reliefs. The images are incised above a cleft that is often filled with water from a neighbouring spring. Known as Pechchipallam, this monument features four images of the 23rd Jina Parshvanatha. Two of these carvings present the Jina standing in isolation with an elaborate serpent canopy over his head. The coils of his serpent attendant, Dharanendra, appear behind the figure of the Tirthankara. A third relief presents Dharanendra shielding an attack on Parshvanatha by the rock-hurling demon Sambara. In this relief, the Jina is also flanked by a kneeling male devotee and the goddess Padmavati. The fourth relief of Parshvanatha presents the Jina’s attendant Dharanendra in therio-anthropomorphic form. This particular portrayal is found primarily in southern India and visually connects Pechchipallam to a relief at Anaimalai.28 The remaining four reliefs at Pechchipallam include

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Figure 5.4 Medieval Carvings at Kilakuyilkudi (Pechchipallam), c. 9th Century CE

three unidentified enthroned Jinas and a standing image of the Jain figure Gommateshvara. All eight reliefs are incised within their own oblong niche, and at least four exhibit an additional pointed architectural element that frames the figures. There are six inscriptions in Vatteluttu script that accompany these reliefs. According to P. B. Desai,29 one of the epigraphs identifies Gunamatiyar, the mother of Ajjanandi, as a patron of an image. The preceptor Gunasenadeva and a number of his pupils are also mentioned in three of the epigraphs, as is Gunasenadeva’s association with the monastery at Kuṛaṇḍi-Tirukkāmmāmpaḷḷi.30 Kilavalavu The monuments at Kilavalavu are often featured in newspaper and journal articles, as there is a growing concern over their protection from both granite quarrying and acts of vandalism.31 The site is located approximately 10 km north-east of Melur and near the village of Kilavalavu. The landscape of this area is somewhat different from that of the other monuments examined thus far, as the terrain is dominated by individual, large boulders atop an expansive granite formation. One of these boulders, highlighted by a series of rockcut steps that lead directly to it, provides shelter for a number of rock-cut beds. The beds are arranged in a circle around the base of the boulder that has been shaved down to better accommodate these spaces. A similar residence

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has been created under a boulder situated on an adjoining hill. There are over 50 beds between these two residences, indicating the presence of a large ascetic community. Only one early Tamil-Brahmi inscription survives, and it is located under a drip-ledge carved across the main boulder.32 Carved on one side of this boulder are three Jinas in relief. These images are partially obscured today by two modern stone pillars that were erected to secure a corrugated metal roof over the carvings. All three Jinas appear to be seated in meditation: one is seated on a throne while the other is depicted on a large double lotus, and the support for the third Jina is not carved. The three images are presented as a group and are about 6 m above the ground level. According to A. Ekambaranathan and C. K. Sivaprakasam,33 there are three Vatteluttu inscriptions that accompany these images and identify specific lay individuals. Given their high placement on the boulder, I was not able to examine or photograph these epigraphs. On the other side of the boulder, but only 1.5 m from the ground, is a series of six figures. All of them appear to be Jinas, though the final relief – a standing figure – is only partially executed. The other standing figure is clearly Parshvanatha. The remaining four Jinas are seated in meditation, and one of these carvings retains its yellow, red and green pigment within the sculpted panel. Three of the Jinas have elaborate throne-backs, fly-whisks (or flywhisk attendants), halos, and a triple umbrella. One of the seated images has naga (serpent) attendants who pay homage to the Jina. Stylistically, these images date to the late 9th or 10th century CE. Kongar Puliyankulam The ancient rock-cut beds at Kongar Puliyankulam are located approximately 15 km west of Madurai. This is another large monastery, with over 30 beds and three Tamil-Brahmi inscriptions.34 As at Alagarmalai, Arittapatti and Karungalakkudi, the material evidence for a 9th-century-CE reuse of this monastic residence rests primarily on a single carving of a Jina. The sculpture is carved at some distance from the beds and it has weathered considerably. It depicts an enthroned Jina flanked by two standing fly-whisk attendants with tall, conical crowns. The throne-back is carved with rearing vyalas (mythical horned lions). Above the Jina is a triple umbrella and curls of foliage that emerge from this element. The sculpture is carved within a rectangular niche and eight square holes are carved above the image, perhaps to support a canopy or structural shelter. Although Desai,35 and Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam36 state that there is a 9th-century-CE Vatteluttu inscription underneath this sculpture with the label ‘Sri Ajjanandi’, I could not find remains of this epigraph in my examinations. Muttupatti The monuments at Muttupatti are near Vadapalanji, less than 10 km west of Madurai. There are two areas of residence at this site. The first appears

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to have been formed from two adjoining boulders. The triangular space created by the intersection of these boulders contains a three-dimensional stone platform or bed that has a polished surface. Across the top is an inscription of c. 1st century BCE that provides the names of two donors.37 The second cavern is located nearby and is formed from a singular boulder that shelters a number of shallow beds carved in the supporting rock below. There are two Tamil-Brahmi inscriptions: one is carved across a series of three beds38 and the other is incised across the brow of the boulder.39 Carved high up on the boulder are two Jina images of c. late 9th or 10th century CE. The carvings are nearly identical in style and in their

Figure 5.5 Jina Images at Muttupatti, c. 9th or 10th Century CE

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iconographical elements that include a halo, a triple umbrella with vines of foliage carved above it, an elaborate lion throne with makara (crocodile) crossbar, and two crowned, fly-whisk attendants. The bodies of the Jinas reveal a fleshy midsection and both have elongated earlobes and downcast eyes. Beneath the Jinas are two donative inscriptions carved in Vatteluttu script.40 They record the names of the patrons who were disciples of Gunasenadeva and his teacher Kurandi Ashtopavasi-bhatara. One of the inscriptions also states that the image was made for the inhabitants of Kuyirkudi (Kilakuyilkudi). In addition to these images, a loose sculpture of a Jina is erected on a stone pedestal at the site. It is carved from a grey stone and likely dates to the 10th century CE. Tirupparankunram Although Tirupparankunram is mostly known for its carved reliefs and rockcut shrines to Murugan, Shiva, Vishnu, Durga, and Ganesha, this enormous granite outcrop, located 8 km south-west of Madurai, also features ancient Jain rock-cut beds and a few 9th-century-CE reliefs. The ancient beds are carved in a cleft on the western side of the hill. There are three Tamil-Brahmi inscriptions that record the names of lay donors.41 While there is no evidence for a later reuse of this specific residence, the hill itself remained important for Jains in the medieval period. Carved on the northern side of the hill are three 9th-century-CE reliefs. Two of the images are of the Jina Parshvanatha being attacked by the demon Sambara. Both reliefs feature the Jina with a canopy of serpent hoods and the goddess Padmavati who further shelters the Tirthankara with her parasol. Sambara, the rock-throwing demon, is found in the upper left corner of the reliefs. Below this figure is a kneeling male who pays homage to Parshvanatha. The third relief on this rock face depicts an enthroned Jina with four fly-whisk attendants and two flying celestials who hold giant lotus buds. The Jina is seated on a lion throne and is crowned with a triple umbrella. Vines of foliage are carved above the umbrella and rather than curling downwards, they appear to grow straight up. This adjustment was likely made to accommodate the elaborate flying celestials that hover in the upper corners of the relief. There are two prominent Vatteluttu donative inscriptions carved adjacent to these reliefs that identify the names of the donors.42 In addition, two other reliefs depicting the Jain figure Gommateshvara and the Jina Parshvanatha are also carved on the hill.43 However, I could not locate these images during my fieldwork. Uttamapalayam Uttamapalayam is the most distant site from Madurai, as it is located in Theni district, approximately 100 km to the west. It also somewhat stands apart from the other monuments in this case study, as it is not associated with ancient rock-cut beds. Instead, we find a colossal boulder that is carved with a total of 19 reliefs. All the images are of Jinas: eight reliefs of a standing Jina

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Figure 5.6 Medieval Carvings at Uttamapalayam, c. 9th or 10th Century CE

Parshvanatha and 11 seated, unidentifiable Jinas. Both thrones and double lotus pedestals are employed as supports for the seated figures. Given the sheer number of carvings, the absence of goddess imagery is striking. There are nine inscriptions found in association with Uttamapalayam.44 According to Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, one epigraph is found on a rock near the colossal boulder and registers a grant for the burning of a lamp.45 Unfortunately, I was not able to locate and examine this inscription in situ during my fieldwork. The remaining eight records are also donative in nature, but are carved directly on the boulder alongside the images. Although many of these records are no longer legible, we have the names of a few lay donors and their places of origin, as well as the name of preceptor Ajjanandi.

Madurai’s medieval Jain monuments While it seems clear that these 10 sites have much to offer in terms of reconstructing medieval Tamil Jain presence in Madurai – particularly in regard to specific lineages of teachers and aspects of devotional practice – curiously these sites have received only limited scholarly attention. As these monuments do not reveal architectural features commonly associated with the tradition of rock-cut architecture (such as pillared interiors and shrines),

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they have escaped the attention of most art historians interested in this medium.46 Moreover, epigraphists and historians who tend to focus on the content of the medieval inscriptions rarely correlate the donative record to its specific iconographic context. This is unfortunate, as it is only through the integration of the epigraphical and visual material that we can trace connections and developments in devotional and artistic practices across these 10 sites. Currently, I am engaged in such an endeavour with scholars who work extensively with Vatteluttu records. Although these sites have not been accorded much status in the study of India’s rock-cut monuments, this is not to say that they have been completely neglected. For example, in his edited volume Jaina Archaeological Heritage of Tamil Nadu (2005), Ekambaranathan recognises that the carvings at these sites are an important evidence for understanding medieval devotional practice. However, he interprets the addition of imagery at these sites to be a survival tactic for Jains against a much larger and dominating presence of Hindu devotionalism (bhakti). For example, Ekambaranathan states: Thus, the concerted efforts of bhakti-saints and royal support to Brahmanism affected the growth of Jainism in the 7th century A.D. However, soon it recovered from adversities and came to possess a fresh lease of life by adjusting itself to the circumstances and accommodating some elements from brahmanism. In this process of assimilation, Jainism admitted ritualistic and anthropomorphic worship of Tirthankaras and their attendant deities. Sometimes, prominence was given to the worship of yakshis like Ambika and Padmavati. The early Jaina caves which lost their importance in the wake of bhakti movement began to throb with religious activities in the 8th – 9th centuries and came to possess excellent images of Tirthankaras and yakshis, to which regular ritualistic worship had been performed. Lay devotees began to make endowments in the form of land, gold, sheep, etc., for the conduct of daily pujas to these icons and for the upkeep of the monastic establishments. The early abodes of Jaina mendicants, in course of time, thus, got metamorphosed into temples.47 In order to survive, Ekambaranathan argues, medieval Jains needed to assimilate Hindu worship practices, particularly the worship of anthropomorphic images. This immediately suggests that such practices were nonJain in origin. This viewpoint, commonly referred to as the ‘borrowing hypothesis’, has been challenged by many scholars, including John E. Cort,48 Kendall Folkert,49 Leslie Orr,50 and Janice Leoshko.51 These scholars have independently demonstrated that in the earliest sources available from the Jain tradition, there is evidence for an indigenous development of what we can call Jain bhakti. Indeed, the art historical record unquestionably demonstrates that image worship was – and continues to be – a powerful form of devotion for many

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Jains. Evidence for the worship of Jina images, for example, can be traced back to the 2nd and 1st centuries BCE, as found in stone sculptural productions from northern India, specifically Mathura.52 Much evidence survives in the form of Jina images and ayagapatas (homage tablets) that were produced in great quantity during the 1st through 3rd centuries CE. We can also consider the epigraphical evidence associated with these sculptures. In particular, ayagapatas are often carved with donative inscriptions that indicate that these tablets were set up for the worship of Jinas.53 By the 3rd century CE, interest in and support of Jina images (as well as sculptures of Jain deities) spread across the subcontinent and their worship became a well-established practice for both lay and monastic communities. Of significance, early donative inscriptions carved on images indicate that these artworks were often commissioned by members of the laity at the request or under the influence of high-ranking ascetics.54 However, it is the lack of imagery between the 1st and 8th centuries CE at these 10 Jain sites that seemingly supports the ‘borrowing hypothesis’. This ‘absence’, combined with the general acceptance of the ‘standard narrative’ discussed earlier, has resulted in an interpretation of this imagery as simply being a reaction to Hindu bhakti. In order to fit in with the current religious practices that increasingly emphasised the worship of deities in temples, as the hypothesis goes, Jains simply followed suit and, therefore, transformed their residences into places for image worship. While Jain art in southern India typically post-dates that in northern India, we do find brief descriptions of Jain temples constructed of brick, mortar and/or wood, in the post-Sangam epic literature.55 We also have evidence of image worship in Jain rock-cut caves in Tamil Nadu dating to the 7th and 8th centuries CE.56 However, the question still remains as to why an interest in imagery at these specific 10 sites did not manifest itself a bit earlier. R. Champakalakshmi has contributed the most to our knowledge of these sites. She has categorised the Jain rock-cut monuments of Tamil Nadu according to region, types of inscriptions, and approximate timespan of their occupation. According to her findings, the 10 sites in this case study were not continuously occupied.57 Both the visual and epigraphical evidence indicates a reuse starting in the 9th century CE. Thus, the images reflect contemporary 9th-century-CE Jain devotional practice. This departs from the case of a few other sites in Tamil Nadu that exhibit continued use from the early historical to early medieval periods. One of these sites is the rockcut residence and nearby cave-temple at Sittannavasal. Two other sites that exhibit continued use (starting in the 5th century CE) are Paraiyan Pattu and Tirunatharkunru, both located in South Arcot district. As the monuments at these two sites exhibit memorial stones (nisidhis) for Jain ascetics who had attained a ritual death through fasting (sallekhana), Champakalakshmi attests that their presence reveals early connections between Tamil Nadu and Karnataka. Of particular relevance is the site of Shravana Belgola in Karnataka which became the major place of pilgrimage for monks and nuns to perform a ritual death.58

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By the 9th century CE, Champakalakshmi argues, monks from the -nanda and -sena ganas at Shravana Belgola established their teaching lineages in Tamil Nadu.59 This is one of the reasons why we find the names of eminent monks with these suffixes in the inscriptional records from our 10 sites. She credits the preceptors Ajjanandi and Gunasenadeva, for example, with ‘reviving’ many of the early sites by adding imagery. She argues further that the impetus for image worship in Tamil Nadu stems from such practices that were prevalent at Shravana Belgola. Though these connections are important (and addressed later), ultimately Champakalakshmi adheres to the ‘borrowing hypothesis’ for Jain image worship. She simply places that process earlier on in Karnataka and links the worship of images to the dominant influence of Brahmanical traditions. She states: By the 9th century the Jains were elbowed out of the major royal centres and became confined to their hill abodes. Yet by adopting the Puranic tradition i.e., the revivalist activities of the Jain teachers from Sravana Belgola, especially Ajjanandi, these hill abodes were converted into regular Jain centres with temples and ritual forms of worship similar to the Brahmanical temples. The non-theistic Jainism became a highly theistic religion and developed a huge pantheon around the Tirthankaras to whom temples were dedicated.60 Importantly, there is evidence of interaction between one of our 10 sites and activities at Shravana Belgola, but this record is slightly later than our 9th-century-CE relief carvings. A 12th-century-CE Kannada inscription near the Pechchipallam reliefs at Kilakuyilkudi records the names of five monastic teachers, two of whom are identified as being from Shravana Belgola.61 The names of these two individuals are also found in association with a Parshvanatha temple on one of the hills at Shravana Belgola. Moreover, the Pechchipallam inscription documents the ritual fasting to death of these monks. This suggests that the site of Kilakuyilkudi was an important place in its own right and attracted monks from abroad for this ritual practice. It also suggests that we need to find alternative ways of looking at these sites as powerful visual statements of Tamil Jain identity and practice.

Moving forward Understanding these sites as places of Jain presence and devotional activity requires, in part, an analysis of how these images might have been worshipped. To my knowledge, scholars have simply assumed that these reliefs were created for such a purpose. As the donative inscriptions carved in association with these images contain only limited information on the practical aspects of worship, we must turn to other epigraphs to reconstruct Jain devotional activities. Orr has examined 369 Tamil inscriptions that date from the 5th to 13th centuries CE and are found in association with Jain material evidence.62 Out of these 369 records, 236 provide information in

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regard to worship. From these inscriptions, Orr categorises worship activities into four types: (a) the setting up of images (including Jinas, yakshis and Jain preceptors); (b) the construction and renovation of shrines/temples; (c) the establishment of lamps to be burned in front of images; and (d) arrangements for various worship services (arccanai) which include bathing, festival observances and the offering of foodstuffs and other items to images. At this point in my research, I have identified only one inscription from the 10 selected sites that directly addresses worship activities. This epigraph is from Uttamapalayam and its contents are discussed by Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam.63 The inscription records a grant for the perpetual burning of a lamp to Tirugunagirideva – ‘Lord of the Hill of Auspicious Qualities’.64 It is difficult to determine whether this ‘Lord of the Hill’ refers to one of the reliefs on the colossal boulder or to an image installed in a structural temple that no longer survives. Regardless of its exact reference, it is significant to note that the deity under worship is not specifically identified as a Jina or Tirthankara. This correlates with what Orr has discovered in other Jain records. Rather than identifying the images as Jinas, many medieval Tamil epigraphs simply employ the term tirumeni, ‘sacred image’ or ‘holy form’. Moreover, this term was not used exclusively by Jains, as it was popularly employed in medieval Tamil Shaiva literary contexts.65 Thus, scholarly attempts to identify specific Jinas at these sites (through epigraphical, textual and iconographical analyses) may actually lead us away from how these images were viewed during the medieval period. While the donation of a lamp and its perpetual burning is clearly an important part of medieval Tamil Jain worship, it is difficult to reconstruct how this and other acts were carried out at our 10 sites. For example, nearly all of the sites exhibit images that are for the most part inaccessible. They are carved high up on the boulders or rock-formations – a location that certainly prohibits activities, such as touching the images (as in limb puja) or lustration (abhisheka). While a lamp and other offerings could be made in front of the relief carvings, there are certainly more efficient ways to accommodate these practices, such as carving a rock-cut shrine to house an image. As traditional rock-cut shrines were not created at these sites, might there be other functions for this imagery apart from puja? The location of carved imagery high up on these rock outcrops suggests a more practical function in terms of visibly and immediately marking these sites as Jain. In many cases, the reliefs can be viewed from a fair distance away while climbing up the granite hilltop. Some of the residences and their reliefs, such as those at Anaimalai, Muttupatti, Kilakuyilkudi, and Tirupparankunram, provide distant views of other prominent hilltops. Could these sites possibly have mapped out a larger sacred Jain landscape – a landscape that was certainly connected through the teaching lineages of Ajjanandi and Gunasenadeva? Perhaps, this connection was then also physically played out in the selection of hills for these abodes surrounding Madurai. In fact, eight

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hills around Madurai have been traditionally identified as once supporting 8,000 Jains.66 While the figure of 8,000 is likely a convention to express a large community, there is no question about the number of prominent hills in this region. Using literary evidence and the landscape itself, scholars have identified four of these eight hills: Alagarmalai, Anaimalai, Kilakuyilkudi, and Tirupparankunram.67 While the other four remain unknown, they are likely among the sites in this case study. Moreover, it is also traditionally thought that if one travels to these eight places, one will not experience rebirth. Thus, these sites are also connected by means of their shared transformative power. A final note on thinking about the ways these reliefs might have functioned as effective, visual statements of Jain presence and identity (more so than as images for puja) is to consider them in the context of nearby Hindu rock-cut monuments. While it is true that some early Jain caves were subsequently transformed into Hindu places of worship,68 there are also numerous examples in the early medieval period of Jain and Hindu rock-cut monuments developing and/or existing simultaneously and serving as sacred places of worship for both communities. As I briefly mentioned in the individual site descriptions, the hill of Tirupparankunram has a long history as a multireligious site. A closer examination of this hill and its Hindu and Jain imagery should prove valuable in discerning notions of sanctity that may reveal more nuanced connections between these two groups. In addition, the c. 9th-century-CE reliefs at Anaimalai and Arittapatti can be viewed as visual re-affirmations of Jain presence on these hills, especially since Hindus also worshipped here, as evidenced by at least three rock-cut caves created in the 7th and 8th centuries CE.69 Rather than viewing the multireligious nature of these sites in terms of opposition or competition (an interpretation fuelled by the ‘standard narrative’), we can, perhaps, explore how these encounters point towards complex ways in which these traditions interacted and defined themselves within the medieval Tamil landscape.

Notes 1 Iravatham Mahadevan, Tamil-Brahmi Inscriptions, Madras: State Department of Archaeology, Government of Tamil Nadu, 1970, p. 14. 2 R. Champakalakshmi, Religion, Tradition, and Ideology: Pre-colonial South India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2011, p. 375. 3 For a discussion of the ways in which the scholarship on Jainism also tends to emphasise ascetic practices over other expressions of religiosity, see John E. Cort, ‘Bhakti in the Early Jain Tradition: Understanding Devotional Religion in South Asia’, History of Religions, 2002, 42(1): 59–86; ‘Singing the Glory of Asceticism: Devotion of Asceticism in Jainism’, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 2002, 70(4): 719–42. 4 Gommateshvara, also known as Bahubali, is the first human being of this world age to achieve omniscience. He is said to have stood in a meditative posture for so long that vines grew around his body. It is this iconographical element that distinguishes images of Gommateshvara from sculptures of standing Jinas.

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5 Richard H. Davis, ‘The Story of the Disappearing Jains: Retelling the Śaiva: Jain Encounter in Medieval South India’, in John E. Cort (ed.), Open Boundaries: Jain Communities and Cultures in Indian History, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998, pp. 213–24. 6 Leslie C. Orr, ‘Jain Worship in Medieval Tamil Nadu’, in N. K. Wagle and Olle Qvarnström (eds.), Approaches to Jaina Studies: Philosophy, Logic, Rituals and Symbols, Toronto: University of Toronto Centre for South Asian Studies, 1999, pp. 250–74. 7 Davis, ‘The Story of the Disappearing Jains’, p. 216. 8 Ibid. 9 Orr, ‘Jain Worship’. 10 My fieldwork in Tamil Nadu was supported by a Senior Short-Term Fellowship from the American Institute of Indian Studies (AIIS), Gurgaon, Delhi. In addition to the administrators and staff at AIIS, I am grateful to my supervisor, Y. Subbarayalu, Head of the Department of Indology at the French Institute of Pondicherry, for encouraging me to visit a few more sites than I originally intended to. In addition, I would like to thank C. Santhalingam, formerly with Tamil Nadu State Department of Archaeology, who not only visited these sites with me, but also shared his insights on ancient Jain epigraphy, culture and art. 11 Iravatham Mahadevan, Early Tamil Epigraphy from the Earliest Times to the Start of the Sixth Century A.D., Chennai, Cre-A; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003, pp. 368–83. 12 A. Ekambaranathan and C. K. Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions in Tamilnadu: A Topographical List, Madras: Research Foundation for Jainology, 1987, pp. 151–2. 13 Mahadevan, Early Tamil Epigraphy, pp. 402–3. 14 Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, pp. 153–9. 15 Ibid., pp. 155–6. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 Mahadevan, Early Tamil Epigraphy, pp. 324–5. 19 Ibid., pp. 364–5. 20 Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, pp. 162–3. 21 Ibid. While the Sanskrit term vimana is relatively common in Agamic literature to designate a temple, interestingly, it is rarely used in medieval Tamil epigraphs. For more frequently used terms (and their meanings), see Leslie C. Orr, ‘Words for Worship: Tamil and Sanskrit in Medieval Temple Inscriptions’, in Whitney Cox and Vincenzo Vergiani (eds.), Bilingual Discourse and Cross-Cultural Fertilisation: Sanskrit and Tamil in Medieval India, Pondicherry: Institut Français de Pondichéry and École française d’Extrême-Orient, 2013, pp. 325–57. 22 Ibid., p. 162. 23 T. S. Subramanian, ‘2,200-Year-Old Tamil-Brahmi Inscription Found on Samanamalai’, The Hindu, 24 March 2012, www.thehindu.com/arts/history-and-culture/ article3220674.ece (accessed on 14 February 2013). 24 Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, p. 166. 25 R. Champakalakshmi, ‘Kuṛaṇḍi Tirukkāmmāmpaḷḷi, an Ancient Jaina Monastery of Tamil Nadu’, Studies in Indian Epigraphy, Bhāratīya Purābhilekha Patrikā, 1975, 2: 84. 26 P. B. Desai, Jainism in South India and Some Jaina Epigraphs, Sholapur: Jaina Saṁskṛti Saṁrakśaka Saṅgha, 1957, p. 58. 27 Leslie C. Orr, ‘Identity and Divinity: Boundary-Crossing Goddesses in Medieval South India’, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 2005, 73(1): 18. 28 This form of Dharanendra is also found at the medieval Jain rock-cut site of Kalugumalai. See Lisa N. Owen, ‘Demarcating Sacred Space: The Jina Images at Kalugumalai’, International Journal of Jaina Studies, 2010, 6(4): 1–28.

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29 Desai, Jainism in South India, p. 59. 30 Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, pp. 187–92. 31 T. S. Subramanian, ‘History Vandalized’, Frontline, 2009, 26(14), www.frontlineonnet. com/fl2614/stories/20090717261406600.htm (accessed on 14 February 2013); S. S. Kavita, ‘Namma Madurai: History Hidden Inside a Cave’, The Hindu, 31 October 2012, www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/namma-madurai-history-hidden-insidea-cave/article4051011.ece (accessed on 14 February 2013). 32 Mahadevan, Early Tamil Epigraphy, pp. 330–1. 33 Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, pp. 171–3. 34 Mahadevan, Early Tamil Epigraphy, pp. 332–5. 35 Desai, Jainism in South India, p. 58. 36 Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, p. 176. 37 Mahadevan, Early Tamil Epigraphy, pp. 394–5. 38 Ibid., p. 397. 39 Ibid. 40 Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, pp. 186–7. 41 Mahadevan, Early Tamil Epigraphy, pp. 390–3. 42 Personal communication with C. Santhalingam. 43 R. Champakalakshmi, ‘Monuments and Sculptures 300 B.C. to A.D. 300: South India’, in A. Ghosh (ed.), Jaina Art and Architecture, vol. 1, New Delhi: Bharatiya Jnanpith, 1974, p. 98. 44 Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, pp. 198–205. 45 Ibid. 46 For a discussion of the scholarly neglect of other medieval Jain rock-cut sites in Tamil Nadu, see Owen, ‘Demarcating Sacred Space’. 47 A. Ekambaranathan, Jaina Archaeological Heritage of Tamilnadu, Lucknow: Shri Bharatvarshiya Digamber Jain (Teerth Sanrakshini) Mahasabha, 2005, pp. 29–30. 48 John E. Cort, ‘Medieval Jaina Goddess Traditions’, Numen, 1983, 34: 235–55; ‘Bhakti in the Early Jain Tradition’; ‘Singing the Glory of Asceticism’; Framing the Jina: Narratives of Icons and Idols in Jain History, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. 49 Kendall W. Folkert, ‘Jain Religious Life at Ancient Mathurā: The Heritage of Late Victorian Interpretation’, in Doris Meth Srinivasan (ed.), Mathurā: The Cultural Heritage, New Delhi: American Institute of Indian Studies, 1989, pp. 103–12. 50 Orr, ‘Jain Worship’. 51 Janice Leoshko, ‘Reviewing Early Jaina Art’, in N. K. Wagle and Olle Qvarnström (eds.), Approaches to Jaina Studies: Philosophy, Logic, Rituals and Symbols, Toronto: University of Toronto Centre for South Asian Studies, 1999, pp. 324–41. 52 Ibid.; Sonya Rhie Quintanilla, History of Early Stone Sculpture at Mathura, ca. 150 BCE-100 CE, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2007. 53 Sonya Rhie Quintanilla, ‘Āyāgapaṭas: Characteristics, Symbolism, and Chronology’, Artibus Asiae, 2000, 60: 79–137. 54 Leoshko, ‘Reviewing Early Jaina Art’, p. 336; Cort, ‘Bhakti in the Early Jain Tradition’, p. 69. 55 Champakalakshmi, ‘Monuments and Sculptures’, p. 95. 56 K. R. Srinivasan, ‘Monuments and Sculpture A.D. 600 to 1000: South India’, in A. Ghosh (ed.), Jaina Art and Architecture, vol. 2, New Delhi: Bharatiya Jnanpith, 1975, pp. 208–11. 57 R. Champakalakshmi, ‘From Natural Caverns to Rock-Cut and Structural Temples: The Changing Context of Jain Religious Tradition in Tamil Nadu’, in Airāvati: Felicitation Volume in Honour of Iravatham Mahadevan, Chennai: Varalaaru.com, 2008, pp. 29–30. 58 S. Settar, Inviting Death: Indian Attitude towards the Ritual Death, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1989.

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59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

Champakalakshmi, ‘From Natural Caverns’, p. 18. Ibid., pp. 22–3. Champakalakshmi, ‘Kuṛaṇḍi Tirukkāṭṭāmpaḷḷi’, p. 85. Orr, ‘Jain Worship’. Ekambaranathan and Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions, pp. 198–9. Ibid. Personal communication with Anne Monius. D. Devakunjari, Madurai through the Ages: From the Earliest Times to 1801 A.D., Madras: Society for Archeological, Historical and Epigraphical Research, 1979, p. 102. 67 Personal communication with C. Santhalingam. 68 Srinivasan, ‘Monuments and Sculpture’, pp. 208–9. 69 There are two caves at Anaimalai close to the 9th-century-CE Jain carvings: a rock-cut shrine dedicated to Narasimha and a small, pillared cave associated with Subrahmanya. At Arittapatti, there is an 8th-century-CE cave dedicated to Shiva on the west side of the hill.

Select references Champakalakshmi, R., ‘Monuments and Sculptures 300 B.C. to A.D. 300: South India’, in A. Ghosh (ed.), Jaina Art and Architecture, vol. 1, New Delhi: Bharatiya Jnanpith, 1974, pp. 92–103. ———, ‘Kuṛaṇḍi Tirukkāṭṭāmpaḷḷi, an Ancient Jaina Monastery of Tamil Nadu’, Studies in Indian Epigraphy, Bhāratīya Purābhilekha Patrikā, 1975, 2: 84–90. ———, ‘From Natural Caverns to Rock-Cut and Structural Temples: The Changing Context of Jain Religious Tradition in Tamil Nadu’, in Airâvati: Felicitation Volume in Honour of Iravatham Mahadevan, Chennai: Varalaaru.com, 2008, pp. 13–35. ———, Religion, Tradition, and Ideology: Pre-Colonial South India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2011. Cort, John E., ‘Medieval Jaina Goddess Traditions’, Numen, 1983, 34: 235–55. ———, ‘Bhakti in the Early Jain Tradition: Understanding Devotional Religion in South Asia’, History of Religions, 2002, 42(1): 59–86. ———, ‘Singing the Glory of Asceticism: Devotion of Asceticism in Jainism’, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 2002, 70(4): 719–42. ———, Framing the Jina: Narratives of Icons and Idols in Jain History, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Davis, Richard H., ‘The Story of the Disappearing Jains: Retelling the Śaiva-Jain Encounter in Medieval South India’, in John E. Cort (ed.), Open Boundaries: Jain Communities and Cultures in Indian History, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998, pp. 213–24. Desai, P. B., Jainism in South India and Some Jaina Epigraphs, Sholapur: Jaina Saṁskṛti Saṁrakśaka Saṅgha, 1957. Devakunjari, D., Madurai through the Ages: From the Earliest Times to 1801 A.D., Madras: Society for Archeological, Historical and Epigraphical Research, 1979. Ekambaranathan, A. (ed.), Jaina Archaeological Heritage of Tamilnadu, Lucknow: Shri Bharatvarshiya Digamber Jain (Teerth Sanrakshini) Mahasabha, 2005. Ekambaranathan, A. and C. K. Sivaprakasam, Jaina Inscriptions in Tamilnadu: A Topographical List, Madras: Research Foundation for Jainology, 1987. Folkert, Kendall W., ‘Jain Religious Life at Ancient Mathurā: The Heritage of Late Victorian Interpretation’, in Doris Meth Srinivasan (ed.), Mathurā: The Cultural Heritage, New Delhi: American Institute of Indian Studies, 1989, pp. 103–12.

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Ghosh, A. (ed.), Jaina Art and Architecture, 3 vols, New Delhi: Bharatiya Jnanpith, 1974–75. Kavita, S. S., ‘Namma Madurai: History Hidden Inside a Cave’, The Hindu, 31 October 2012, www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/nammamadurai-history-hidden-inside-acave/article4051011.ece (accessed on 14 February 2013). Leoshko, Janice, ‘Reviewing Early Jaina Art’, in N. K. Wagle and Olle Qvarnström (eds.), Approaches to Jaina Studies: Philosophy, Logic, Rituals and Symbols, Toronto: University of Toronto Centre for South Asian Studies, 1999, pp. 324–41. Mahadevan, Iravatham, Tamil-Brahmi Inscriptions, Madras: State Department of Archaeology, Government of Tamil Nadu, 1970. ———, Early Tamil Epigraphy from the Earliest Times to the Start of the Sixth Century A.D., Chennai, Cre-A and Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003. Orr, Leslie C., ‘Jain Worship in Medieval Tamil Nadu’, in N. K. Wagle and Olle Qvarnström (eds.), Approaches to Jaina Studies: Philosophy, Logic, Rituals and Symbols, Toronto: University of Toronto Centre for South Asian Studies, 1999, pp. 250–74. ———, ‘Identity and Divinity: Boundary-Crossing Goddesses in Medieval South India’, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 2005, 73(1): 9–43. ———, ‘Words for Worship: Tamil and Sanskrit in Medieval Temple Inscriptions’, in Whitney Cox and Vincenzo Vergiani (eds.), Bilingual Discourse and CrossCultural Fertilisation: Sanskrit and Tamil in Medieval India, Pondicherry: Institut Français de Pondichéry and École française d’Extrême-Orient, 2013, pp. 325–57. Owen, Lisa N., ‘Demarcating Sacred Space: The Jina Images at Kalugumalai’, International Journal of Jaina Studies, 2010, 6(4): 1–28. Quintanilla, Sonya Rhie, ‘Āyāgapaṭas: Characteristics, Symbolism, and Chronology’, Artibus Asiae, 2000, 60: 79–137. ———, History of Early Stone Sculpture at Mathura, ca. 150 BCE-100 CE, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2007. Settar, S., Inviting Death: Indian Attitude towards the Ritual Death, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1989. Srinivasan, K. R., ‘Monuments and Sculpture A.D. 600 to 1000: South India’, in A. Ghosh (ed.), Jaina Art and Architecture, vol. 2, New Delhi: Bharatiya Jnanpith, 1975, pp. 207–30. Subramanian, T. S., ‘History Vandalized’, Frontline, 2009, 26(14), www.frontlineonnet. com/fl2614/stories/20090717261406600.htm (accessed on 14 February 2013). ———, ‘2,200-Year-Old Tamil-Brahmi Inscription Found on Samanamalai’, The Hindu, 24 March 2012, www.thehindu.com/arts/history-and-culture/article3220674. ece (accessed on 14 February 2013).

6

Of saffron, snow and spirituality Glimpses of cultural geography in the Rājataraṅgiṇī Shonaleeka Kaul

This chapter revisits Kalhaṇa’s Rājataraṅgiṇī, the celebrated 12th-century Sanskrit classic, and examines its representation of a regional space, Kashmir. A chronicle of the royal dynasties of Kashmir from the earliest times to the author’s own time, the text has traditionally been studied as political history and also for interspersed information on the ‘society’ and ‘economy’ of the kingdom. Here I interrogate the text as cultural history, with special reference to its representation of the physical features of the land and the range of cultural constructions put on these through myth and memory. To do this is to view the land as landscape, that is, to understand geography as overlaid by narrative. This is central to assessing the processes by which the Rājataraṅgiṇīcomposes Kashmir as a regional entity, even as it does so through a medium that is generally not understood to have served vernacular expression, namely the ‘Cosmopolitan’ Sanskrit kāvya. In fact, as I have argued elsewhere,1 this apparent discrepancy between vernacular subject and cosmopolitan medium is of the essence in interpreting the Rājataraṅgiṇī, whether it is its political, social or cultural aspect that is under study. Specifically for our purpose, it is a key to identifying the regional and transregional traditions and influences that have gone into the making of Kalhaṇa’s Kashmir. This chapter proceeds with the understanding that the interplay between the universal and the particular frames the literary composition of Kashmir as a space in the Rājataraṅgiṇī. Much of this literary portrayal would constitute what Diana Eck in a panIndian context has called ‘imagined landscape’: myths, stories and associations built around natural forces and natural features – mountains, rivers and their confluences, lakes and springs, fields and embankments, swamps and precipices, storms and floods – which generate a sense of ‘place’ and region, and a rootedness in the land.2 These myths could be local lore or they could be derived subcontinentally from Epic and Purāṇic archetypes, weaving together gods, demigods, kings, peoples, and places. They filled out and lent tradition to the land that was Kashmir, anchoring and orienting its people not only to their own physical world but willy nilly to the moral that inhered in these constructed and preserved memories. On the strength of the Rājataraṅgiṇī and its 7th-century predecessor, the Nīlamata Purāṇa, upon

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which it deeply draws, it is possible to say that true to the pan-Indian pattern, mythology and geography in Kashmir were ‘a joint imaginative and descriptive undertaking’.3 Geographical knowledge was ‘grounded in the mythical apprehension of the world’s meaning and order’,4 even as myth-making itself was resonant with the natural/geographical markers of the land. While the connection between myths and regional identity-formation is not new and has been documented for various parts of the Indian subcontinent, it is not so in the case of the representation of Kashmir in the Rājataraṅgiṇī5 where the occurrence of myths in the narrative has tended to cause much consternation among historians and other scholars who view it as a disruption of the text’s otherwise historical character and spirit.6 But it can be argued that ‘objective’ history has had perhaps less to do with a sense of regional belonging than subjective traditions and associations, such as not only myths but also legends and stereotypes about the land and its people that gain currency often precisely through textualisation. That the Rājataraṅgiṇī, displays this tendency, specific to it as a kāvya, for conjuring the distinctiveness of Kashmir has received little scholarly notice. I refer to the use of rhetoric and imagery at various points in the text in a manner highly evocative of the local and the folk. This is significant even from the point of view of literary history, since it involved the invention and deployment of descriptions, similes and analogies which were, as we will see, unique to the Kashmiri context. This should qualify the image of Sanskrit kāvya as a reified literary genre rigidly wedded to stock conventions and figures. The Rājataraṅgiṇī is a splendid example of how Sanskritkāvya adopted and adapted local motifs, locales and content to a translocal poetics, and served as a vehicle of regional literary expression. So what do we know about the Rājataraṅgiṇī’s composition of the landscape of Kashmir? To begin with, in the text there is a clear sense of chronicling a distinct spatial unit or region (deśa, maṇḍala), with which the author identifies himself and his protagonists. This is done by emphasising belonging to the land through the use of terms like ‘his own land’ (svadeśa),7 ‘his birthplace’ (janmabhūmi), as well as by stating the specialty of the land through terms like ‘this unique land’8 and the enumeration of its special features in various ways, which we will see. Also asserted are the twin notions of ‘one’s own country’ (svadeśa) versus ‘others’ countries’ (videśa).9 Kalhaṇa deploys several markers of this space but does not attempt to spell out boundaries of Kashmir, since those seem to be a given in the text, coinciding, as they did, with an inter-montane valley. That there were cognisable boundaries, however, is undoubtable from references to the frontier of Kashmir (kaśmīradvāra)10 and to approaching, entering or exiting the territory of Kashmir; as also to a distinct people called the Kashmiris as opposed to those of neighbouring territories, including Rājapurī (Rajouri),11 Darad (Chitral and Gilgit),12 Trigarta (Kangra), Campā (Chamba), Madra and Darvābhisāra (Punjab),13 and wider afield, as distinct from the Turuṣkas,14 Khaśas,15 Tuhkhāras, and the like.16 As a character is made to say: ‘“This

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is my land, this is alien land”, such is the urge in the minds of beings due to habitual residence, the association of ideas, and the practice of exclusion (svadeśoyam videśoyamiti buddheḥ pravartakaḥ anvayavyatirekābhyām sthityabhyāsaḥ śarīrinām)’.17 Of course, borders of the kingdom may have shifted in minor ways from time to time as a result of war, but expansion of influence rather than of territory was more often the result. Broadly, the text brings with it a sense of the land of Kashmir being the one traversed by the Vitastā (Jhelum) river. Indeed, in the Rājataraṅgiṇī the markers of the space of Kashmir seem to be nebulous natural phenomena that exhibited a certain omnipresence and influence in the valley. The foremost of these are the waters of Kashmir, a recurrent element in one form or the other in the text. Water is the originary motif in the heavily Purāṇic cosmogonic account of the valley that the Rājataraṅgiṇī replays. Following the account in the Nīlamata Purāṇa, it speaks of the Satīsaras or lake of Satī, the ‘land in the womb of the Himalayas . . . filled with waters for six manvantaras’, which, when drained by the gods at the behest of sage Kaśyapa, and rid of the resident hydel demon, Jalodbhava (literally, ‘emerged from water’), came to be the site where the maṇḍala or the kingdom of Kashmir was founded.18 The very name Kashmir is said to carry within it the syllable for water, ‘ka’.19 This is the first of several myths in Kalhaṇa’s narrative relating to the physiography of Kashmir that combines geology and tradition. For we know that the geomorphologic formation of the valley did occur from an ancient lake, evidently a memory preserved in myth. Moreover, the valley did not drain out completely and a number of residual seasonal lakes and pools have remained in Kashmir,20 Known was nāgas. And so in the Rājataraṅgiṇī too, Kashmir is described as ‘the resort of the Nāgas’, ‘the territory which is under the protection of Nīla, supremee lord of all the Nāgas (tutelary spring deities), whose parasol is the swelling Nīla kuṇḍa (modern Verinaga) with the flowing waters of the Vitastā (Jhelum) for its staff’.21 The river Vitastā herself is associated with goddess Pārvatī whom she embodies,22 in a classic illustration of Purāṇic transformation of stock mythological material to serve a local situational context.23 The first taraṅga then proceeds with the casting of a bird’s eye over the physiography of Kashmir. This is a selective and suggestive survey held up by poetic claims, not a cartographic one, but evocative and effective nonetheless. Kashmir’s identity with mountains is declared in a straightforward way. It is called ‘the country magnificent with its mountains’.24 Mountain ramparts are described as the arms of Kashmir stretched out for safeguarding the Nāgas, and the king of Kashmir is, in turn, described as the ‘guardian of the mountains’.25 This would count not simply as a naturalistic reference but also a symbolic one, since mountains are typically imbued with mythic sanctity in India. As Eck writes, the transposition of Himalayan peaks from the north to other parts of India was/is a widespread motif of sanctification.26 For Kashmir, however, no such transposition was needed; the Himalayas

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and the northern direction were already features of the land. Asserting this claim to sacred terrain would then ring particularly true for Kashmir and simultaneously serve to create a sense of place. Thus, the Rājataraṅgiṇī says: ‘In the three worlds the earth, the producer of jewels, is worthy of praise, and on it, the North, the direction of the lord of wealth; there again the mountain, the father of Pārvatī [Himalaya] is praiseworthy and within it, the country of Kashmir’.27 Elsewhere it is claimed: ‘To the mighty Gonanda, king of Kashmir, the [northern] direction, of which the dazzling Kailāśa is the smile and the tossing Gangā the scarf, rendered homage’.28 The Purāṇic influence, again, is at work in Kalhaṇa’s scheme to sanctify the entire topography by merging the physical geography of the land with the sacred geography. Thus, a description of the rivers, lakes and mountain peaks of Kashmir is interspersed seamlessly with an enumeration of the many tīrthasor shrines and pilgrimage spots that accompany the physical features of the land. Thus, we are told of the sanctuaries of Pāpasūdana, Nandikṣetra, Cakrabhṛt, Vijayeśa, Ādikeśava, and Īśāna, and of the hill of goddess Śāradā near the confluence of rivers Madhumatī and Sarasvatī, and the Bheḍa mountain atop which resides goddess Sarasvatī as a swan in a lake. In sum, we are told of how ‘in that country adorned by [these] . . . there is not so much land as covered by a sesamum seed which is profane’.29 The concluding rhetorical flourish apart, the naming of this string of shrines was not mere mechanical enumeration but would have struck a chord with knowing audiences, immediately conjuring the region that these collectively mapped. More on Kashmir’s pilgrimage economy later; suffice it to note for now that this close association of the very land of Kashmir with spiritual merit initiates a discourse of ‘the presence of piety and absence of sin’ (puṇyapāpānā manvayavyatiḥ.),30 which was perhaps meant to set the stage for Kalhaṇa’s ethicised commentary to unfold. Returning to the water motif, the other form in which water dominates the physical landscape of Kashmir is floods. Toyaviplava or havoc caused by water is a recurrent theme even in this largely political narrative, showing up as something successive kings from early on grappled with.31 The devastation caused by inundation, ‘which turned the land into a sheet of water’,32 and its aftermath, famine, are described by Kalhaṇa.33 The measures to drain out the floodwaters of the Mahāpadma or Wular lake inundating the entire length of the country, launched under king Avantivarman by an uncommon commoner Suyya, stand out as the most successful, and are reminiscent of the original draining of the lake that was Kashmir – even to Kalhaṇa’s mind. Indeed, in a beautiful and clever bit of poetic association of the historical with the mythological, Kalhaṇa exclaims: ‘Neither Kaśyapa nor Sankarṣaṇa conferred such benefits on this realm as Suyya of memorable acts did with ease. . . . What Viṣṇu achieved in four incarnations of righteous acts, Suyya, who had a mass of religious merit, [achieved] in one birth only’.34 He set up stone barrages on the Vitastā and constructed multiple new channels for her floodwaters, so that ‘the river shone like a black snake with numerous

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hoods on one body’. As a result, Kalhaṇa tells us, the holy confluence of the Sindhu (Indus) and Vitastā which was in Trigrāmī shifted for all times into the precincts of Śrīnagara.35 While the shrines of Viṣṇusvāmin and Vainyasvāmin existed at the old site, that of Hṛṣikeśayogaśayin developed at the new location. Suyya, ‘having reclaimed land from water like the primeval boar .  .  . founded all types of villages teeming with numerous people, rich in all provisions, provided with an irrigation system depending on their soil type and requirement, giving rise to splendid and bounteous crops’.36 The people called the villages so formed kuṇḍala (earrings) because the dykes lent the new land the shape of earrings. Suyya thus altered the physical as well as social and demographic landscape in significant ways. Kalhaṇa describes him as the ‘lord of food personified (annapati)’.37 For our purposes, he is symbolic of human intervention and manipulation of the topography of Kashmir, a fact that Kalhaṇa underlines. A related force of nature that characterises the space of Kashmir both in and out of the Rājataraṅgiṇī is heavy snowfall (mahāhimapāta).38 It emerges as a recurrent calamity that visits the subjects of the kingdom of Kashmir and even its soldiers when they are out on military expeditions. On one such occasion, ‘smitten by chilly winds and sinking in the muddy fields, soldiers abandoned horses and armour and behaved like the lower animals’39 or simply had their routes become impassable through accumulation of snow.40 ‘The mass of snow seemed to the royal army as if it were shaped like death’s couch of cotton; the troops lived in perpetual dread of snowfall’.41 Snow also emerges as verily a factor in the success or failure of the innumerable sieges and conspiracies that fill Kalhaṇa’s chronicle; most spectacularly, King Sussala defeats the forces of the rebel Bhikṣācāra when sudden snowfall immobilises the latter’s forces.42 Most of all, Kalhaṇa speaks of the ‘grim and awful terror’ (mahābhaya ghora) of the famine that follows the blight of untimely snowfall.43 Interestingly, precipitation is represented as a variant of Kashmir’s obsession with the water motif: snow, hail and torrents of rain are presented as the doings of the Nāgas, the tutelary spring deities, who are, therefore, metaphorically accused of ‘carrying away the harvest’ and even personified in one episode as thieves who the peasants, fearing for their crops, drive ‘into the zone of the king’s impetuous wrath’.44 Snowfall is also associated with quasi-divine justice when it comes down to punish, as it were, the bhikṣus (Buddhist monks) in the kingdom for their acts which were extinguishing the ritual order of the Nāgas. We may note that the rites of the Nāgas are early in the text, and obviously under the influence of the Nīlamata Purāṇa characterised as the natural ritual order of the land. In the first taraṅga, a time is described during and just after the reign of the Kuṣāṇas when the kingdom of Kashmir was, for the most part, an appanage of the Buddhists .  .  . who were opponents of the Vedas [and] having

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defeated all the learned men in open debate, had cut at the root of the religious rites prescribed in the Nīlamata Purāṇa. The country having drifted into confusion about the customary observances (viluptācāra), the Nāgas, whose sacrificial offerings had been cut off, caused loss of human life by heavy falls of snow. . . . Heavy snowfall occurred year after year for the harassment of the Buddhists (bauddhabādhāya). . . . King Gonanda III meanwhile attained sovereignty. He restored the performance of pilgrimages, sacrifices and other worship of the Nāgas (yātrāyāgādi nāgānām) such as was customary in the past. When the king had once more promulgated the observances which had their origin in Nīla, the peril from the bhikṣus and the peril from snowfall abated everywhere.45 Here is a memory of ritual traditions in conflict and the resultant cultural confusion which is consciously correlated with an endemic natural phenomenon, snowfall. Restoration of the Puraṇic ritual order was accompanied by the normalisation of the natural order, with obvious implications for underlining the normativity of the former. In the discussion on rituals, references in the Rājataraṅgiṇī to specific, apparently popular practices bear mention. Chief among these were pilgrimages accompanied by much festivity (yātrāmahotsava). These were not just centred around the great gods, like the Śivarātri mahotsava,46 but also devoted to folk deities. For instance, Kalhaṇa mentions the ‘great festival of the pilgrimage of Takṣaka, teeming with dancers and strolling players and a concourse of sightseers’ which took place on the 12th day of the dark half of Jyeṣṭha.47 Takṣaka Nāga was the patron saint of saffron fields and worshipped in like fashion at the sacred spring in Zevan, just outside Srinagar, down into the modern period.48 A Kashmiri funeral procession is also imaged as part of an analogy: ‘In this land there is a day in the month of Bhādra on which [people] start on a journey to a sanctuary (tīrtha) with the ashes of the dead when all the directions ring with the wailing of women’.49 The centrality of the Nāgas to the mythology of Kashmir is well known. What is less clear is whether the Nāgas can be said to symbolise any social group like ‘original’ inhabitants of Kashmir co-opted by Purāṇic Brahmanism. It would be much more appropriate and consistent with the varied portrayals of the Nāgas in the Rājataraṅgiṇī – sometimes deities, sometimes lords of the land, at other times serpents, or personified forces of nature especially related to water bodies and precipitation – to regard them as a motif or literary device. Fluid, changeable, ubiquitous, yet revered, the Nāgas were classic myth-builders. This is especially relevant to the way stories woven around them and enacted through their physical and moral agency construct the ‘imagined landscape’ of Kashmir. The major example of this in the Rājataraṅgiṇī is the story of Suśravas Nāga which is described as ‘the legend (katheyam) recalled by the people to this very day’.50 Suśravas’ daughter, Candralekhā, married off t o a brāhmaṇa, is sighted and coveted by the wicked king Kinnara of Kashmir. When he attempts to

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have her carried away by force, the couple seeks asylum at Suśravas’ abode, a pool. In the words of Kalhaṇa: [W]hen the facts were reported to him, the lord of the Nāgas, blind with rage, sallied forth from the pool. Having caused a blinding darkness from the fearful clouds which thundered, he burnt down the king together with the city by a terrific shower of boulders. . . . Thousands of human beings who had entered through terror the shrine of Cakradhara for refuge, were burnt down in a trice. . . . The sister of Suśravas, the nāga lady from a cave in the Ramaṇya mountain, . . . [also] dropped a shower of boulders on the villages. Five yojanas of rural land was thus laid waste and is known as Ramaṇyāṭavī; it is to even this day full of heavy boulders and holes.51 The next day, however, Suśravas was full of remorse and leaving the locality, moved to a distant mountain where he built a lake ‘gleaming like the ocean of milk’. This lake, we are told, ‘on their way to the pilgrimage of Amarnath is visited by the people to this very day’. Moreover, his son-in-law, the brāhmaṇa, who had become a Nāga through the favour of Suśravas, built another lake in the locality ‘celebrated as the lake of the son-in-law (jāmātṛsaras)’.52 Fascinatingly, not only is the pilgrimage to the Amarnath cave a thriving popular tradition of modern India, the two lakes referred to continue to exist and be known as the white-watered Sheshnag and the Zamaturnag, respectively. The interweaving of geography, myth, ritual and folklore is thus brilliantly exemplified in this tale. And that is not all; it is overlaid with a major moral lesson in the Rājataraṅgiṇī, i.e., that through passionate lust, protectors (kings) often became destroyers of their own people, and ‘as a result of the anger of a virtuous woman, the gods, or a brāhmaṇa, one hears in diverse accounts (vṛttānta) of the upheaval even of the three worlds’.53 This, then, is also what is meant to be ‘recalled by the people’ (and the audience of the Rājataraṅgiṇīwhen ‘they see the debris of that city and the dry depression near Cakradhara’. Another Nāga we hear prominently of apart from Nīla and Suśravas is Mahāpadma. He is the resident of a massive lake today known as Wulur (probably from Sanskrit Ullol),54 floods in which were responsible for regular upheavals in both the kramarājya and the maḍavarājya, or lower and upper parts of the Kashmir valley along the course of the Vitastā. Suyya’s measures were directed against floods in the Mahāpadma, as we have discussed.55 In the major episode to do with Mahāpadma Nāga from the time of king Jayāpīḍa, he is clearly shown as a snake ‘with a human face’, and is shown applying to the king for help against a ‘Dravidian spell monger’ who wanted to drain his lake and sell the Nāga to marudeśa (desert) or the land that yearned for water.56 When the king does not at first protect him and ends up toying with him instead, it offers Kalhaṇa the opportunity for a

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stringent critique of ‘the thoughtless conduct of kings who are blinded by the intoxication of sovereignty’; the critique is duly planted as a monologue in the mouth of an indignant Mahāpadma.57 The Vitastā and the Mahāpadma emerge as the two water bodies that dominate the life of the land. That certain natural forces like floods and snowstorms, and consequently famine, were endemic to the cultural geography of Kashmir is shown by how these phenomena creep into the very literary devices Kalhaṇa employs from time to time in his Kashmiri tale. Thus, there are similes and analogies invoking the imagery of, for instance, ‘rice-land when the crop is ruined by hail and only stalks survive (karakābhraṃśitaphalā stambhaśeṣeva śālībhūḥ)’58 to describe an army that has lost morale, or that of ‘a brimming lake when it overflows upon the bursting of the dam in the rains (pālibhaṅge tamasyeva prāvṛtapūrṇasya lakcyatām)’59 to describe the appearance of the forces collected by one Loṭhaka who had long been plotting against king Jayasiṃha. Other attributes and associations culturally specific to Kashmir are sprinkled all over the Rājataraṅgiṇī, imbuing a classic Sanskrit kāvya with a very special local flavour, as well as pointing to ways in which Kashmir was distinguishable from other spaces. Most of these occur as minor detailing and incidental inputs, often, again, as part of evocative similes or imagery, and sometimes mixed with formulaic flourishes. But in each case they appear as more or less self-conscious touches, which is significant for gauging the extent to which the Rājataraṅgiṇī was an expression of regional selfhood. These Kashmiri adaptations of literary devices help vivify the natural and cultural scape of Kashmir, bringing an unmistakably sensorial and experiential dimension to it. There are dozens of these observations in the text; suffice it to sample a few here. Thus, early in the very first taraṅga, Kalhaṇa composes the following miscellany of novel attributes: Such is Kashmir, the country which may be conquered by the force of spiritual merit but not by armed force; where the inhabitants in consequence fear more the next world; where there are hot baths in winter, comfortable landing places on the river banks, where the rivers being free from aquatic animals are without peril; where, realizing that the land created by his father is unable to bear heat, the hot-rayed sun honours it by bearing himself softly even in summer.60 Learning, high dwelling houses, saffron, iced water, grapes and the like – what is a commonplace there is difficult to secure in paradise.61 The reference to surpassing paradise (tridiva) is striking for it anticipates the later-day construction of Kashmir as a paradisical space itself in Persian literature. The verse also suggests a combined claim to piety and pleasures for the land, which, though not uncommon to kāvya descriptions, is a characterisation also to be found in the Nīlamata Purāṇa, wherein Kashmir is described as both ‘holy and charming (ramaṇīyaśca puṇyaśca)’.62

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Another description is inspired by natural markers specific to a montane ecology and temperate clime, such as ‘the verdure of undulating trees’, ‘delightful resin of the pines’ and ‘gleaming like a dish of yoghurt on an auspicious occasion’.63 In a similar vein appear references to fruits and vegetables unique to Kashmir, viz. cherries (kapittha), described as ‘which but for a few days are produced in Kashmir at the advent of the clouds’;64 utpalasāka, a bitter green leafy vegetable that grows wild in Kashmir;65 and lotus root, a delicacy in Kashmiri cuisine.66 Similarly, the reference to fried meats, described as ‘the soft and unctuous fare of Kashmir which is easy to digest when washed down with sugared water’.67 Notable also is the reference to shawls (nicola),68 the stock-in-trade of the Kashmiri people to this day, and to long woollen blankets worn by country people.69 Similarly, Kashmiri load carriers on their difficult ascent uphill70 are mentioned, as are water mills and hand mills,71 and bathing huts and boat bridges on the Vitastā’s front.72 To be sure, the Rājataraṅgiṇī is a political and, if anything, an ethical commentary. So, it does not dwell on these motifs. But it is precisely the incidental yet prolific manner in which these keep cropping up in the narrative that yields a conspicuous local infusion in the text. Thus, among analogies, the following are instances of Kashmiri cultural signifiers invoked in the service of literary expression: ‘The saffron flower (kuṅgkum) is without a stem, the kṣirīnbears fruit without a blossom, so do high-souled men secede from desire without the passage of years (i.e., without aging)’.73 In a different mood is this analogy: ‘With the dead, whose bodies swollen being soaked in water, the surface of the streams was covered as if by piles of cut timber gliding from the mountains’.74 Or ‘In that rebellion, massed bands of the Dāmaras (landed chiefs) came swarming in thousands from all directions like wasps emerging from earth holes upon the melting of snow’.75 Or ‘This evil rumour with its small beginning in the camp assumed serious proportions in the capital, like a storm gust from a mountain gorge is magnified when it reaches the wilderness’.76 Or ‘The Dāmara horde was ready to swoop down like a glacier at the touch of heat’.77 Similarly, there is a reference to the fall of a pilgrim off the banks of a tīrtha through landslide.78 The movement from physical qualities of space to spiritual ones is effected as a continuum in the Rājataraṅgiṇī, as we observed earlier. Claim to spiritual distinctiveness is made early and unequivocally in the form of direct statements, such as ‘the country which may be conquered by spiritual merit, not armed force (vijīyate puṇyabalairbalairyattuna śastriṇmā)’79 and ‘this kingdom [is] held in veneration by the gods, tīrthas and ṛṣis’.80 However, that the spiritual characterisation of Kashmir had a political purpose and meaning also becomes clear fairly early and, again, draws on the Nīlamata Purāṇa’s mythological exegesis of the true identity of Kashmir, namely, that it is Pārvatī herself. Accordingly, the Rājataraṅgiṇī has no less than lord Kṛṣṇa state: ‘The land of Kashmir is Pārvatī; know its king to be part of Śiva (rājā gyeyo harāṃśajaḥ). He should not be disregarded even if he be wicked, by a wise man desirous of bliss’.81

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We also get all kings from the first to literally the last assiduously painted in colours of piety in the Rājataraṅgiṇī. This depiction had two components: rhetorical, wherein kings were described as ‘pure minded’ (śuddhadhīhiḥ), ‘he who loved a life of good conduct’, ‘kept himself far away from sinfulness’, ‘the crest jewel of Śiva worshippers’ and so on;82 and practical wherein the many pious donations and constructions (puṇyā pratiṣṭhā)83 sponsored by every single king, king after king – and often by their queens, other kin, and councilors84 – are singled out for mention and detailed ad nauseam.85 These include the founding of temples, maṭhas, vihāras, stupas, and agrahāras, as well as the frequent consecration of icons like bāṇaliṅgas, tridents and colossal bodhisattvas, the names of scores of which are found littered across the text, just as their objects seem to have littered the Kashmiri landscape. Together, these represent man-made sacred geography that made dense the sacred terrain outlined by the natural tīrthas. It is instructive to note the sectarian plurality of these royal enterprises which were Śaiva, Vaiṣṇava, Bauddha, and also Saura86 by affiliation. Though simultaneous multiple patronage87 is hardly unique to early Kashmir, it is nowhere given quite the recognition by historians it deserves. Not only is Kalhaṇa at ease with inscribing the space of Kashmir with this plurality,88 it points to another kind of diversity, ethnic, that also inhabited this space in the early medieval period, insofar as behind some of these faiths were Tuhkhāras (like Caṅkuṇa), Turuṣkas (like Kaniṣka), Śāhīs (like queen Vasantalekhā), people of Lo (Tibet) like Tonpā89 and of Prāgjyotiṣapura (Assam) (like queen Amṛtaprabhā/lekhā),90 and other such non-Kashmiri groups who were nonetheless part of the Kashmiri ruling class. The other point to note about royal sacred building activities is that they tended to cluster. While any number of new foundations were certainly inaugurated at new places across the valley, usually named after the royal individuals who had them built, certain tīrthas or pilgrimage sites, prominent among which were Vijayeśa, Cakradhara, Nandīsía, Tripureśa, and Bhūteśa, appear as dominating the hierarchy. They show a noticeable continuity in that they were serially patronised down the dynasties, successive kings or queens making additions to the shrine, like gilding the parasol, or constructing a new chamber, or restoring old structures, or enhancing the endowment for their upkeep.91 We may, therefore, speak of both a diffused and accretionary pilgrimage economy. So pervasive, indeed compulsive, does this practice of piety appear in the Rājataraṅgiṇī that even kings and queens of iconic impiety – those presented as unscrupulous in the extreme or mindless, massacring tyrants, like Mihirakula, Kalaśa and Diddā – are recorded as making donations to temples and vihāras, driving even Kalhaṇa to comment on the incongruity thus: ‘Even sinners, it is a marvel!, have a peculiar longing to do good acts (pāpināmapi hanteyam kāpi satkarmavāsanā)’.92 As I have argued elsewhere, the explanation appears to have been quite simply that these ritual acts were really political acts. They were meant not

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just typically for divine legitimation of rule but as part of other kinds of political communication, like appearing to right the wrongs perpetrated by the previous ruler, or claiming the legacy and mantle of great rulers of the past.93 These religious establishments seem to have played yet another role in Kashmir which the Rājataraṅgiṇī uniquely evokes. This was the fact that the sacred sanctuary also doubled as political sanctuary, an asylum of sorts where kings, sometimes complete with their militia, took refuge either in the troubled course of their tenure, or as the ultimate place of rest or recuperation from illness at the end of their reigns. A number of abdicating or dying kings, renunciant princes, invalid ministers, and generals are described as retiring to tīrthas like Vijayeśa, Varāhakṣetra and Cakradhara.94 More incongruously, these sanctuaries became veritable theatres of war when ousted kings, rebels, or truant courtiers on the run took shelter within their ramparts. Thus, the holy shrines of Vijayeśa and Sureśavarī became the site for competing claims to the throne of Kashmir when Sussala and Garga (representing king Uccala), and later Sussala and king Bhikṣācāra clashed there.95 The Kashmiri subjects, who often found themselves caught in the midst of civil war and insurrection, are also on one occasion described as fleeing to the safety of Cakradhara tīrtha.96 A notch less, the tīrtha also emerges as a site for political protest and negotiation when priest conclaves, in a practice apparently special to Kashmir, organise sit-ins and hunger strikes (aṇgśana) at such befitting venues against royal inaction or actions.97 Thus, the spiritual land of Kashmir as represented in the Rājataraṅgiṇī appears also as a troubled land, ‘a country which delighted in insurrection (upaplavapriya deśa)’, ‘a realm unhappy through its own factions (svabhedavidhuram maṇḍalam)’,98 as Kalhaṇa stoically informs us. In this sense, it was the antithesis of that political principle closest to Kalhaṇa’s heart, namely, a strong monarchy. Hence Kalhaṇa’s painstaking and marathon reportage of the various players and factors that weakened kings and kingship and with which he populates the political space of Kashmir. Briefly, these include the militia men, the Tantrins, and unruly landed elements, the Ḍāmars, on the one hand, and pompous brāhmaṇa activists seeking to exert pressure on the king, on the other. Most of all, it is the courtiers (mantrin) and official functionaries (kāyastha) as a class who are attacked by Kalhaṇa for their dishonesty, sycophancy, love of intrigue and calumny, treachery, and licentious lifestyles. Finally and most importantly, as I have detailed elsewhere and can only summarise here,99 it is a series of dissolute Kashmiri kings themselves whom Kalhaṇa documents with all the concern and contempt at his disposal. Moral corruption, then, is seen as the bane of the administration of Kashmir across time and the cause of the Kashmiri people’s endless woes. This is what Kalhaṇa’s highly ethicised commentary, the Rājataraṅgiṇī, revolves around. The ‘imagined landscape’ of Kashmir – pristine, holy, spiritual – is thus set off against the unholy and troubled contrětemps occurring therein. The contrast is a striking one and could not have been lost on its author; it essays the mixed feelings with which he seems to have undertaken to represent his

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country, feelings of ‘love woven with shame and sorrow’.100 More significantly, it attests how physical and cultural geography could be implicated in a political critique in the process of giving expression to the history and identity of a region.

Notes 1 Shonaleeka Kaul, ‘Kalhaṇa’s Kashmir: Aspects of the Literary Production of Space in the Rājataraṅgiṇī’, Indian Historical Review, 2013, 40(2): 207–22. 2 Diana L. Eck, India: A Sacred Geography, New York: Harmony Books, 2012, p. 1. 3 Ibid., p. 53. 4 Ibid. 5 An exception would be Kumkum Roy’s ‘The Making of a Maṇḍala: Fuzzy Frontiers of Kalhaṇa’s Kashmir’, in Biswamoy Pati, Bhairabi Prasad Sahu and T. K. Venkatasubramanian (eds.), Negotiating India’s Past: Essays in Memory of Parthasarathi Gupta, New Delhi: Tulika Books, 2003, pp. 52–66. She, however, reads the mythical connections asserted in the Rājataraṅgiṇī (based on the Nīlamata Purāṇa) between the Kashmiri kings and the Mahābhārata war, for example, as just another instance of a ‘periphery’ seeking legitimation from the ‘centre’. My own concern in reading this text would be how Kashmir was being constructed as a ‘centre’ in itself and one whose internal processes of emerging as a region were heterogeneously constituted. Kashmir definitely subscribed to subcontinental traditions, but then it seems to have shared the material culture of the Gangetic valley and beyond from early on (the Northern Black Pottery [NBP] phase), and at the same time combined influences from the Oxus – Indus orbit as well (west and central Asia). 6 For a detailed discussion of the central question regarding the Rājataraṅgiṇī, namely its historicity, see Shonaleeka Kaul, ‘“Seeing” the Past: Text and Questions of History in the Rājataraṅgiṇī’, History and Theory, 2014, 53: 194–211. 7 Rājataraṅgiṇī (hereafter Rāj.) VII.979. 8 Ibid. VII.1577. 9 Ibid. IV.611–13. 10 Ibid. IV.104. 11 Ibid. VII.991, 1261 (It is said ‘the people of Rājapurī are by nature desirous of injuring Kashmir’). 12 Rāj. VII.1181. 13 Ibid. VIII.1531. 14 Ibid. VIII.924. Kalhaṇa decries some Kashmiri forces which, because of an alliance between the Kashmiri Bhikṣācāra, the Turuṣkas and the Khaśas against Sussala, the king of Kashmir, had fought against ‘the lord of their own race (kulaprabhu)’. 15 Rāj. VII.978. 16 A clear notion of Kashmiris as a community is also to be found in the reference to king Kandarpa securing exemption from tax on funeral services at Gayā for the community (Rāj. VII.1008). 17 Rāj. IV.606. 18 Ibid. I.25–7. All translations are from The River of Kings: Rājataraṅgiṇī The Saga of the Kings of Kaśmīr, trans. Ranjit Sitaram Pandit, New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 2004 [1935]. At places however, I have rearranged the syntax or substituted my choice of words for Pandit’s to make it an easier read. 19 This explanation is found in the Nīlamata Purāṇa, verse 226.

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20 G. S. Gaur, ‘Semthan Excavation: A Step towards Bridging the Gap between the Neolithic and the Kushan Period in Kashmir’, in B. M. Pande and B. D. Chattopadhyaya (eds.), Archaeology and History: Essays in the Memory of A. Ghosh, vol. 1, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1987, p. 327. 21 Rāj. I.28. 22 Ibid. I.29. 23 Wendy Doniger (ed.), Purana Perennis: Reciprocity and Transformation in Hindu and Jaina Texts, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1993, p. 175. 24 Rāj. I.31. 25 Ibid. I.95, 92. 26 Eck, India, p. 36. 27 Rāj. I.43. 28 Ibid. I.57. 29 Ibid. I.32–8. 30 Ibid. I.3.3. 31 In Rāj. I.159, for instance, the efforts of king Dāmodara II are referred to, while in Rāj. IV.191, those of king Lalitāditya are described. 32 Rāj. VII.1186. 33 Ibid. V.270–3; VII.906, 1632. 34 Ibid. V.90, 113, 114–45. 35 Ibid. V.97–8. In Rāj. IV.191, we are told that king Lalitāditya, too, diverted the waters of the Vitastā at Cakradhara and constructed a series of water wheels on them for the villages. 36 Rāj. V.105–6, 109–12. 37 Ibid. V.72. 38 Ibid. I.239; II.17–26; VI.125; VIII.1037, 1043, 1092, 2449, 2520, 2681. 39 Ibid. VII.1373–4. 40 Ibid. VII.1392. 41 Ibid. VIII.2520. 42 Ibid. VIII.1037. 43 Ibid. II.17–26. 44 Ibid. I.239; III.21–4. 45 Ibid. I.171–86. 46 Ibid. VIII.111. 47 Ibid. I.220–2. 48 Pandit, The River of Kings, p. 34, n. 220. 49 Rāj. VIII.1007. 50 Ibid. I.240–72. 51 Ibid. I.258–65. 52 Ibid. I.267–8. 53 Ibid. I.269, 272. 54 Pandit, River of Kings, p. 191, n. 68. 55 Of Kashmir, Kalhaṇa says: ‘This country which has violent floods from the waters of the Mahāpadma lake and is intersected with streams had ever small produce’ (Rāj. V.68). 56 Rāj. IV.592–7. 57 Ibid. IV.605–14. 58 Ibid. IV.295. 59 Ibid. VIII.2800. 60 There is a reference to ‘the very delightful summer of Kashmir’ in Rāj. II.138. 61 Rāj. I.39–42. 62 Nīlamata Purāṇa, verse 206. 63 Rāj. III.225–6.

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Ibid. IV.237. Ibid. V.48. Ibid. VIII.676. Ibid. VIII.1863, 66. Ibid. I.207. Ibid. VIII.857. Ibid. VII.841; VIII. 1331. Ibid. VII.1292. Ibid. VIII.1182. Ibid. VIII.3078, translation mine. Ibid. VII.1222. Ibid. VII.1318. Ibid. VIII.255. Ibid. VIII.661. Ibid. VIII.2904. Echoed in Mātṛgupta’s words in Rāj. III.293: ‘None dare do us an injury by superior might’. Rāj. VII.1243. Ibid. I.72. One early, probably mythical king, Jalauka is directly compared with Nandīśa (Śiva) and said to have attained communion with the god at Cirmocana (Rāj. I.130, 152). For example, Rāj. I.90, 91, 154–5 to Rāj. VIII.2379–80. Rāj. III.99. See, for example, the account of Jayasiṃha’s reign during which his wives, friends and courtiers, together with him, seem to be running an empire of piety, so constant and prolific are their donative and building efforts (Rāj. VIII.2402–41). It will not be an exaggeration to say that this category of information is the single largest in the text and completely dominates Kalhaṇa’s reportage. This may be because the land grant charters (śāsana, praśasti) Kalhaṇa had access to were numerous, as they had best survived the passage of time, which indeed they were meant to do. But their occurrence in large numbers would itself tell a tale. Sun-worshippers. The best example of this is the reign of Lalitāditya (Rāj. IV.181–217), who is described as sārvabhauma (universal ruler), not prādeśika (local ruler), and about whom Kalhaṇa mentions that he gathered talented people from all over the world (Rāj. IV.245). This plurality need not be equated with inclusivity, though, since we do get instances of latent tension between groups, for example, vis-á-vis the Buddhists and possibly between the Vaiṣṇavas and the Śaivas. See Shonaleeka Kaul, ‘Kingship in Early Kashmir: New Perspectives from the Rājataraṅgiṇī’, in Osmund Bopearachchi and Suchandra Ghosh (eds.), Indian History and Beyond: B. D. Chattopadhyaya Felicitation Volume, New Delhi: Primus, 2019: 78–93. Rāj. III.10. Ibid. II.147–8; III.9. Ibid. I.105, V.46, 55; VI.183–5; VII.524, 952, 956; VIII.580, 2363–5, 2379–80, 3316–17, 3356, 3364–5. The most massive sacred constructions are reported for Lalitâditya’s reign (Rāj. IV.181–217). See Rāj. I.305–7; IV.137; VI.295–309; VII.121, 524. Kalhaṇa calls the brāhmaṇas who accepted land donations from Mihirakula, the meanest brāhmaṇas (adhamadvija, Rāj. I.305). For examples and a discussion, see Kaul, ‘Kingship in Early Kashmir’. Rāj. VII.186–7, 256–9, 269; VIII.179, 437. Rāj. VIII. 509, 744–8. Rāj. VIII.2344 spells out the sense of immunity surrounding sanctuaries which made them fitting asylums: ‘[Citraratha] thinking

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97 98 99 100

Shonaleeka Kaul that no harm would befall him from the king if he lived, even if guilty, in a sanctuary he, under the pretext of wishing to die, proceeded to Sureśvarī’. Ironically, the timber palisades of the fortress surrounding the tīrtha were set on fire and thousands of refugees perished. This is described in Rāj. VIII.971–92. There is an earlier instance in the Rājataraṅgiṇī of people taking refuge in Cakradhara and the shrine burning down (Rāj. I.259). Rāj. VIII.898–9, 2733. Ibid. VIII.1804; II.7. See Kaul, ‘Kingship in Early Kashmir’. Here I read Kalhaṇa’s own state of mind into his description of the feelings of abdicated king Ananta and queen Suryamati. They, on hearing of the doings of their debauched son Kalaśa, the king of Kashmir, ‘wept . . . through love woven with shame and sorrow’ (Rāj. VII.318).

Select references Primary sources Kalhaṇa’s Rājataraṅgiṇī or Chronicle of the Kings of Kashmir, ed. M. A. Stein, vol. 1, Sanskrit Text with Critical Notes, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1960 [1892]. The Nīlamata Purāṇa, ed. and trans. Ved Kumari Ghai, vol. 2, Jammu: J&K Academy of Arts Culture and Languages, 1973. The River of Kings: Rājataraṅgiṇī, The Saga of the Kings of Kaśmīr, trans. Ranjit Sitaram Pandit, New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 2004 [1935].

Secondary literature Crane, Robert I. (ed.), Regions and Regionalism in South Asian Studies: An Exploratory Study, Monograph and Occasional Paper Series No. 5, Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1966. Doniger, Wendy (ed.), Purana Perennis: Reciprocity and Transformation in Hindu and Jaina Texts, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1993. Eck, Diana L., India: A Sacred Geography, New York: Harmony Books, 2012. Gaur, G. S., ‘Semthan Excavation: A Step towards Bridging the Gap between the Neolithic and the Kushan Period in Kashmir’, in B. M. Pande and B. D. Chattopadhyaya (eds.), Archaeology and History: Essays in the Memory of A. Ghosh, vol. 1, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1987. Kachru, Braj B., ‘Kashmiri Literature’, in Jan Gonda (ed.), A History of Indian Literature, vol. 8, fasc. 4, Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1981. Kaul, Shonaleeka, ‘Kingship in Early Kashmir: New Perspectives from the Rājataraṅgiṇī’, in Osmund Bopearachchi and Suchandra Ghosh (eds.), Indian History and Beyond: B. D. Chattopadhyaya Felicitation Volume, New Delhi: Primus, 2019, pp. 78–93. ———, ‘Kalhaṇa’s Kashmir: Aspects of the Literary Production of Space in the Rājataraṅgiṇī’, Indian Historical Review, 2013, 40(2): 207–22. ———, ‘“Seeing” the Past: Text and Questions of History in the Rājataraṅgiṇī’, History and Theory, 2014, 53: 194–211. Pollock, Sheldon, 1998, ‘The Cosmopolitan Vernacular’, The Journal of Asian Studies, 1998, 57(1): 6–37.

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——— (ed.), Literary Cultures in History: Reconstructions from South Asia, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2004, pp. 1–123. ———, The Language of the Gods in the World of Men, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2007. Roy, Kumkum, ‘The Making of a Maṇḍala: Fuzzy Frontiers of Kalhaṇa’s Kashmir’, in Biswamoy Pati, Bhairabi Prasad Sahu, and T. K. Venkatasubramanian (eds.), Negotiating India’s Past: Essays in Memory of Parthasarathi Gupta, New Delhi: Tulika Books, 2003, pp. 52–66. Slaje, Walter, ‘In the Guise of Poetry: Kalhaṇa Reconsidered’, in Walter Slaje (ed.), Śāstrārambha: Enquiries into the Preamble in Sanskrit, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2008, pp. 207–44. Thapar, Romila, ‘Kalhaṇa’, in Mohibbul Hasan (ed.), Historians of Medieval India, New Delhi: Meenakshi Prakashan, 1983, pp. 52–62.

7

Space for change Evaluating the ‘paucity of metallic currency’ in medieval India Shailendra Bhandare

The understanding of medieval Indian history went through a ‘paradigm shift’ with R. S. Sharma’s Indian Feudalism published in 1965.1 Prior to Sharma’s seminal contribution, the post-Gupta – pre-Islamic epoch (c. 6th– 12th century CE) in India was largely understood in dynastic terms, with a focus on political chronology and evidence for wars, political conquests and shifting territorial extent of states, culled from epigraphs, mainly copperplate land grant charters issued under various dynasties and stone inscriptions.2 Sharma shifted the focus to understanding governance structures and the economics of it through his application of the model of ‘feudalism’, which essentially meant alienation of privileges traditionally held by the king to other social classes with ‘land’ as the chief source of this alienation. Sharma subsequently made this particular theme the central axiom of his commentary on early medieval Indian history, later developing it further into tropes of ‘urban decay’ or ‘de-urbanisation’, claiming that the origin of feudalism lay essentially in such processes, and contributing another monograph on the theme Urban Decay in India in 1987. Both these contributions generated a string of criticisms; and to counter at least some of it, Sharma came up with Early Medieval Society: A Study in Feudalisation in 2001. Sharma’s postulation and model, therefore, have had currency for nearly half-a-century and dominated the historical discourse about early medieval India for a considerable length of time.3 Sharma marks some particular observations as the ‘diagnostic’ apparatus of his ‘feudalisation’ model. According to him, the catalyst of this social change came mainly in the post-Gupta epoch, although its germ had been visible even in the earlier centuries. Thus, he notes that the earliest inscription to mention delegation of land rights to donees of specific religious institutions is of the Satavahana king Gautamiputra Satakarni at Nasik.4 The root cause of this system of governance was a decline in trade and consequent decline in townships that resulted in a number of social changes, such as the feudal mode of agricultural production, characterised by the emergence of ‘serfdom’ through forced labour or vishti; the emergence of certain sections of society, such as the Brahmins as ‘landholders’ and beneficiaries in other respects; and the segregation of population into ‘substantial

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landlords and servile peasantry’. This ‘feudal order’ was based on ‘more or less self-sufficient economic units in various parts of the country’ and this is indicated by ‘the rarity of coins’.5 This is where numismatics first comes into Sharma’s discourse. In Sharma’s words: ‘[That independent and selfsufficient economic] local units were coming into existence is also evident from the paucity of coins of common use from the Gupta period onwards’.6 Further, he adds: The Pālas ruled for about four centuries but have left hardly any coins, and the same is the case with Gurjara-Pratihāras and Rāṣṭrakūṭas. In South India also except stray coins of the Cālukyas of Bādāmi no coins are found between the fourth and the eleventh centuries. Coins mentioned in Cāhamāna and Sena records have not actually been found.7 However, the mere lack of coins as ascertained from secondary sources was not sufficient. If the ‘paucity’ theory were to be articulated, it would require specific data to corroborate it. This brought Sharma in face of a problem, that of the ‘quantification’ of the coins produced and in circulation. In an article Sharma wrote in 1969, he astutely recognised this problem by commenting: ‘[W]e must identify the ancient sources of gold, silver and other metals, explain the abundance and paucity of coins, determine the area and period of circulation and above all, calculate the volume of coins in the context of time and space’.8 How Sharma approached this problem and what sort of methodologies he adopted will be discussed further in course of this chapter. As Sharma’s ‘feudalism’ model for early medieval history was hinged on a very broad evidence base, that of copper-plate land grant charters and other inscriptions from across the subcontinent, it gained a good degree of acceptance amongst historians. However, Sharma has been criticised for his choice of evidence – a review of his Urban Decay in India amply delineates the limitations of his approach.9 Historians, such as Brajadulal Chattopadhyaya, have also contested Sharma’s ‘decline-centric’ model and contended that while there certainly was a ‘change’ in historical processes during the post-Gupta epoch, it was not necessarily a ‘decline’. Thus, the perceived state of ‘deurbanisation’ and ‘decline’ in flourishing urban centres was not a ‘result’, but only a symptom of the fact that the urban focus of the centres had moved elsewhere.10 André Wink, too, has commented on Sharma’s ‘Eurocentric’ approach to theorising the paucity of metallic coinage.11 But the most constructive critique of Sharma’s numismatic postulation came from John S. Deyell, who in his book on the ‘monetary history’ of medieval north India, Living Without Silver (1990), offered a view differing from Sharma’s notion of ‘paucity of coinage’.12 Methodologically, Deyell rested his inquiry on lines suggested by none other than Sharma, who, as mentioned earlier, had suggested that investigations pertaining to the role of coinage and economic activities should be done by identifying the ancient sources of

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metals, explaining the abundance or paucity of coins, determining the area and period of circulation, and, above all, calculating the volume of coins in the context of time and place. Most importantly, Deyell commented that the perceived lack of numismatic information in this period was because it had been neglected by numismatists. ‘Regrettably’, he wrote, ‘[they] have never possessed any strong economic perspective and so have never really classified the evidence at hand in a format of utility to economic studies’.13 By this, he meant the emphasis numismatists always placed on identifying and attributing particular coins, inherent in the fact that ‘numismatics is the science of classification of coins, and the unit of study is the coin-type – a differentiable category of coin possessing a unique appearance, metrology, metallic composition and message content’.14 Deyell did remarkably well in addressing some of the points: he sought his evidence from presenting a numismatic ‘landscape’ of medieval India, mapping coin-finds and analysing coin hoards. In these ways, he was able to establish the area and period of circulation of the coins. As regards quantifying the output of coins and their ‘volume’ in circulation, he opted for data obtained through hoard analysis, such as the number of coins of particular kings surviving in a given hoard. He also redressed some of the shortcomings in numismatic studies by presenting a methodology of studying the bulk of coinage, such as the ‘Gadhaiya Paisa’, that otherwise would have been named ‘unattributable’ coins by numismatists, and thereby making an attempt to actually attribute them. The only criticism that can be made of Deyell’s contribution is that he placed a greater emphasis on the period after c.1000 CE. By comparison, his treatment of the period c. 750–1000 CE is pretty sketchy. A cursory look at the page range of the content on these two periods in his work is enough to indicate this: the chapters on the period from 750 to 1000 CE cover only 46 pages (pp. 21–66), while the rest of the book covers the period from 1000 to 1250 CE, i.e., 166 pages (pp. 67–232), not including the concluding chapter/remarks. Sharma contributed a detailed chapter on the theme of ‘paucity of metallic coinages’ in his Early Medieval Indian Society.15 Aware of the fact that Deyell’s work covers the period 1000–1250 CE period rather well, Sharma kept the focus of this chapter on 500–1000 CE. In this chapter, Sharma discussed the ‘problems of quantification’ and, to buttress his views on the paucity of coins, presented a great deal of numerical data on coins dated to this time bracket, as obtained from institutional collections. It is interesting to note that Deyell warned against the veracity of this very method in the initial pages of his book;16 however, Sharma chose to ignore the warning. Going by the surviving number of coins that could be attributed to this period, Sharma made a major case to delineate and re-emphasise his theory of ‘paucity’. Although in revisiting the debate here, I have chosen Sharma and Deyell as ‘opposing viewpoints’ to begin with, there have been other contributions to it in the literature on this theme, too. A good survey of these, particularly

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with reference to Sharma’s inference about the diminution of trade which he derived from his theory of ‘paucity of coinage’, has been presented in an essay by D. K. Ojha and Shiva Kant Tiwari in a recent volume on numismatic methodology.17 In this essay, we see the true impact of Sharma’s postulation: a number of numismatists took his views verbatim, reiterating long-standing assumptions, such as that the Rashtrakutas and the Pratiharas never issued any coins. Ojha and Tiwari, too, seem to be completely in agreement with the postulation, contending that ‘for the time being, it is difficult to prove the existence of a robust coinage system in the first phase of early medieval period (from 600 to 900 to 1000 AD)’.18 They, however, take Deyell’s analysis on board and note: ‘The second phase of early medieval period (from 10th to 12th century AD) doubtlessly witnessed the revival of coinage systems’.19 Also noteworthy in this respect is that somewhere in the course of the debate, the fact that Sharma originally structured his case entirely on north India alone has been largely overlooked. The debate does not take south India into account, almost to the point of oblivion. We, thus, have the current locus standi on this issue which can be revisited from three perspectives: the methodology of arriving at the feudalisation postulation, the quality of the data collected and recent researches/advances made in numismatic studies that shed an important light on the entire postulation. I will take these in the reverse order, beginning with new numismatic data.

Coinage in India, 500–1000 CE: a review Although the general impression, following Sharma’s contention, seems to be that there was no coinage, or indeed very little coinage, in India in the post-Gupta period, numismatic ‘ground reality’ reveals a different picture. Much of it has escaped the wider discussion about the issue simply because the historians participating in the debate have not taken on board ‘raw data’ reported in numismatic publications, nor have they bothered to make specific attempts to employ numismatic methodologies within the ambit of their observations. The numismatists, on the other hand, have to share some of the blame too because at least some of the data, reported on purely numismatic grounds, has suffered from a long tradition of wrong attribution of coins. We will see how the numismatic ‘landscape’ of post-Gupta India has emerged in recent past. The method I have employed here is to take individual geographic regions and map the data on to them so that we get the picture from not only a chronological but also a geographic perspective. Gandhara, Kashmir, Northern Punjab and Haryana These areas of the subcontinent came under the rule of the Huns after the Guptas. Hun coinage is noteworthy for the imitation of preexisting cointypes in the areas they conquered. Thus, in Gandhara, Hun coins follow the Kidarite types, which themselves were derived from the preceding coinages

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(the silver coins were copied from a Sasanian ‘bust x fire altar with attendants’ and the copper largely from the Kushan prototypes). The 6th-centuryCE Hun rulers like Toramana and Mihirakula left behind a major coinage in India proper: in Punjab and Haryana, they struck coins in the ‘Kota-Kula’ fabric, of which each coin had a specific type (see Figure 7.1). Counterstriking of Toramana’s coins by Mihirakula’s devices indicates a certain degree of re-introduction of older coins into circulation. The most recent survey of Hunnic coinages of the Alchon and Nezak series can be found in K. Vondrovec’s works.20 In Kashmir, the numismatic picture is still developing as new data emerges. The numismatic chronology for Kashmir between the rule of the Guptas and the advent of Islam was proposed by Alexander Cunningham as early as 1893 by correlating the data given in the 12th-century-CE dynastic chronicle Rājataraṅgiṇī by Kalhaṇa with the coins.21 Representing the inception of coinage in Kashmir in the post-Gupta period were base gold coins of the 6th-century-CE ruler Pravarasena,22 but a recent discovery of the coins of ‘Tujhina’ and Meghavahana,23 dated prior to those of Pravarasena, has forced us to rethink the numismatic chronology that Cunningham had proposed. Subsequent to these early coins are base gold dinaras attributed by Cunningham to the ‘Karkotaka’ dynasty (c. 7th–9th century CE).24 The general coinage in Kashmir during the period of c. 9th–13th century CE has been illustrated by M. Mitchiner.25 These coins are attributed, on the basis of the legends they carry, to various kings mentioned in the Rājataraṅgiṇī. Archaeological evidence and recent discoveries from northern Punjab indicate the preponderance of small silver coins, weighing around 0.7 to

Figure 7.1 Copper Coin of Huna King Toramana Source: Courtesy of Pankaj Tandon, www.coinindia.com (accessed on 10 September 2013). Note: All images illustrated in this chapter do not reflect the actual dimensions of the coins and are representative reproductions.

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Figure 7.2 Silver Dramma from North Punjab with Legend ‘Prachandendra’ Source: Courtesy of Pankaj Tandon, www.coinindia.com (accessed on 10 September 2013).

0.9 grams and identified by the denominational term dramma. Although they were identified and contextualised in terms of the period and area of circulation, as well as the issuing authorities by Robert Tye,26 the significance of his study – particularly the circulatory context he sets out for them visà-vis the coinages from the Islamic West – has not been taken into account by the historians studying medieval India. Drammas bearing inscriptions ‘Prachandendra’ and ‘Yashaditya’ (see Figure 7.2) have been published by P. Tandon (2008).27 They bear a Sasanian-influenced bust on one side and the motif of a prominent trident on the other. On basis of palaeography of the legends, these coins are dateable to the 7th or 8th century CE. The legends ostensibly have a reference to the cult of Sun worship in the region. The small silver drammas also constituted a major currency in southern Punjab and Sindh, Deccan and north-central India, and they are discussed further in this chapter. Rajasthan and Gujarat It is a well-known numismatic fact that in these regions, a coinage termed as ‘Indo-Sasanian’ was predominant in the post-Gupta epoch. Indo-Sasanian coins (see Figure 7.3), as the name suggests, were derived from a Sasanian prototype, which has the bust of the ruler on the obverse and a fire-altar flanked by attendants on the reverse. This feature was first noticed by Cunningham, who described them as ‘simply rude copes of Sassanian coins’.28 These motifs, however, are seen on the coins through a number of levels of type-degradation and stylisation. The coinage is noteworthy for the ‘series’ it constitutes in the way in which the type characteristics ‘degrade’, the

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Figure 7.3 Silver Indo-Sasanian Coin from Rajasthan Source: Courtesy of Jan Lingen, www.zeno.com (accessed on 10 September 2013).

geographic distribution of these series, and the chronological extent of how long a series continues to ‘live’ in particular geographic areas. The Indo-Sasanian coinage was a major coinage of north India, which remained largely understudied and under-collected until recent times, owing to the fact that the coins are devoid of features which help in their conclusive attribution. They are also aesthetically ‘ugly’. A direct outcome of both these features was that the coinage, in spite of its extent and importance, remained understudied, barring the tail-end of some of the ‘Indo-Sasanian’ series called ‘Gadhaiya Paisas’ discussed by Deyell.29 However, a recent monograph by K. K. Maheshwari has been a welcome addition to the study of the Indo-Sasanian antecedents of the Gadhaiya Paisas.30 This study has put the coinage right in its numismatic perspective; however, its major shortcoming is that it does not discuss the historical implications of the numismatic study it sets out so well. Maheshwari’s study indicates that the Indo-Sasanian coinage originated from three Sasanian prototypes, which were first introduced in western India through the agency of the Huns in c. 6th century CE. Between the 6th and 9th centuries CE, the coinage fragmented into several typologically distinct ‘off-shoots’, each of which had a chronological duration of its own. Some of these offshoots ended up being the ‘Gadhaiya Paisas’, the attribution of which Deyell discussed in the first section of his work. The Gangetic plains In the immediate post-Gupta period, silver coins of successor dynasties like the Pushyabhutis (Prabhakaravardhana and Harshavardhana) and the Maukharis (Ishanavarman, Avantivarman and Sarvavarman) circulated in the wider Gangetic region.31 They are of the Gupta ‘fan-tailed peacock’ type

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(see Figure 7.4) and employ the same legends as the Gupta precursors, simply substituting the name of the Gupta king with that of the issuing monarch. Coins of the same type were also struck by the Hun ruler Toramana, and other rulers, namely Bhimasena and Parameshvara, of unknown dynasties. The coinage of the ‘later Gupta’ dynasty of Bihar and Bengal is represented by the coins of two rulers, namely Devagupta and Harigupta. Towards the beginning of 9th century CE, two offshoots of the ‘IndoSasanian’ series evolved into major coinages of the Gangetic region: the ‘Vigrahapala’ drammas (see Figure 7.5)32 and the ‘Adivaraha’ drammas (see Figure 7.6).33 The latter of the two has been convincingly attributed to the Pratihara ruler Bhoja I (c. 836–86 CE) who held the title of ‘Adivaraha’.

Figure 7.4 Silver Dramma of Maukhari Ruler Ishanavarman Source: Courtesy of the British Museum.

Figure 7.5 ‘Vigrahapala’ Dramma Source: Courtesy of Todywalla Auctions, www.todyauctions.com (accessed on 10 September 2013).

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Apart from Maheshwari’s work on creating a typological framework for these coinages, Pratipal Bhatia has also discussed the geographic spread of the ‘Adivaraha’ drammas,34 and Deyell has taken the distribution of their finds to construct a picture of Pratihara currency.35 Small silver dramma coins of one more type have been found all across north India.36 Typologically, these coins are derived from a progressional degradation of one of the ‘Gupta’ coin-types: the ‘fire-altar’ type coins struck in the name of Skandagupta. I have placed ‘Gupta’ within quote marks because, as we will see further, there is a good reason to believe that most of these coins were not struck during the lifetime of Skandagupta, but, in all probability, were issues of dynasties in Gujarat whose rulers originated as feudatories of the Gupta rulers towards the end of the Gupta supremacy. On the series of coins under discussion, the motif at the centre of the reverse is reduced to three prominent dots (see Figure 7.7), while the portrait/bust facing right on the obverse is retained, albeit it is seldom recognised as such. Judging by the spread of the finds, as also numismatic evidence of ‘type succession’ (see section on Sindh), the attribution of these drammas to the early Pratiharas seems plausible. Bengal Within this geographic appellation, I have included eastern and western Bengal (present-day Bangladesh and West Bengal), as well as adjoining regions, such as Assam and Arakan. The numismatic landscape of Bengal has vastly changed thanks to the studies of the past two decades. Prior to this, we only knew of a few post-Gupta rulers, such as Samachara Deva, Jayanaga and Shashanka who struck attributable base gold coins.37 In recent years,

Figure 7.6 ‘Adivaraha’ Dramma Source: Courtesy of Todywalla Auctions, www.todyauctions.com (accessed on 10 September 2013).

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Figure 7.7 ‘3-Dots’ Type Silver Dramma of Pratihara Dynasty Source: Courtesy of Jan Lingen, www.zeno.ru (accessed on 10 September 2013).

an entire series of gold coins has come to light from the Mainamati and Comylla regions of Bengal. They were issued by other 7th and 8th-centuryCE rulers, such as Shridharana Rata, Jivadharana Rata, Balabhata, Sarvabhata, Pruthubhata, etc. (see Figure 7.8). This coinage is stylistically very typical, and the designs it employs are essentially a continuation of the Gupta ‘archer’ type. In addition to these coins, there exists an entire series of unattributable limitative gold coins, copying Gupta precursor designs. Both these coinages are discussed extensively by Mitchiner in his independent monograph on the coinage in Bengal.38 The famous statement of Niharranjan Ray about the ‘total absence of Pala coins’ has also been disproved to a certain extent by the find of gold coins of two Pala rulers, Devapala and Dharmapala.39 Devapala’s coin – a masterpiece of post-Gupta coin design – follows the Gupta ‘archer’ design but takes it to new heights of executional superiority. Dharmapala’s gold coin (see Figure 7.9) bears an equestrian portrait of the ruler. In addition to these, there exist other gold coins bearing titles, such as ‘Balamriganka’ and ‘Vangala-mriganka’ which are possibly issues of earlier Pala rulers.40 The aforementioned Comylla – Mainamati coinage also contains issues of rulers from neighbouring kingdoms, such as Shashanka of Gauda, Chakra Varman of Assam (see Figure 7.10) and ‘Vira Chandra’, possibly belonging to the Chandra dynasty of Arakan. There is evidence to indicate that these rulers issued coins in the typical ‘Mainamati’ fabric during military campaigns and temporary occupations of the region. Further to the south and the east, the region was dominated by rulers that controlled the eastern delta region around Chittagong and extended their

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Figure 7.8 Base Gold Coin of Sarvabhata, Ruler of Samatata Region Source: Author’s private collection.

Figure 7.9 Gold Coin of Dharmapala, Pala King of Bengal Source: Courtesy of Pankaj Tandon, www.coinindia.com (accessed on 10 September 2013).

rule in the coastal region of Arakan, spread over the present-day Burma and south-eastern Bangladesh. A major silver coinage existed here, struck initially by rulers with ‘-Akara’ name-endings and later by the Harikela and Chandra dynasties (see Figure 7.11). Typological studies have indicated that the coinage was issued between the 8th and 10th centuries CE. It was an important coinage, serving as a prototype for later coins of the Burmese Pyu kingdom. Mitchiner, in his monograph on Bengal coins41 has illustrated and

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Figure 7.10 Base Gold Coin of ‘Chakra’, Ruler of Assam Source: Author’s private collection.

Figure 7.11 Silver Coin of ‘Harikela’, Arakan Region, Bangladesh Source: Author’s private collection.

discussed these links, and they also have been catalogued and contextualised recently by Dietrich Mahlo.42 Maharashtra and Deccan There is a long-standing misconception that Deccan did not have an indigenous coinage after the Satavahanas. However, discoveries of Vakataka coins from eastern Deccan have largely proven this contention wrong.43 Further,

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there is evidence to suggest that coins of the Vishnukundin dynasty circulated in western Deccan in the late Gupta epoch. Silver coins of king Krishnaraja of the Kalachuri house of Mahishmati44 have been found in good numbers from Maharashtra (see Figure 7.12); the mention of a KrishnarajaRupaka in an 8th-century-CE copper-plate inscription of a local ‘Harishchandra’ dynasty indicates that these coins were in circulation for almost 150 years after their issue.45 Also following the ‘Vishnukundin’ type are a long series of ‘bull’-type coins known chiefly from the southern Tapi valley,46 Khandesh and northern Vidarbha regions (see Figure 7.13), some of which

Figure 7.12 Silver Coin of Krishnaraja, Kalachuri Ruler of Mahishmati, Bengal Source: Courtesy of Pankaj Tandon, www.coinindia.com (accessed on 10 September 2014).

Figure 7.13 ‘Vishnukundin’-Type Coin with a Bull, Khandesh Region, Northern Maharashtra Source: Courtesy of Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.

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Figure 7.14 Rashtrakuta Gold Coin with Legend ‘Shri Shubhatunga’ Source: Courtesy of the British Museum.

bear nominative inscriptions which help us to attribute them to a local Rashtrakuta lineage (not to be confused with the imperial Rashtrakutas). There also exists a preconception amongst historians that like the Vakatakas, the imperial Rashtrakutas never issued any coins. However, in the past decade this has been countered by the reporting of gold, silver and copper coins which can convincingly be attributed to Rashtrakutas. I published copper coins of early rulers Karkka I and Krishna I Akalavarsha47 and of Dhruva Dharavarsha;48 I also published a gold coin of Krishna II Shubhatunga from the British Museum collection (see Figure 7.14) and a similar coin was offered at an auction in 2010.49 In addition to these, there exists a fairly large group of silver drammas, some of which bear readable inscriptions and can thus be attributed.50 The most significant of these was found in the excavations carried out at Sanjan in Gujarat: it is silver dramma bearing the name of Sharva Amoghavarsha, an important Rashtrakuta ruler.51 A range of uninscribed drammas are also known and on the basis of typological similarities and secondary evidence, they, too, can be convincingly attributed to the Rashtrakutas. For example, an uninscribed silver dramma bearing the figure of a seated Garuda on the obverse and an elephant rider on the reverse (see Figure 7.15) can be identified as a Rashtrakuta issue,52 judging by the evidence that it fits in with the inscribed drammas insofar as type characteristics (fabric, weight, execution) are concerned and the ‘seated Garuda’ motif is exactly the same as one on the seal of several Rashtrakuta copper-plate land grant inscriptions. Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh and further south The numismatic picture of these areas in the post-Gupta period is radically different from that in the rest of the Indian subcontinent: this is where we

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Figure 7.15 Silver Dramma of Rashtrakuta Period Source: Courtesy of Todywalla Auctions, www.todyauctions.com (accessed on 10 September 2014).

find a preponderance of gold coinage. But as most coins are uninscribed, or bear inscriptions in scripts whose reading finds scant representation in the skills-sets possessed by most numismatists, they have not traditionally found proper attributions in numismatic publications. South Indian dynasties of 6th–9th century CE, namely the Vishnukundins, the Eastern Chalukyas of Vengi, the Western Chalukyas of Badami, and the Pallavas of Kanchi, struck distinct coinages. The Vishnukundin coinage is linked to the Eastern Chalukya coinage inasmuch as it is of the same type as the latter: the Vishnukundin coinage has a characteristic appearance (see Figure 7.16) in that it bears a lion on the obverse and a symbol composed of a vase flanked by two lamp-posts on the reverse.53 However, while the Vishnukundin coinage is largely uninscribed, its successor, the Eastern Chalukya coinage (see Figure 7.17) bears the legend ‘Vishama Siddhi’, a title of Vishnuvardhana I, the first ruler of the house. The type instituted under him appears to have been repeatedly issued in his name by his successors; the variety of executional changes one sees in the surviving specimens bears testimony to this. The coins attributed to the Western Chalukyas are uninscribed and bear dynastic emblems, such as boar, while some issues also bear the representation of a temple.54 These features were responsible for the use of such denominational terms as Varaha and Pagoda. Other symbols associated with sovereignty and religion, such as mace, vase and chakra, are also seen on these coins. A noteworthy feature on many coins of this period is a floral scroll-like design which bears close similarity to architectural decorations.

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Figure 7.16 Vishnukundin Coin from Andhra Pradesh Source: Courtesy of Todywalla Auctions, www.todyauctions.com (accessed on 10 September 2014).

Figure 7.17 Eastern Chalukya Coin in ‘Vishnukundin’-Type Attributed to Vishnuvardhana Source: Courtesy of Todywalla Auctions, www.todyauctions.com (accessed on 10 September 2014).

The coinage of the Pallavas of Kanchi spans from c. 5th to 8th centuries CE and is a metallic successor of the Satavahana ‘elephant’-type coins which are made of ‘potin’, an alloy of copper and zinc/tin. The obverse of the coins depicts a bull, the dynastic emblem of the Pallavas,55 while the reverse bears resemblance with the Vishnukundin design of a vase.

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Sindh By far the most interesting new material to emerge in the 8th–10th centuryCE coinages was from Sindh. The region was famously the first to be subject to Islamic conquest, as it was won by the Arabs under Muhammad Ibn Qasim in 711–12 CE. Silver dirhams, struck in the Umayyad type, bearing the mint-name ‘al-Daybal’ struck soon afterwards are known.56 The Islamic conquest of Sindh led to the establishment of an Arab ‘Emirate’ in the region. The coins issued by these Amirs are derivatives of the aforementioned Pratihara drammas coins, the earliest ones issued with the small incorporation of the word ‘L‘illah’ between the three prominent dots.57 In fact, it is this series of coins that can be dated with a degree of certainty to the late 8th–early 9th century CE. This, in turn, helps us identify the ‘three-dot’ coinage as Pratihara in the first place. The silver dramma coinage of the Arab Amirs of Sindh subsequently branched out in two distinct series: one current in southern Sindh (with capital at Banbhore) and the other in the northern parts of the Arab realm (with capital at Multan). The Multan series is the earlier derivation and shows noteworthy typological features, such as incorporation of Nagari inscriptions on one side (reverse). Two of these read Shri Adivaraha and Shrimad Varaha (see Figure 7.18), both titles of the Pratihara ruler Bhoja I.58 Whether this was an acknowledgement of Pratihara suzerainty by the Arabs (they are known to be the enemies of each other, and there are records of conflicts between the two) is not clear, but it could well be. There exists a series of drammas with legends invoking the Sun: ‘Jayanta Raja’ and ‘Mihira Deva’.59 These legends, in all likelihood, refer to the Sun temple at Multan which

Figure 7.18 Silver Dramma with Bilingual Legends from Sindh Source: Author’s private collection.

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was a prominent cultic centre until before it was destroyed by Mahmud Ghaznavid in one of his raids. The political history of the region is not known in detail, but the southern dramma series emerged as an offshoot of the northern series, probably at the same time when a Fatimid Emirate was established in southern Sindh. The Arab Emirate was absorbed within the Ghaznavid kingdom in 11th century CE, but the dramma coinage continued, the last being struck in the names of the successors of Mahmud. Gold coinage The observation that evidence for a gold coinage is ‘lacking’ in India during the post-Gupta period has been made by many numismatists and historians. The observation can be justified only when the post-Gupta coinages are compared with the profusion of Gupta or Kushan coins and within the geographic context of north India. But even then, the typological variation that we see in the post-Gupta gold coinage is quite considerable. Noteworthy gold issues include those of Harshavardhana, Pratihara rulers Vatsadaman and Bhoja, Guhilla chief Bappa Rawal, and the Pala rulers Devapala and Dharmapala. In addition, there are a few unattributed gold coins, such as one in the National Museum of India (New Delhi) collection, which bears the legend ‘Vindhyashakti’ and shows the motif of a devotee kneeling in salutation before a seated figure of Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara. In the aforediscussed Mainamati series, there are examples of a ‘non-regal’ gold coinage, struck in the name of ‘Ratna-ttraya’ (see Figure 7.19), referring to the ‘three Buddhist jewels’, and depicting Bodhisattva Manjushri.60

Figure 7.19 Base Gold Coin with ‘Ratnattraya’ Legend and Seated Manjushri, Eastern Bengal Source: Author’s private collection.

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Dramma: the chief northern Indian currency during the early medieval period It is worthwhile to take a stock of silver coins named as drammas at this point. As the previous and the next section demonstrate, this coinage has not attracted sufficient attention from numismatists and historians alike. The full study of this coinage can, perhaps, be subject of a separate monograph; suffice it, at this stage, to provide a short typological and chronological insight. As a numismatic or denominational term, dramma is ubiquitous in inscriptions from all over north India. In these, the term dramma is often appended with a ‘qualifier’, denoting the sort of dramma being referred to by an adjective term preceding it, which reflects either a typological motif, or a geographical appellation or the name of a ruler associated with its issue. Maheshwari has devoted an entire chapter61 to various kinds of drammas and their inscriptional mentions. According to him, the chronological details ascertained from these inscriptions leave little doubt that the periods of circulation of various ‘Indo-Sasanian’ series of coins and drammas coincide and, therefore, there is very little doubt that the inscriptionally attested drammas are nothing but ‘Indo-Sasanian’ coins. Maheshwari62 has provided a chart illustrating this chronological overlap. Prior to the term dramma coming into vogue, he notes the prevalence of another denominational term vimshopaka occurring in the inscriptions. From the data he provides, it is evident that there exists a clear overlap between these two terms for a period of time, during which there is reason to believe that the terms were interconnected and/or synonymously used. Both dramma and vimshopaka are found in inscriptions from a large part of northern India (Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, and Bihar), western India (Gujarat and Khandesh) and the Deccan (Maharashtra and Karnataka). ‘To summarise’, states Maheshwari, the term Vimsopaka and its several variants were used over a period of seven centuries (at least from 499 to 1206 CE), to describe a number of successive coin types. In its earliest phase, it likely referred [sic.] to the broad, silver Indo-Sasanian issues of the Hunas and their successors; in its middle period it specifically referred to the silver Dramma issues of the imperial Gurjara-Pratiharas; in its latest use it seems to have referred to the debased, low-value derivatives of the Gadhaiya series, or perhaps to contemporary copper coinage.63 Maheshwari’s assessment typologically centres almost exclusively on the Indo-Sasanian type coins. However, Tye brought to notice small silver coins, weighing between 0.5 and 0.9 g and found in different parts of western and northern India.64 He identified these as drammas (he incorrectly used the word damma), struck to the standard of 1/6th of a Sasanian dirham, and linked them to the monetary reforms undertaken by the Islamic Caliph

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Abd al-Malik (606–705 CE). However, Tye was uncertain about quite why this denomination was introduced at this time, but he linked its introduction and circulation to the wider Mediterranean and Indian Ocean worlds, emphasising the role it played by citing examples from as far afield as East Africa. Nevertheless, he was clear about projecting his idea as a ‘hypothesis’. The connections he envisaged could be regarded as purely conjectural, but the chronological bracket he placed these small silver dramma coins in is numismatically justified. Typologically, too, his placement of the silver drammas and the derivation from the Gupta coins he proposed for them make good sense. Some of the drammas he identified in his essay have already been described earlier while discussing the coinage in Gandhara, the Punjab and Sindh. An interesting aspect is that much of this small dramma coinage has been unknown to historians of medieval India, although inscriptions – which have remained a much-accessed source of historical data for them – are replete with their mention. Also worthwhile is the fact that their origins lay in debased Gupta-type silver currencies, two series amongst which have been studied by Maheshwari and Rath, as is described in the next section.65 It is apparent that the small silver drammas, in all probability, contained as much silver as did the debased coinages and thereby functioned as their ‘pure metal equivalents’. Copious data on metallic composition analysis carried out by Maheshwari indicates that at least at some points in time and space, some of the varieties of the generic Indo-Sasanian coins contained the same amount of pure silver as did these small silver drammas.66 These correlations are significant and help establish the role of the small silver drammas as a major currency of early medieval northern and western India.

Assessment of numismatic data: shortcomings From the foregoing discussion, it is evident that there was – at least from a typological point of view – a varied coinage in India between the 5th and 11th centuries CE. Some of the coinages, such as the Indo-Sasanian, have been known to numismatists and historians for decades. One would, therefore, wonder as to where the theory of ‘paucity’ of coinage comes from. I would argue that there are two main reasons for this: the first are the shortcomings on part of numismatists in assessing the data at their disposal in a contextual manner, going beyond the ‘compulsion to attribute’; and the second is the inability of historians to look out for and understand evidence from various disciplines, such as numismatics. Of course, the two are interconnected: numismatics and history have discursively emerged as two parallel streams that rarely merge with each other when it comes to assessment of historical processes! The most important shortcoming from a numismatic viewpoint is the methodological error of wrong attributions and the inability to comprehend some significant numismatic phenomena. There is ample evidence,

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across space and time, to suggest that coin-types undergo a ‘fossilization’ process. The main reason for this appears to be the popularity of a particular coin-type in circulation, which compels successive issuing authorities to keep on employing a popular design or type, copying it in all its elements, leading to successive coin-types that ‘ape’ the typological characteristics of the popular ‘prototype’. In some instances, an attributive element is apparent. For example, the silver coins of the ‘fan-tailed peacock’ type were first introduced by the Gupta ruler Kumaragupta, with a Sanskrit verse inscription mentioning his name on them. They became a popular type (vide supra) and many issuing authorities employed it, but in most cases they replaced the names of the Gupta rulers with their own names or titles in verse inscriptions. Thus, the Maukharis of Kanauj, copying the Gupta type, used their own names (for instance, Ishanavarman, Sarvavarman, etc.) in the legend, while Harshavardhana used his title ‘Shiladitya’ in it. In such cases, it is relatively easy for the numismatist to propose an attribution for the coin. But his task is made much more difficult when the issuing authorities did not clearly indicate who they were and carried on striking coins similar to the prototype, without making any significant alteration to the legends, motifs, weights, and metal. A good example of this in the period under consideration is the silver and base silver coins struck in Gujarat in the names of Kumaragupta and Skandagupta. Although primarily bearing the names of these two Gupta rulers, they went through a long phase of ‘posthumous’ issuing. This has been convincingly demonstrated in two studies on silver coins of Skandagupta and Kumaragupta by Maheshwari and Rath.67 To a numismatist who employs only the immediately apparent attributive aspects (such as coin inscriptions) to identify the coins, this poses a problem: in the example just cited all such coins would be classified as ‘Gupta’ issues, as they have the name of a Gupta ruler on them. The fact that they are, in reality, post-Gupta issues, as demonstrated by Maheshwari and Rath, is thus overlooked. In some other instances, the fact that the coins were struck in the name of a Gupta king is countered by other aspects which indicate that they were not, but here too, numismatists have placed more weight on the name that the coin bears and attributed such issues to the Guptas. For example, there are issues bearing the name of Skandagupta, but with ostensibly Shaivite motifs of a seated bull or Nandi.68 Judging by the fact that the Guptas were devout Vaishnavites, the occurrence of such motifs should have raised doubts in the minds of numismatists as regards their attribution. Other facts, such as the debased quality of the metal, similar to that in the ‘Fire Altar’ type coins of the same ruler discussed by Maheshwari and Rath,69 also suggest a similar chronological progression which would mean that these coins, too, were posthumous issues and should be assigned to the post-Gupta epoch. But both these aspects were overlooked in proclaiming the coins as Gupta issues. Numismatic scholarship has also suffered from erroneous attributions. This is mainly due to the fact that the nature of Brahmi script changed a lot

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in the post-Gupta epoch. A phase of regional stylisations emerged in palaeography which ultimately led to the formation of regional scripts towards the 10th century CE. These stylisations make reading the script a difficult task in the first place, and the way the inscriptions occur on coins makes it even more difficult. As a general rule, coins, by their very nature as small objects, offer a very limited space for inscribing inscriptions. Coin inscriptions of this period are often truncated, shortened; mention not the name but a title of the ruler. The fact that some of the coinages are ‘degradations’ of a prototype could mean that the execution of legends suffered degradation as well. All such aspects have led to many important coinages of the post-Gupta period being misidentified. I would give two examples here. The first is the case of the coins of the Pratihara ‘three-dot’ dramma series which have previously been published as coins of the first Gupta ruler Shri Gupta exclusively on the ground that the authors misread the inscriptions on them.70 This misattribution placed what were ostensibly 8th- or 9th-century-CE coins, several centuries earlier! The second is the instance of Rashtrakuta drammas bearing the inscription ‘Shri Gunatunga’, a title held by more than one Rashtrakuta ruler, dating between the 8th and 10th centuries CE. These were misread as ‘Shri Gana Sanga’ and attributed to Shankaragana, the son and successor of Krishnaraja, the 6th-century-CE Kalachuri ruler of Mahishmati who ruled from c. 575 CE to c. 600 CE.71 In both these instances, coins that were very clearly of the early medieval epoch were placed in the earlier period. Mistakes which exactly mirror this chronological disposition have also occurred in other cases, such as the coins of a 14th-century-CE Chahmana ruler Jaitra Simha which were attributed to the 7th-century-CE Pallava king Nrisimhavarman due to a misreading of the Nagari legend ‘Jaitsi Deva’ as ‘Nrusi Deva’!72 That many post-Gupta coins either cannot be attributed or have been attributed wrongly has contributed to many such coins being thrown off the ‘early medieval’ spectrum. This has been one of the most significant shortcomings of interpreting numismatic evidence that has been behind creating the ‘paucity’ theory. Also, the fact that these coins can seldom be attributed in specific terms has led to a general lack of interest in their collection by coin-collectors. As compared to them, their immediate chronological predecessors, the Gupta coins, were often recognised as the ‘apogee’ of Indian numismatic history, well and truly reflected in the ‘Golden Age’ paradigm of ‘Classical’ India. Due to a sustained interest of academics and collectors in them, they remain one of the best collected series of Indian coins. Consequently, their representation amongst collections, particularly institutional ones, is far more all other post-Gupta coinages, and many other series of pre-Gupta coinages as well. This creates a skewed picture of the post-Gupta coins in numerical terms. This particular point will bring us to the last topic in this re-assessment: the methodology of assessing ‘currency volume’ in early medieval times.

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The number game: problems of quantifying currency The problem of ‘estimating the volume’ of coins was outlined by Sharma.73 A cursory look at both Sharma’s and Deyell’s contributions show that they both concentrated on an assessment of how many coins were produced in the post-Gupta epoch and what was the estimate of ‘volume of currency’ in circulation. Deyell chiefly deployed hoard analysis to this effect: in his view, the number of coins (of particular types, rulers, denominations, etc.) surviving in hoards could be used to estimate how many such coins were minted. Deyell explicitly warned against treating museum collections of coins in numerical terms to make such an assessment. Notwithstanding this warning, Sharma did exactly that: he counted coins in various museum collections (in India and abroad) and drew, from their number, inferences about the quantity of coins produced or in circulation in their own times.74 He, thus, used museum collections of the present as a ‘numerical window’ for studying the economic conditions of the past. There are some basic problems with this approach: first, in the principle of treating museum collections as a database for such a purpose; and second, in Sharma’s treatment of the data itself. Here, it is worthwhile to make a point about the nature, composition and history of a museum collection of coins from the perspective of a museum curator. Museums acquire collections through certain processes: objects are donated, bequeathed or purchased. Objects could also be lent (on a short- or long-term basis) or exchanged, although this last method of acquisition has fallen from favour in recent decades. The collection inevitably reflects two situations: availability of funds to purchase objects and the individual curator’s academic and scholarly propensities. When the curator wants to make an acquisition, he finds the funds almost always limited and the coins that can be added to a comprehensive ‘study collection’ far too many, given the vast scope of numismatics. The curator is then faced with a choice and has to go for selective pieces depending on where the strength of the collection lies, in order to make it more worthwhile with a view to what the agendas, strategies and curatorial ‘vision’ of his institution demands. He often can concentrate on areas, themes or subjects which he has a particular penchant for. When coins are gifted or bequeathed by individual donors/collectors, they reflect similar biases. Collectors often face the same dilemmas as the curator: funds can be limited and the subject too vast; a collector often, therefore, retains a collecting focus depending on what he likes to collect. Indeed, famous collections are often known after the collector’s name or an ‘alias’ suggesting their ownership. Collectors collect by type-classification, so one coin of a particular type/variety/sub-variety, etc., usually suffices to merit its inclusion in a collection. Collectors also like coins that are attributed: in a ‘systematic collecting’ method, the system is mostly based on attribution. Coins that cannot be attributed usually tend not to be collected. Collectors are also driven by aesthetics: coins having aspects that appeal to a collector’s sensibilities are deemed more ‘collectible’.

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All these factors make a collection of coins in a museum a very subjective data set, influenced by factors that have nothing to do with how, why and when the coins were struck and, more significantly, how they circulated when they did. The reasons why they end up being in a collection are quite different from any historicity the coins may have had in such respects. With this reality in mind, it will be interesting to critique Sharma’s approach in discussing the ‘problems of quantification’. The method he laid out in the form of tables involved counting coins in various museum collections,75 such as the British Museum (London), the Andhra Pradesh State Museum (Hyderabad), the Patna Museum (Patna), the Prince of Wales Museum (Mumbai), the Bharat Kala Bhavan (Varanasi), the Central Museum (Indore), the National Museum (New Delhi), and the Indian Museum (Calcutta). He has also tabulated numismatic data from the Directorate of Archaeology, Maharashtra; the Asiatic Society of Bombay, Mumbai; and the Indian Institute of Research in Numismatic Studies (IIRNS), Nasik, which are not exactly ‘museums’ but numismatic data repositories in their own right. The tables show classification of coins under different headings – some specifically dynastic, such as ‘Gupta’, ‘Kushans’, ‘Tribal’, ‘Chauhans’, etc., while others more generally numismatic, using typological terms, such as ‘Punch-marked’, ‘Padmatanka’, ‘Bull and Horseman’, etc. The numismatic data corresponding to each such category is given in terms of the number of coins represented and is also tabulated against a chronological bracket/indicator. The quality of this data is far from satisfactory from a number of viewpoints. First, the IIRNS only maintains data from other institutions/collections in the form of a card-index. The data from some of the institutions independently consulted, such as the Patna Museum and the Asiatic Society of Bombay, is also represented in the data provided by the IIRNS. This has amounted to an unnecessary conflation and duplication of data. The choice of headings under which the data is tabulated by each institution appears to reflect the quality of how the data is classified and maintained in that respective institution. For example, in case of the Patna Museum, the Bharat Kala Bhavan and the National Museum, the classificatory dynastic/numismatic headings entirely vanish, leaving only the chronological brackets against the number of coins. In almost every instance of tabulation, there exist nonspecific collective categories, such as ‘later Kalachuri kings’ and ‘medieval dynasties of central and northern India’, not to mention a miscellaneous grouping generically named ‘others’. The Indian Museum data is curiously represented as two tables (11 and 12), the first supplied by the Director and the second tabulated from ‘catalogue published by Indian Museum, Calcutta’. The two tables show a considerable divergence in details. For example, Table 12 shows only 24 Kushan coins, while Table 11 shows 327! Table 12 lists only 27 coins of the post-Gupta and early medieval periods (c. 7th–12th century CE), while Table 11 shows a total of 372 coins that can collectively be attributed to this time bracket. It is conceivable that Table 12,

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based on the catalogue (details of which are not given anyway), might have only included selective/representational data, but, then, one would wonder why it needs to be presented in a tabulated form to bolster a discursive stance with respect to circulation of coins. The foregoing critique of the utility of museum collections in drawing inferences about the issue and circulation of coins, and the quality of data presented to that effect – both indicate that the methodology employed by Sharma to support his theory of ‘paucity of metallic coinage’ is far from adequate. The former Keeper of the Department of Coins and Medals in the British Museum even made Sharma aware of the misgivings of this methodological approach.76 But his analyses and inferences are not free from shortcomings either. One salient instance is his contention about the lack of ‘gold coinage’, for which he uses Rekha Jain’s numismatic study,77 which, in itself, is full of outdated numismatic observations. Jain indicates a ‘complete absence of gold coinage up to the 9th century’ (from 5th century CE onwards).78 The aforediscussed numismatic data amply proves that this, indeed, was absolutely not the case. The issue of gold coins was no doubt curtailed, but there are many examples of gold coins circulating in regions like Bengal, Sindh and Deccan. Jain also makes unsubstantiated statements like ‘the prevalence of gadhaiya coins in the 6th–12th century does not indicate a real revival (in issue of coinage) because these coins were mostly bullion pieces made as alloys of base silver or copper’!79 What exactly Jain means by this, is best known to her, but from a historian of Sharma’s eminence the reliance on such poor research, indeed, comes as a surprise. Another of Sharma’s positions, particularly in view of Deyell’s identification of an 8th–10th-century-CE currency composed of ‘Adivaraha’ and ‘Vigrahapala’ coins, is to suggest a later (‘late-10th or post-10th century’) dating for these coins.80 But Sharma’s discussion on the dating of these coins clearly indicates his unfamiliarity with these coins. First, he treated ‘Adivaraha’ and ‘Bhojadeva’ coins as separate entities, while any numismatist would agree that these, in fact, are one and the same! As regards ‘Adivaraha’ coins, he contended that ‘those who have examined these coins from other areas place them in the late tenth century on the basis of the form [Nagari] of writing’.81 To this effect, he cited an obscure work, ‘Ādivaraha Coins’ (1964), by one B. M. S. Parmar.82 He further contended that ‘they seem to have been issued by Vināyakapāladeva, a Gurjara-Pratihāra ruler’.83 The fact is that coins of Vinayakapala do exist, but they do not have the legend ‘Adivaraha’ on them. Instead, they bear the name of the king who issued them, i.e., Vinayakapala. Typologically, these coins are, no doubt, a successor to the ‘Adivaraha’ coins,84 which is only to be expected as Vinayaka was Bhoja’s close successor. After confusing Vinayakapala coins with Adivaraha, Sharma turned to ‘Bhojadeva’ coins and made the same pronouncement of dating them to the late-10th and post-10th centuries CE. The reason he gave is that ‘silver coins of Bhoja occur along with two gold coins of the Paramāra king Siddharāja’, citing information from Coin Hoards of Uttar Pradesh (1980) by A. K. Srivastava. Here again, Sharma completely overlooked the fact that

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no coins inscribed ‘Bhojadeva’ are known and the find he mentioned contains ‘Adivaraha’ coins, which Srivastava’s work expectedly names as coins of Bhoja because the attribution of ‘Adivaraha’ coins to Bhoja is a foregone numismatic conclusion. Moreover, there is very little evidence indicating that the ‘Siddhraja’ coins in this find are Paramara issues, but Sharma did not take this on board either. Sharma’s contentions about the date and attribution of the ‘Vigrahapala’ coins are also contentious, to say the least. In his view, these coins ‘cannot be earlier than the late tenth century’ on the basis of the ‘form of writing’. But these coins have only two or three letters on them – ‘Shri Vi/‘Shri Vi Gra’ – and occasionally one more – ‘Ma’ or ‘Sa’ – on the reverse.85 In many cases, not more than one or two are visible. Palaeography can be a reasonable indicator of date, but the evidence these coins offer on these grounds is far too slim to make a conclusive diagnosis of their date. Sharma treated the coins inscribed with ‘Shri Vi’ as separate from those inscribed with ‘Shri Vi Gra’ and contended that ‘Shri Vi’ could mean ‘Vinayakapala, Vijayapāla, Vikramāditya, Vigraharāja and Vigrahapāla’.86 In construing the coin legends to mean so many different names, Sharma completely ignored the numismatic typology that binds all ‘Shri Vi’ coins very closely, as also the numismatic logic of how and when the ‘Shri Vi’/‘Vi Gra’ coins emerged from particular antecedents. Maheshwari has called these as ‘protoShri Vigra Dramma’ coins and identified at least three different series in them.87 Equally absurd is Sharma’s reasoning that the ‘Shri Vi Gra’ coins be treated as separated from ‘Shri Vi’ coins (‘similarly ‘Śrī Vigra(ha) could cover Vigraharājas and Vigrahapālas of different dynasties’).88 Maheshwari has convincingly shown that not only ‘Shri Vi Gra’ and ‘Shri Vi’ coins are related,89 but also the typological aspects of the design of these coins suggest that ‘Shri Vi’ coins are later than ‘Shri Vi Gra’ coins and, in fact, run parallel with ‘Shri Adivaraha’ drammas in terms of their comparative numismatic chronology.90 Moreover, in treating them as possible issues of homonymous rulers from more than one dynasty, Sharma also ignored the evidence offered by the spread of their find-spots,91 which clearly indicates their issue and spread as part of a single issuing apparatus. There are other salient indicators to a lack of understanding of numismatic evidence on Sharma’s part. He often used terms like ‘dynastic coins’ to talk about paucity, but majority of the coins in this period are not even inscribed, let alone be termed as ‘dynastic’. The fact that they are not prima facie attributable to a particular dynasty does not indicate their disappearance from circulation. Sharma also appears to suggest that the general ‘quality’ of coinage in circulation was not good: there was a lot of debasement, the execution of the motifs was not of a high artistic merit and the extent of the circulation as indicated by their find-spots (as shown by Deyell in numerous ‘distribution’ maps) indicates a ‘more contracted’ picture as compared with find-spots of other series of Indian coins, such as Satavahanas or Western Kshatrapas. But again, these arguments amount to nothing but a ‘relativist reductionism’. The comparisons that Sharma invoked, be it

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with Gupta or Satavahana coins, have an entirely different historiography as to why their finds have been documented in larger numbers than those of early medieval coins. Sharma did not take into account this difference into his comparative assessment. Also, as I have indicated earlier, most numismatists have found these coins difficult to attribute because of a variety of reasons. Their classification, as given in hoard reports, is far from being reliable. Sharma himself contended, while discussing the coins of ‘Vigrahapala’ documented in the files of the Lucknow Museum, that ‘only very few coins from . . . [these] hoards were examined and the whole hoard was attributed to Vigrahapāla’.92 What Sharma’s work seems to lack is an understanding of how coinage and monetary systems worked. The absence of coins that can be ‘attributed with certainty’ does not mean the absence of coinage itself. Coins can remain unattributable for a variety of reasons, some of which have been stated earlier. The fact that they are unattributable contributes directly to a diminished collectors’ interest in such series, and a direct outcome of this is that they do not get a fair representation in museum collections. Other qualitative aspects, such as quality of documenting and cataloguing a collection, also affect the quality of such data. Treating museum collection as database for drawing inferences about ‘quantifying’ the volume of coinage in circulation is, therefore, a wholly inaccurate method of analysis. Sharma also appears to place an undue emphasis on the ‘quality’ of the coinage. Thus, according to him, the fact that the ‘so-called Pratihāra and other coins’ were made of base metals, were coated with silver, were of a lesser weight than predecessor coinages like the Kushans – all indicate that they ‘could hardly be useful for heavy transactions or for long-distance trade. They seem to have met the needs of local trade’.93 Also, the fact that there is a general lack of attributable gold coins is taken by him to corroborate this phenomenon. Deyell’s argument about the spread of Pratihara currency has been rubbished by him on more than one count: this area covered by the find-spots, as shown by Deyell, is only a third of the Pratihara empire, and there is ‘paucity’ of Pratihara coins in comparison with the Kushan, Satavahana and other series of predecessor coinages.94 Here again, Sharma appears to take Deyell’s data out of context: while Deyell’s maps clearly outline ‘districts’ in which the Pratihara coins have been found, Sharma noted, ‘According to Deyell they indicate find-spots’.95 Taken verbatim, this might be true, but the fact remains that Deyell’s maps present these find-spots as covering present-day ‘districts’. Maheshwari has given a table of the actual find-spots of Adivaraha drammas that fall within most of the districts that Deyell has highlighted.96 But Sharma took the number of districts covered in Deyell’s maps to be the number of find-spots, when he compared find-spots of other coins like those of Kushans or Satavahanas! This is clearly an error in comparison: if the finds of these other series of coins, too, were mapped by districts, they would yield a completely different distribution picture. Sharma’s analysis of Deyell’s data is thus flawed in representation. His interpretative

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approach is also similarly flawed, which becomes clear when he presents the evidence from a hoard of Pala coins from Naulagarh (Bihar), which contained some coins inscribed with ‘two letters śrī and vi, some . . . also carry[ing] the legend śrī viga, which is sometimes deciphered as śrī vipa’.97 From this description, these coins appear to be bog-standard Vigrahapala drammas. A footnote by Sharma gives an insight into how three individuals, namely R. S. Singh, Jagdishwar Pandeya and Sita Ram Roy grappled to come to terms with what the letters were,98 in spite of the fact that as a numismatic type these coins are extremely well known. But while it is ascertained that several thousands of these coins were found and only 289 were recovered by the State Archaeology Department, and that the publishers of these coins could not read the legends on these coins, Sharma relied on the views of Sita Ram Roy in attributing them to Vigrahapala II in the second half of the 10th century CE on the ground that they have ‘the least developed form of Nāgarī letters’ on them. Coins of the second category, apparently with ‘more developed letters’, were placed by Sharma, following Roy, in the second half of the 11th century CE, and some of these, according to Sharma, ‘certainly belong to the reign of Vigrahapāla III (AD 1054–71)’.99 The third category of coins were arbitrarily placed in the 12th century CE, without giving any evidence for this placement. He also admitted that such coins are ‘the largest in number’ amongst the recovered coins. Quite how this chronological sequence was justified is not outlined, but Sharma mentioned in another footnote: ‘I have attempted this chronological attribution on the basis of an examination of the material with the help of Sita Ram Roy’.100 What ‘help’ could a person who does not seem to be familiar with a very widely known coin-type of northern India, nor with the legends inscribed on them give in drawing an inference about their chronological sequencing, and what credibility can be attached to such an inference drawn exclusively on the ‘relativist’ interpretation of palaeographic features of legend containing two or three letters, remain questions to be answered! Factually, Sharma’s contention that the Pratihara coin-types only covered a third of the empire is also wrong: the spread of both ‘Adivaraha’ and ‘Vigrahapala’ coins is indicated by find-spots dotted all across north India. Other immediate or predecessor contemporary coinages, like the ‘three-dot’ Pratihara drammas, have been found from Rajasthan and Malwa in the west to Bihar in the east, and they acted as ‘prototypes’ for an 8th–9th-centuryCE coinage in Sindh. The fact that they were not recognised as Pratihara issues has contributed to their ‘disappearance’ from the spectrum of early medieval currency. Maheshwari, through a metallic analysis of coins, has indicated a strong possibility that much of the Indo-Sasanian coinage and its further derivatives constituted a ‘fiat’ or ‘token’ currency.101 Here again, we need to bear in mind that the mere physical attributes of a coin need not necessarily decide its utility in terms of circulation. The circulation of such coins often needed to be enabled through specialised agencies, such as the money-changers. The world we live in today is ruled by what necessarily is

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‘fiat’ or ‘token’ coinages: the coins we use today do not intrinsically have the value they bear on them, yet we happily use them, even those of smallest denominations like a penny or a cent which have very little ‘real value’ in day-to-day transactions. On the other hand, the fact that a ‘fiat’ or ‘token’ coinage existed in early medieval India points to an evolutionary ‘progress’ in terms of money use in the period. The possibility that it was rendered ‘circulatable’ through specialised agencies also indicates a decentralised approach the governments might have taken with regard to the issue of coins, with private individuals given a chance to join the enterprise, much like it was in the 18th–19th century CE. Such a possibility of ‘decentralised’ issue and circulation of coins is in congruence with the devolutionary trend we see in other matters of governance that characterises the early medieval period in India.

Quantifying coinage: the numismatic way Judging by Sharma’s contributions, we see that the main problem he faced was regarding the quantification of coinage. Indeed, as we have noted in the opening paragraphs of this chapter, his way of ‘problematising’ the early medieval period was to look at the volume of circulating currency in a quantifiable manner. But as our critique suggests, the methodology he adopted as a ‘window’ into this problem is inappropriate primarily because of the choice of ‘data-sets’ he made, and also because of his general unfamiliarity with numismatic techniques and methods that help in making such an assessment. I will elucidate a couple of such methods here which might show us the ‘way forward’ in case such an enterprise is to be taken up in future. Die analysis Coins are manufactured using tools known as dies which bear an engraved negative impression of motifs/legends that appeared on a coin. Usually, coins are manufactured using two such devices, one intended for each side of the coin. The method of coin manufacture in the pre-industrialised world involved one of these devices set in anvil, while the other was held free. A disc of metal was placed between the two and pressure was applied by using a hammer. The result was a ‘struck’ coin bearing positive impressions of the devices on the dies. The repeated application of force in such a manufacturing process caused the dies to wear, develop cracks and eventually break. Of course, the two dies did not develop such ‘process-related stresses’ at the same time: usually, the hammer die was first to give way. Broken devices were replaced with freshly made ones. As these were hand-engraved, they invariably had differences in execution, and these differences were transferred on the surface of the final product, i.e., the coins, where they can be discerned after a close comparison. The mismatch of one of the dies resulted in the two coins being ‘die-linked’ through the obverse or the reverse; coins

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made with a matching set of both dies are called ‘die-identical’. Since the process of die-making and the involvement of dies were integral parts of the manufacturing process of any coinage, a study of how many dies were employed in a given ‘sample’ of coin series can well be used for estimating the output of coins. The wider the sample withdrawn for study, the greater will be the probability of getting ‘closer to the truth’ and the more reliable will be the estimation. For example, a hoard of a given series of coins can be studied for ‘die variation’ encountered within it, as evident from its contents. The statistical methods giving an indication of a coin-issue depending on die-combinations are discussed extensively by Warren Esty.102 They include methods that assume an ‘equal die-output’ (based on the hypothesis that all dies produced equal number of coins) and those that do not assume equal die-outputs, i.e., work on the premise that dies did not regularly produce even approximately equal outputs. In the first category, Esty describes and discusses the ‘Lyon method’, the ‘Gilbaud Approximation’, the ‘Pairs Method’, the ‘Carcassone Method’, the ‘Schroeck Method’, and the ‘MoraMàs Method’. In the second category, he discusses the ‘Carter Method’, the ‘negative binomial method’, the ‘Muller Method’, and the ‘Good’s Method’. Most of these methods take into account various ‘estimators’ taking the number of dies used in the production of a sample as basic, and then combining that with other statistical and mathematically ‘probable’ aspects, such as the ‘coverage’ of a sample (the fraction of the number of coins struck by the dies observed in a sample, by the total number of coins struck by all the dies used in the coinage issue). As no such studies have been undertaken on any series of Indian coins (barring recent work on the Kushan gold coinage by Robert Bracey),103 it would not make much sense to discuss the applicability of such statistical methods to early medieval Indian coins. Without going into the specifics of such methods, the simple proposition at their basis could be considered as the general ‘indicator’ when it comes to estimating the ‘volume’ of coins in circulation: the lesser the number of dies encountered, the less extensive would be the issue and the more this variation, the more extensive would be the issue. Maheshwari has studied a number of hoards of Indo-Sasanian coins and has the following observation to make regarding the number of ‘die-linked’ or ‘die-identical’ coins that were encountered: [The Indo-Sasanian coinage] was a currency where despite its long circulation and the vast number of coins struck, no two coins seem to have been struck from a single die [sic]! Statisticians say this indicates that the hoards were derived from an extremely large original coin population [sic], of which only a small percentage managed to find its way into museum hoards and other collections.104 (The usage ‘no two coins from a single die’ obviously needs to be taken to mean that there were no die-links observed in the large number of coins the

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author examined. Also, it is evident that by ‘population’, the production of the coinage is intended to be referred to.) The observation incontrovertibly suggests that an exceptionally large volume of Indo-Sasanian coins were issued for circulation, perhaps far greater than any other coinages struck in India before they were. This means that the quantity they were issued in may well have sustained ‘high-value transactions’, and the extent of their find-spots also indicates that they travelled far and wide across the subcontinent. In fact, the availability of such a voluminous ‘fiat’ currency would have contributed to more precious metals like gold being driven out of monetary use and must have facilitated the stupendous accumulation of wealth in a non-monetary form in repositories like temples that we come across in Islamic accounts of pillage and plunder. Typological studies One of Sharma’s arguments, apart from deducing volume of currency in circulation by ‘counting coins in museums’, was to question whether some of the coin series, such as those outlined by Deyell as ‘Pratihara currencies’ of 8th–9th century CE, could be dated to that period. As we have seen in case of the Naulagarh hoard, Sharma did this on the shaky foundations of palaeography and archaeological data, both the description and interpretation of which were based on questionable methods of evidencing and interpretation. A numismatic method that can offer an insight into the dating of coin series that largely comprise of ‘imitations in continuity’ is to study how the series progresses through its imitative aspects. The derivation of the ‘Gadhaiya paisa’ coinage from an Indo-Sasanian prototype is a good example of how such a study can be done. Although it was recognised by numismatists almost a century ago,105 the full elucidation of how this degradation proceeds in a chronological fashion was not understood until Deyell laid its typological foundations,106 and Maheshwari proceeded further in chronologically arranging its various antecedents. Through tracing three specific Sasanian imperial issues as progenitors of an extensive north Indian currency, Maheshwari was able to allude to the typological dissemination of the Indo-Sasanian coins throughout Rajasthan, Malwa and the Ganga–Yamuna Divide. His study was also facilitated by chronological ‘markers’ evident in the series, such as the dateable issues of Chhittaraja of the Shilahara house of north Konkan; Somaladevi, the Chahmana queen of Sambhar; and Hammiradeva, the Chahmana king of Ranthambhore. But Maheshwari was also successful in metallurgically corroborating his study of the Indo-Sasanian coinage. By analysing samples of coins from respective stages of typological degradation, he could establish a direct correlation between the two: type degradation and metallic debasement. Thus, we have a reasonably well-laidout pattern to map the degradation against a chronological spectrum.

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Conclusion: space for change Scientific methods like die analysis and type degradation compared with metallic debasement offer us a much better insight into the currency landscape of early medieval India. Combining this with the presence of other widespread coinages like the drammas and the nondegradative, attributable and unattributable, inscribed and uninscribed coins from several other series that we can safely place in the 500–1000 CE bracket, it is very clear that there was no ‘paucity of metallic coinage’ in this time period. To summarise the main arguments of this chapter: 1

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The perceived ‘paucity’ of coinage in 500–1000 CE is a result of historians like R S. Sharma taking an ‘a priori’ approach to justify certain long-held postulations. It is not a numismatic reality by any means. The inferences drawn from numismatic evidence to demonstrate the ‘paucity’ are a result of a number of shortcomings in gathering, analysing and presenting the numismatic data. Some reasons for this are vested in the coinages themselves; prevalence of coins that are difficult (or indeed impossible) to attribute is one of the main reasons. The other reasons appear to do more with ideological presentations of historical ‘models’ than with ground realities insofar as coinage was concerned. The inability or incompetence of numismatists to identify and attribute many coins of this period has led to an effective portrayal of the situation of early medieval coinage as a ‘vacuum’ that needs to be explained. The method of treating museum collections of coins in terms of numerical strength in order to draw any inferences about coin circulation and ‘volume of currency’ is grossly inadequate. The data set the method employs and engineers towards producing such inferences is not, by any means, empirical in its utility as such. It is an outcome of various contemporary factors that have nothing to do with the way the coins were issued and circulated in their own times. The question of quantifying the currency output in itself is a valid methodological proposition. There are numismatic methods available that can answer this question with a certain degree of accuracy. From a methodological and analytical viewpoint, these methods are far better than that of ‘counting coins’, the attribution of many of which is difficult to ascertain in the available data sets in any case. Available numismatic data and its analysis through the use of sound numismatic methods suggest that there was undoubtedly a change in the way coinage was produced and circulated in post-Gupta India. To understand this change and the way it affected the economy is a task that requires a fresh start. However, generalisations, such as ‘there were no gold coins’, ‘major dynasties did not issue any coins’, ‘all coinage

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Shailendra Bhandare was debased’, ‘there was a contraction and localisation of coinage in terms of issue and circulation’, are at best applicable only in certain geographical instances and at worst, completely fallacious. The fact there was hardly any ‘paucity of metallic coinages’ in India in 500–1000 CE has serious implications for the present understanding of how trade and other economic affairs of various states were carried out in that epoch. An aspect that I have not touched upon at all in this chapter is the circulation of foreign coins in India in this period and the re-assessment of archaeological data that has bearing on the ‘deurbanisation’ model proposed by Sharma. It is hoped that this chapter serves more like a ‘pointer’ in understanding how our knowledge of the early medieval epoch has been shaped in the past few decades, and why and how we need to re-address some basic premises that it stands upon.

Notes 1 R. S. Sharma, Indian Feudalism, 2nd edn, New Delhi: Macmillan India Ltd., 1998 [1965], rpt. 2 For general narrative, see R. C. Majumdar, et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, Vol. 4: The Age of Imperial Kanauj, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1964; K. A. Nilakanta Sastri, A History of South India: From Prehistoric Times to the Fall of the Vijayanagar, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1975 [1955], Chapters 8–10. 3 R. S. Sharma, Urban Decay in India, c. 300–1000 CE, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1987; Early Medieval Indian Society: A Study in Feudalisation, Kolkata: Orient Longman, 2001. 4 R. S. Sharma dates Gautamiputra’s reign to the 2nd century CE, but it has been convincingly shown that his dates are more appropriately to be placed in the 1st century CE. See Shailendra Bhandare, ‘Historical Analysis of the Satavahana Era: A Study of Coins’, PhD dissertation, University of Mumbai, 1999; Joe Cribb, ‘Numismatic Evidence for the Date of Periplus’, in David William MacDowall, Savita Sharma and Sanjay Garg (eds.), Indian Numismatics, History, Art and Culture: Essays in Honour of P. L. Gupta, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1992, pp. 131–45. 5 Sharma, Indian Feudalism, p. 220. 6 Ibid., pp. 52–3. 7 Ibid., p. 221. 8 R. S. Sharma, ‘Coins and Problems of Early Indian Economic History’, Journal of the Numismatic Society of India, 1969, 31: 8. 9 M. Stewart, ‘Review of Urban Decay in India (c. 300–c. 1000), by R. S. Sharma’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies (BSOAS), 1991, 54(1): 176–7. 10 Brajadulal Chattopadhyaya, The Making of Early Medieval India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1994. 11 André Wink, Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, Vol. 1: Early Medieval India and the Expansion of Islam, 7–11th Centuries, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1991, pp. 221–2. 12 John S. Deyell, Living without Silver: The Monetary History of Early Medieval North India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1990. 13 Ibid., p. 13. 14 Ibid.

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15 R. S. Sharma, ‘Paucity of Metallic Coinage (c. 500–c. 1000)’, in Early Medieval Indian Society: A Study in Feudalisation, Kolkata: Orient Longman, 2001, pp. 119–62. 16 Deyell, Living without Silver, p. 4. 17 D. K. Ojha and Shiva Kant Tiwari, ‘A Critique of Numismatic Approaches to Early Medieval Trade’, in Sitaram Dubey (ed.), Methodology of Numismatic Study and History-Writing, New Delhi: Research India Press, 2012, pp. 89–96. 18 Ibid., p. 93. 19 Ibid., p. 96. 20 K. Vondrovec, ‘Numismatic Evidence of the Alchon Huns Reconsidered’, Beiträge zur Ur- und Frühgeschichte Mitteleuropas (BUFM), 2008, 50: 25–56; ‘Coinage of the Nezak’, in M. Alram, D. Klimburg-Salter, M. Inaba and M. Pfisterer (eds.), Coins, Art and Chronology II: The First Millennium C.E. in the IndoIranian Borderlands, Vienna: Logo des Akademieverlags, 2010, pp. 169–90. 21 Alexander Cunningham, Coins of Mediaeval India: From the Seventh Century Down to the Muhammadan Conquests, Varanasi: Indological Book House, 1967 [1894]. 22 Ibid., p. 27. 23 Todywalla Auctions, no. 65, part 1, lot nos 28 and 29, 7 September 2012, Mumbai. 24 Cunningham, Coins of Mediaeval India, p. 29. 25 M. Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values: Non-Islamic States and Western Colonies, A.D. 600–1979, London: Hawkins Publications, 1979, pp. 37–9, catalogue nos. 159–96. 26 Robert Tye, ‘Dammas, Daniqs and ‘Abd al-Malek’, Oriental Numismatic Society Newsletter, 1996, 148: 7–10. 27 P. Tandon, ‘More Early Medieval Portrait Coins of the Yashaaditya Series’, Journal of the Oriental Numismatic Society, 2008, 195: 17–23. 28 Cunningham, Coins of Mediaeval India, p. 48. 29 Deyell, Living without Silver, pp. 114–24, 134–42. 30 K. K. Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity: Tracking the Silver Coinage of Early Medieval India, Nasik: IIRNS Publications, 2010. 31 Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values, p. 53, nos 304–12. 32 Ibid., p. 61, nos 384–97. 33 Ibid., p. 58, nos 340–8. 34 Pratipal Bhatia, ‘Note on Physical Distribution of the Indo-Sasanian, Śrī Vigra(ha), Śrī Vi and Śrī ādivarāha Coins in the Ganga Valley (AD 700–1000)’, Journal of the Numismatic Society of India, 1988, 50: 99–108. 35 Deyell, Living without Silver, p. 29. 36 Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values, p. 50, nos 269–76. 37 Ibid., p. 55, nos 313–21. 38 M. Mitchiner, The Land of Water: Coinage and History of Bangladesh and Later Arakan, Circa 300 BC to the Present Day, London: Hawkins Publications, 2000. 39 P. Tandon, ‘A Gold Coin of the Pala King Dharmapala’, Numismatic Chronicle, 2006, 166: 327–33. 40 Cf. Ibid., p. 331. 41 Mitchiner, The Land of Water. 42 Dietrich Mahlo, The Early Coins of Myanmar (Burma): Messengers from the Past: Pyu, Mon, and Candras of Arakan (First Millennium AD), Bangkok: White Lotus Press, 2012. 43 P. Kulkarni, ‘Coins of the Vakatakas’, Numismatic Digest, 2001–02, 25–26: 70–8. 44 Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values, p. 50, nos 277–86.

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45 V. V. Mirashi, Corpus Inscriptionum Indicarum (CII), vol. 4, Ootacamund: Government Epigraphist for India, 1955: 146–54. 46 S. J. Mangalam, ‘Inscribed Post-Vakataka Coins in Maharashtra’, in K. V. Raman, et al. (eds.), Studies in South Indian Coins, vol. 7, Chennai: New Era, 1992. 47 Shailendra Bhandare, ‘Coins of the Rashtrakutas’, Numismatic Digest, 1996, 20: 71–6. 48 Shailendra Bhandare, ‘A Copper Coin of Rashtrakuta Dhruva’, Indian Institute for Numismatic Studies (IIRNS) Newsline, July 2000. 49 Classical Numismatic Gallery, Auction no. 2, lot no. 38, 18 December 2010, Mumbai. 50 Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values, p. 51, nos 287–94. 51 It was published in S. Gokhale, ‘Coins Found in the Excavations at Sanjan’, Journal of Indian Ocean Archaeology, 2004, 1: 107–12, but erroneously attributed. 52 For example, see Todywalla Auctions, no. 70, lot 500, 29 December 2012, Kolkata. 53 M. Mitchiner, The Coinage and History of Southern India, Part 1: KarnatakaAndhra, London: Hawkins Publications, 1998, p. 103, nos 179–82; 104–5. 54 Mitchiner, The Coinage and History of Southern India, p. 131. 55 Ibid., p. 132. 56 Stan Goron and J. P. Goenka, The Coins of the Indian Sultanates, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2001, p. xxi. 57 Shailendra Bhandare, ‘Coinage at the Crossroads: The Monetary Heritage of Sindh’, in Pratapaditya Pal (ed.), Sindh: Past Glory, Present Nostalgia, Mumbai: Marg Publications, 2008, p. 41. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid. 60 John S. Deyell, ‘Reinterpretation of a Samatata Coin: The First Numismatic Depiction of Bodhisattva Manjushri’, in Shailendra Bhandare and Sanjay Garg (eds.), Felicitas: Essays in Numismatics, Epigraphy and History in Honour of Joe Cribb, Mumbai: Reesha Books International, 2011. 61 Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity, pp. 281–99. 62 Ibid., p. 282. 63 Ibid., p. 287. 64 Tye, ‘Dammas, Daniqs and ‘Abd al-Malek’. 65 K. K. Maheshwari and B. Rath, ‘Fire Altar Type Coins of Skandagupta: Towards a Typological and Chronological Definition’, in K. K. Maheshwari and B. Rath (eds.), Numismatic Panorama: Essays in the Memory of Late S. M. Shukla, New Delhi: Harnam Publishing House, 1996; ‘Garuda Type Silver Coins of Kumaragupta Reconsidered’, in Amal Kumar Jha and Sanjay Garg (eds.), Ex Moneta: Essays on Numismatics, History, and Archaeology in Honour of Dr. David W. MacDowall, New Delhi: Harnam Publishing House, 1998. 66 Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity, pp. 190, 201–3, 206–8, 267–8. 67 Maheshwari and Rath, ‘Fire Altar Type Coins’; ‘Garuda Type Silver Coins’. 68 Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values, p. 609, nos 4879–82. 69 Maheshwari and Rath, ‘Garuda Type Silver Coins’. 70 L. C. Gupta and S. J. Mangalam, Silver Coins of Sri Gupta, Hyderabad, India: Numismatic Society of Hyderabad, 1994. 71 Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values: Non-Islamic States and Western Colonies, p. 51, nos 287–90. 72 Ibid., p. 116, nos 696–700. 73 Sharma, ‘Coins and Problems’. 74 Sharma, Early Medieval Indian Society. 75 Ibid., pp. 154–62. 76 Personal communication with Joe Cribb, 15 October 2012.

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77 Rekha Jain, Ancient India Coinage: A Systematic Study of Money Economy from Janapada Period to Early Medieval Period (600 BC to AD 1200), New Delhi: D. K. Printworld, 1995. 78 Ibid., p. 215. 79 Ibid., pp. 179, 206. 80 Sharma, Early Medieval Indian Society, pp. 133–5. 81 Ibid., p. 134. 82 Ibid., n. 58. 83 Ibid., p. 134. 84 Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity, pp. 277–8. 85 Ibid., p. 244. 86 Sharma, Early Medieval Indian Society, p. 135. 87 Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity, pp. 241–2. 88 Sharma, Early Medieval Indian Society, p. 135. 89 Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity, pp. 243–4. 90 Ibid., pp. 240, 243–5. 91 Bhatia, ‘Note on Physical Distribution’. 92 Sharma, Early Medieval Indian Society, p. 134. 93 Ibid., p. 138. 94 Deyell, Living without Silver, pp. 27–9. 95 Sharma, Early Medieval Indian Society, p. 136. 96 Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity, pp. 262–3. 97 Sharma, Early Medieval Indian Society, p. 137. 98 Ibid., p. 137, n. 75. 99 Ibid., p. 137. 100 Ibid., n. 76. 101 Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity, p. 191. 102 Warren Esty, ‘Estimating the Size of a Coinage: A Survey and Comparison of Methods’, Numismatic Chronicle, 1986, 146: 185–215. 103 See www.kushan.org/bibliography/kcp.htm (accessed on 4 September 2014). 104 Maheshwari, Imitations in Continuity, p. 308. 105 G. P. Taylor, ‘On the Gadhaiya Coins of Gujarat’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal Numismatic Supplement, 1904, 3: 368–73, Plate nos VIII–IX. 106 See Deyell, Living without Silver, pp. 133–43, for a study of Gadhaiya coins from Malwa.

Select references Bhandare, Shailendra, ‘Coins of the Rashtrakutas’, Numismatic Digest, 1996, 20: 71–6. ———, ‘Historical Analysis of the Satavahana Era: A Study of Coins’, PhD dissertation, University of Mumbai, 1999. ———, ‘A Copper Coin of Rashtrakuta Dhruva’, Indian Institute for Numismatic Studies (IIRNS) Newsline, July 2000. ———, ‘Coinage at the Crossroads: The Monetary Heritage of Sindh’, in Pratapaditya Pal (ed.), Sindh: Past Glory, Present Nostalgia, Mumbai: Marg Publications, 2008, pp. 36–49. Bhatia, Pratipal, ‘Note on Physical Distribution of the Indo-Sasanian, Śrī Vigra(ha), Śrī Vi and Srī ādivarāha Coins in the Ganga Valley (AD 700–1000)’, Journal of the Numismatic Society of India, 1988, 50: 99–108. Chattopadhyaya, Brajadulal, The Making of Early Medieval India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1994.

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Cribb, Joe, ‘Numismatic Evidence for the Date of Periplus’, in David William MacDowall, Savita Sharma, and Sanjay Garg (eds.), Indian Numismatics, History, Art and Culture: Essays in Honour of P. L. Gupta, New Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1992, pp. 131–45. Cunningham, Alexander, Coins of Mediaeval India: From the Seventh Century Down to the Muhammadan Conquests, Varanasi: Indological Book House, 1967 [1894]. Deyell, John S. ‘Numismatic Methodology in the Estimation of Mughal Coinage Output’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, 1976, 13(3): 393–403. ———, Living without Silver: The Monetary History of Early Medieval North India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1990. ———, ‘Reinterpretation of a Samatata Coin: The First Numismatic Depiction of Bodhisattva Manjushri’, in Shailendra Bhandare and Sanjay Garg (eds.), Felicitas: Essays in Numismatics, Epigraphy and History in Honour of Joe Cribb, Mumbai: Reesha Books International, 2011. Esty, Warren, ‘Estimating the Size of a Coinage: A Survey and Comparison of Methods’, Numismatic Chronicle, 1986, 146: 185–215. Gokhale, S., ‘Coins Found in the Excavations at Sanjan’, Journal of Indian Ocean Archaeology, 2004, 1: 107–12. Goron, Stan and J. P. Goenka, The Coins of the Indian Sultanates, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 2001. Gupta, L. C. and S. J. Mangalam, Silver Coins of Sri Gupta, Hyderabad, India: Numismatic Society of Hyderabad, 1994. Jain, Rekha, Ancient India Coinage: A Systematic Study of Money Economy from Janapada Period to Early Medieval Period (600 BC to AD 1200), New Delhi: D. K. Printworld, 1995. Kulkarni, P., ‘Coins of the Vakatakas’, Numismatic Digest, 2001–02, 25–26: 70–8. Maheshwari, K. K., Imitations in Continuity: Tracking the Silver Coinage of Early Medieval India, Nasik: IIRNS Publications, 2010. Maheshwari, K. K. and B. Rath, ‘Fire Altar Type Coins of Skandagupta: Towards a Typological and Chronological Definition’, in K. K. Maheshwari and B. Rath (eds.), Numismatic Panorama: Essays in the Memory of Late S. M. Shukla, New Delhi: Harnam Publishing House, 1996, pp. 179–94. ———, ‘Garuda Type Silver Coins of Kumaragupta Reconsidered’, in Amal Kumar Jha and Sanjay Garg (eds.), Ex Moneta: Essays on Numismatics, History, and Archaeology in Honour of Dr. David W. MacDowall, New Delhi: Harnam Publishing House, 1998, pp. 293–320. Mahlo, Dietrich, The Early Coins of Myanmar (Burma): Messengers from the Past: Pyu, Mon, and Candras of Arakan (First Millennium AD), Bangkok: White Lotus Press, 2012. Majumdar, R. C., et al. (eds.), The History and Culture of the Indian People, Vol. 4: The Age of Imperial Kanauj, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1964. Mangalam, S. J., ‘Inscribed Post-Vakataka Coins in Maharashtra’, in K. V. Raman, et al. (eds.), Studies in South Indian Coins, vol. 7, Chennai: New Era, 1992, pp. 67–72. Mirashi, V. V., Corpus Inscriptionum Indicarum (CII), vol. 4, Ootacamund: Government Epigraphist for India, 1955. Mitchiner, M., Oriental Coins and Their Values: The Ancient and Classical World, 600 B.C.-A.D. 650, London: Hawkins Publications, 1978. ———, Oriental Coins and Their Values: Non-Islamic States and Western Colonies, A.D. 600-1979, London: Hawkins Publications, 1979.

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———, The Coinage and History of Southern India, Part 1: Karnataka-Andhra, London: Hawkins Publications, 1998. ———, The Land of Water: Coinage and History of Bangladesh and Later Arakan, Circa 300 BC to the Present Day, London: Hawkins Publications, 2000. Ojha, D. K. and Shiva Kant Tiwari, ‘A Critique of Numismatic Approaches to Early Medieval Trade’, in Sitaram Dubey (ed.), Methodology of Numismatic Study and History-Writing, New Delhi: Research India Press, 2012, pp. 89–96. Sastri, K. A. Nilkanta, A History of South India: From Prehistoric Times to the Fall of the Vijayanagar, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1975 [1955]. Sharma, R. S., ‘Coins and Problems of Early Indian Economic History’, Journal of the Numismatic Society of India, 1969, 31: 1–8. ———, Urban Decay in India, c. 300–1000 CE, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1987. ———, Indian Feudalism, 2nd edn, New Delhi: Macmillan India Ltd., 1998 [1965], rpt. ———, Early Medieval Indian Society: A Study in Feudalisation, Kolkata: Orient Longman, 2001. Stewart, M., ‘Review of Urban Decay in India (c. 300–c. 1000) by R. S. Sharma’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies (BSOAS), 1991, 54(1): 176–7. Tandon, P., ‘A Gold Coin of the Pala King Dharmapala’, Numismatic Chronicle, 2006, 166: 327–33. ———, ‘More Early Medieval Portrait Coins of the Yashaaditya Series’, Journal of the Oriental Numismatic Society, 2008, 195: 17–23. Taylor, G. P., ‘On the Gadhaiya Coins of Gujarat’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal Numismatic Supplement, 1904, 3: 368–73, Plate nos VIII–IX. Tye, Robert, ‘Dammas, Daniqs and ‘Abd al-Malek’, Oriental Numismatic Society Newsletter, 1996, 148: 7–10. Vondrovec, K., ‘Numismatic Evidence of the Alchon Huns Reconsidered’, Beiträge zur Ur- und Frühgeschichte Mitteleuropas (BUFM), 2008, 50: 25–56. ———, ‘Coinage of the Nezak’, in M. Alram, D. Klimburg-Salter, M. Inaba, and M. Pfisterer (eds.), Coins, Art and Chronology II: The First Millennium C.E. in the Indo-Iranian Borderlands, Vienna: Logo des Akademieverlags, 2010, pp. 169–90. Wink, André, Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, Vol. 1: Early Medieval India and the Expansion of Islam, 7–11th Centuries, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996.

8

Colonial imagination and identity attribution Numismatic cues for defining space Mamta Dwivedi

Scholars have often criticised the rigidity of categorisations, methodology and techniques in the study of ancient past. Upendra Thakur remarks on this stagnancy: ‘[B]asic elements of historical restructuring have remained fossilised in the contributions of the early 20th century, so far as ancient Indian history is concerned’.1 He further states: ‘Methodologies employed by specialists have remained essentially antiquarian, confined to the decipherment and classification of material on their hands’.2 Models that evolved were linear and compartmental in nature, not allowing a wider contextual analysis. Thomas R. Trautmann, in his critical exploration of colonial cultures, questions the categories and entities developed in the colonial period.3 ‘The racial theory of Indian civilisation’, according to him, was based entirely on the construct of ‘race’ in the Indian context. He refutes the projection of such colonial constructs on to the distant Indian past.4 A similar concern is raised by Himanshu Prabha Ray: ‘[I]t is crucial to address the “coloniality of power” and the rigid hierarchies imposed between different knowledge systems in the colonial period and the extent to which they remain unquestioned and continue to be reproduced in post-colonial writings’.5 This chapter focuses on one such issue of fixation in the study of early historical coins with colonial categories, i.e., the ‘imperial’ versus ‘tribal’ coins. Under discussion here are the types of copper coins bearing the legend janasya, ganasya, or janapada or the names of the issuing community. These coins, since the colonial period, have continued to be studied as ‘tribal’ coins. To this category the coins that are placed belong to the Yaudheyas, Arjunayanas, Sibis, Trigartas, Rajanyas, Kunindas, Malavas, and Audumbaras. On the basis of the sites of coin finds, they are placed in the western regions of the Indian subcontinent.6 The territories of these communities have been identified primarily on the basis of the distribution of their coins. These coins were generally struck in copper and bronze, with some silver ones (attributed to a relatively later period). These are circular, though generally with unfinished edges. The coins are commonly die-struck, though clay moulds have also been found for some types.7 However, the authenticity of the moulds is debatable. The tribal coins date from the interregnum period, between c. 2nd century BCE and c. 4th century CE.

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Starting with the examination of how categories were formulated for early Indian coins by the colonial scholars, this study also traces how the colonial numismatic methods and categories have been followed and reproduced by many scholars even up to the present time – a practice that may have been the result of their unquestioning acceptance of these methods and categories. The numismatic studies in pre-independence India may be divided into two phases: (a) collection and decipherment, from 1784 to 1900, when coins were collected through explorations, gifted or sold to museums, and dated with the decipherment of Brahmi and Kharoshti scripts; and (b) cataloguing and categorisation, from 1900 to 1947, when various museum collections were organised, classified and catalogued.

Beginning of numismatography: collections and cabinets Inquiries into the Indian past by antiquarians and scholars had various motivations: they started with individual interest and treasure hunts and ultimately resulted in institutionally organised translation exercises and geographical surveys. The possible motivations for the explorations of past have been differently explained by post-colonial scholars. Bernard S. Cohn explains that when the British established their new empire, they tried to comprehend it using their own frameworks of reference.8 To the educated Englishman of the late 18th and early 19th centuries, the world was to be comprehended in empirical terms. To him, the society could be comprehended and represented as a series of facts, and ‘administrative power stemmed from the efficient use of these facts’.9 The accuracy of information and facts about India that were to be collected seemed to be a responsibility that the Indologists assumed. The emphasis on the importance of empiricism may be noted in James Prinsep’s address: What the learned world demands of us in India, is to be quite certain of our data, to place the monumental record before them exactly as it now exists, and to interpret it faithfully and literally, as the document says itself, “without exaggeration and without extenuation.”10 History, for the British, was the key to understanding how the real and natural worlds were constituted and, thus, history in the broadest sense was conceived of as a site of debate over the ends and means of their rulership in India. The British conceived the governance of India by codifying and reinstituting the governance practices that had been developed by the erstwhile states and rulers.11 While the study of history of India had its own purposes for the British, it is important to note the sources that were being used by them. The first stage of knowing about India was that of learning the local languages: learning ‘Classical’ Persian, Arabic and Sanskrit, as well as the ‘vernacular’ languages was understood to be the prerequisite form of knowledge for all others, and the first educational institutions that the British established in India were

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to teach their own officials Indian languages. The knowledge of languages was necessary for issuing commands, collecting taxes, maintaining law and order, and creating other forms of knowledge about the people they were ruling.12 In 1770s, under Warren Hastings, ‘governmental purposes’ provided impetus to the production of Orientalist knowledge of India.13 His Judicial Plan of 1772 resolved to adhere to laws in the ‘Shaster with respect to Gentoos’ and in the ‘Koran with respect of Mahometans’.14 This was the period when the ancient texts were being ‘discovered’ and studied, and their translations were being carried out by Indologists interested in knowing about India’s past and understanding her traditions. Trautmann calls this the phase of ‘Indomania’.15 For this purpose, in 1784, the Asiatic Society of Bengal was established in Calcutta under the presidentship of William Jones. From 1788, it started publishing its transactions under the name of Asiatick Researches. It was to appeal to all ‘naturalists, chemists, antiquaries, philologers, and men of sciences from different parts of Asia’ to ‘commit their observations to writing, and sending them to the Asiatic Society at Calcutta’.16 Soon, a museum was proposed to be established by the Society, but it could only be established in 1814. It was from then that the Society could have a repository of its own artefacts. The second stage of colonial probing included the study of the tangible objects of past: the stone edicts of Ashoka, copper-plate inscriptions, architectural remains, and coins. Prinsep’s successful decipherment of the Brahmi and Kharoshti scripts remains his unparalleled contribution to the study of inscriptions and coins. This feat of his enabled the identification of Ashoka from his edicts, and of Kushanas and many other rulers from their numismatic issues. His career with coins started with his apprenticeship under the Assay Master of the Royal Mint in London. In 1820, he reached India and was appointed first as Assistant Assay Master at Calcutta Mint and then as Assay Master at the newly established Benaras Mint, where he developed an interest in Indian culture. In 1830, with the closure of the Benaras Mint, he was recalled to the Calcutta Mint as Deputy Assay Master. His literary pursuits were the result of his stint at Benaras Mint, and, on his return to Calcutta, got him appointment to the post of Secretary of Asiatic Society in the same year. The period from 1834 to 1837 were the most fruitful for his study of early historical indigenous coins. It was in this period that he successfully deciphered the Brahmi script as well. From 1838, when he retired to his home because of ill health, and then after his death in 1840, the progress in the study of coins was adversely affected. While Prinsep was alive, the collection of coins and publication of numismatic studies by scholars was a coordinated effort, but now the scholars found and studied the coins on their own and published independently. There were various factors that triggered Prinsep’s interest in the study of inscriptions and coins. First, in 1832, after the death of Colonel Mackenzie, the museum of the Society received the duplicates of coins in his large collection through the generosity of the Government of Bengal.17 This provided

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Prinsep a good amount of exposure to coins. Second, the new educational policy introduced by Governor General William Bentinck favoured the dissemination of Western knowledge over indigenous forms of learning, and, as a result, the flow of funds for the printing of ancient texts almost stopped. Third, since the East India Company’s currency system was going to be overhauled with the coming of the new constitution, interest in the past coinage of India was natural. And this development had its greatest influence on Prinsep who, as the Assay Master at the Calcutta Mint, submitted a project proposal to the government in 1833 for reform in the weights and measures and, shortly thereafter, another proposal for the introduction of uniform coinage.18 Fourth, 1830s was also a period of explorations in Central Asia by Captain Alexander Burnes, in Kabul by Charles Masson, in Punjab by Jean-Baptiste Ventura and Claude Auguste Court, and in Sarnath by Alexander Cunningham. Coins and other antiquities collected by these ‘field archaeologists’ and ‘travelling antiquarians’, as Prinsep called them,19 were forwarded to Calcutta to be deciphered and explained by him.

Making of collections: surveys, explorations and purchases Alexander Cunningham started his career as a surveyor, and it was in the course of his surveys and explorations that he came across antiquities, especially coins. Throughout his writings, he showed a special interest in what he called ‘the Buddhist period of India’. For studying the geography of this period, he followed the routes traversed by Alexander during his campaigns in the north-west and by the Chinese pilgrim Xuanzang during his travels.20 Cunningham was the first to take a definite step toward the study of ancient Indian coins. His career in numismatics started with his paper on certain Roman coins found in the Manikyala stupa in present-day Pakistan, in 1834.21 During the early 1840s, Cunningham wrote on the coins of the Bactrian and Indo-Scythian rulers. One of his earliest endeavours in writing that later determined his style of making survey reports and discussing antiquities was the description of his visit to Kashmir, where he collected 1000 coins, mostly from the Bij-Bihara region. He describes the coins as dating from the beginning of the Christian era to the 16th century. Apart from geographical surveys, he made the first of the ethnographic surveys. He possessed more trust in the antiquities he found as sources for the study of the past, than in the ancient Indian texts. This bias is visible in the proposal he made for archaeological investigations instead of engaging only with the texts.22 In view of the absence of any reference to Buddhism in the Brahmanical texts, he considered investigation in the history of Buddhism as important as that in the history of Brahmanism and, therefore, applied for permission to explore the Buddhist sites. What is important to note here is that he also proposed the creation of a centrally organised body that would introduce a system of explorations and excavations.23 His endeavours resulted in the establishment of the Archaeological Survey of India

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(ASI) in 1861, of which he was appointed the Surveyor. Since then, Cunningham developed interest in the collection and study of coins. In 1860, he published a list of 65 coins available for sale or exchange.24 He made attempts to ascribe regions to various coins and to classify them accordingly. His works, thus, describe the coins of indigenous origin on the basis of their local provenance or find-spots. His methods of study were very different from those of scholars before or after him. Unlike other scholars, he did not make selective collections; rather, he studied everything he found and made reference to them. In the case of tribal coins, which he ascribed to the local inhabitants, he also attempted an ethnographic study of the people, whom he considered successors of those associated with the issuance of the coins. Even though the tribal coins came to be recognised as such in the late 1830s, very little work on them in comparison to that on the imperial coins was done. This was because of the inability of the then scholars to identify and allocate them to their regions of provenance. It was only when Cunningham started his survey of various regions, especially Punjab, that he could relate the names of the communities mentioned on the coins with many contemporary communities. During his survey in Punjab, he identified many modern communities as the descendents of early tribes. For instance, he suggested the probability of the Dahmeri or Damhari as the survival of the original Audumbara.25 He identified the Kunet community living in the river valleys of the Beas and Sutlej with the historical Kunindas or Kulindas mentioned in the Markandeya and Vishnu Puranas.26 Further, he identified the ancient Yaudheyas with the modern Johiyas along the Bahawalpur frontier,27 and the Sibis with the Saibas of the country of Saiwalika or Sivalik.28 He then published a detailed study of the coins of these communities in 1891.29 Cunningham was the first to point that the ‘natives’ of India had the knowledge of coin manufacture even before Alexander’s arrival in the subcontinent. Earlier, in 1832, Prinsep had noted the absence of any ‘native’ currency in ancient India. In Prinsep’s words, ‘[T]he Indo-Grecian coins of Major Tod, are evidently descendents from the Bactrian coinage, from the types of which they gradually progress into purely Hindu models. . . . Coinage is certainly one of the improvements which has travelled and is still travelling eastward’.30 The rate of addition to the information on the Indian coins was quite slow. One reason for this was the difficulty in deciphering the legends; another was that the primary focus of the then numismatic studies was on the Roman and Indo-Sasanian coins. Till 1870s, the colonial scholars believed that the Indians were ignorant of the art of coinage until the time of Alexander. It was Cunningham who in 1870s refuted this idea by citing Quintus Curtius Rufus’ statement that Alexander, on his arrival at Taxila, was presented 80 talents of coined silver (signatiargenti) by the local Raja.31 These coins were later identified and studied as punchmarked coins.

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There were other methods of collecting coins, as known from the writings of other coin collectors, most notably B. Tuffnel32 and Charles J. Rodgers.33 Tuffnel’s keen interest in collecting coins is captured by the following words: There are few more fascinating pursuits to be enjoyed by the “dweller in a foreign land”, such as India, than the collecting of those records of a bygone age, which, in the form of coin or inscriptions, carry us back beyond the reach of history to ancient times, when the kings and dynasties ruled, whose very names are almost unknown today.34 Tuffnel, in fact, projected the interest and fascination of many coin collectors of his age. He suggested that for an interested collector it was not difficult to locate coins. Referring to the presence of coins scattered throughout the country, he states: Every village in India contains coins – gold ones among the jewels of rich, copper ones among the rubbish of the poor – but it takes tact, patience, and practice to lure them from their lurking places. It is no unusual thing to hunt through a village without any sign of a coin, and be assured that there never were any, and yet the next day, armed with a handful of old coppers, as example of what one wants, to ferret out some prizes. To the native mind an old coin is of no more value than a modern one of identical weight and of infinitely less interest, and it is only when the mild Hindu realizes that for one pie that is old, he can get two pies . . . that his store is unearthed.35 There are two noteworthy observations of Tuffnel in the aforecited passage: first, the ‘natives’’ ignorance of the value of old coins, or in other words, their over-familiarity with the presence of old coins in their midst; and second, the ease with which a determined and astute collector could collect those old coins. Rodgers, a coin collector contemporaneous with Tuffnel, too, betrays his fascination with coins in his account – a fascination that, like Tuffnel’s, had to do with the association of coins with history: In the East, history has never in many countries been written. Coins and inscriptions are the only histories . . . if the histories were written, they were often garbled. Whether the histories were written or not, it is always interesting to handle money which we know must have been in use in olden times. . . . We then find that in India especially coins and inscription make history and do not simply illustrate it. They certainly help us to a large amount of geography.36 Rodgers suggested that one could have found old coins in the possession of local junk dealers and money changers, and at antique shops. He often

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found the types and kinds of coins surprising. He cultivated the hobby of collecting coins when he found some interesting coins heaped at the money changers’ shops in a local bazaar of Delhi.37 Thereafter, his pursuit of different coins took him to other markets in Delhi, then to different towns, and subsequently to different regions. A part of Rodger’s collection was sold to the Punjab museum by him. What is interesting here is that the collection he made was hand-picked. He stated that what coins one had to choose had to be predefined. The collections made by individuals were determined by their preferences. It was generally the collections of private owners that were bought by the museums, in which case either (a) the information about the provenance of the coins bought was often missing; (b) the coins may not be representative of the complete series or varieties; or (c) the assessment of the volume of a monetary system from the types of samples collected was not possible.

Colonial understanding of tribes in India The construct of tribe as a category in India, according to Susana Devalle, formed part of the self-legitimising ideology of colonialism. The category of tribe operated to catalogue the conquered population and to enable their incorporation into the colonial system.38 She adds that none of the characteristics that define tribes are found in the communities that were described as tribes. According to K. S. Singh, in the pre-colonial period the communities were divided into many categories, such as varna, jati, qaum, kabila, biradari, etc., but in the colonial period the notion of clan replaced all of them.39 The colonial system introduced a binary perception whereby ‘the colonial paradigm neatly divided the world into the world of civilised and world of oppressed, of ruler and the ruled. To the British the colonial world was a tribal world’.40 One of the earliest references to the term ‘tribe’ to be found in the Indian context is in Alexander Dow’s The History of Hindostan (1768), a translation of the history of India written by Ferishtah, a Persian historian of the late 16th and early 17th centuries CE. In his introduction, Dow referred to the division of Indian society into four great tribes, which were further divided into castes: the Brahmanas; the Sittris or Kshatriyas; the Bises or Vaisyas; and the Sudders or Shudras. He equated the term varna with tribe.41 It may be helpful to look at how this term was understood and applied to modern communities under the British rule. One such use of the term ‘tribe’ in the colonial period was to demarcate certain communities, and marginalised groups could often be categorised as ‘tribal’. Use of the category of tribe as tool of subordination is clearly visible in the Criminal Tribes Act of 1871. Through this Act certain groups were branded as innately criminal and elaborate arrangements were made for their surveillance. The Act entailed the registration of all members of such notified ‘tribes’ and the imposition of restrictions on their movement. It is interesting that all the provisions of

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the Act extended only to the territories under the governments of the NorthWestern Provinces and Panjab and Oudh. However, no definition of tribe was provided by the Act; rather, ‘stress was laid on ethnographical theories of caste which linked profession, upbringing and background’.42 M. A. Sherring’s Hindu Tribes and Caste was the first general compilation of ethnographic data on caste, which became a prelude for the census that was to come.43 In his study, he tried to identify various ‘tribes’ as sub-groups of varnas. Indeed, his work slotted each segment of the entire population into one or the other tribe. The four parts of his book covers, ‘the Brahmanical tribes’, ‘the Kshatriya or Rajpoot tribes’, ‘the mixed castes and tribes: Vaisyas, Sudras and others’, and ‘aborignal tribes and inferior castes’. It, thus, appears that he construed the castes and jatis within every varna as different tribes. The colonial understanding of Indian communities as tribes was also to have its reflection in the traditional categories from past. For instance, the terms jana and gana were translated as tribe in the Sanskrit-English Dictionary, published by Monier Williams in 1872. In 1888, John F. Fleet, in his reading of the Samudragupta’s Allahabad inscription, added the term ‘tribe’, while mentioning the epigraphic reference to the Yaudheyas, Malavas, Arjunayanas and others who were conquered by Samudragupta.44 It was only in the census reports of 1901 and 1911 that an attempt to define tribe in the context of Indian society was made by the government.45 In the 1909 edition of the Imperial Gazetteer of India, tribe was defined in the following manner: A tribe, as we find in India, is a collection of families, or groups of families, bearing a common name which, as a rule, does not denote a specific occupation; generally claiming common descent from a mythical or historical ancestor and occasionally from an animal, but in some parts of the country held together rather by the obligation of blood-feud than by the tradition of kinship; usually speaking the same language; and occupying or claiming to occupy a definite tract of country. A tribe is not necessarily endogamous, i.e. it is not an invariable rule that a man of a particular tribe must marry a woman of the tribe.46 It is interesting to note that the term has been so broadly defined in the aforecited passage that it almost describes any community, even of the medieval and modern periods. It is also important to examine whether the term ‘tribal’ was used by the colonial scholars to contrast the indigenous coin issues with those of the empires, especially when almost all communities were looking to identify themselves with and trace their ancestry to a grand personage. The ‘search for empire’ drive even among the historians of the post-colonial period had its roots in the colonial method of history writing. The tendency to identify Maurya and Gupta states as empires, on the basis of evidence from texts like Mricchakatika and Puranas, inscriptions and

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coins, and to overemphasise their significance in history has almost reduced the period between the two into one of hiatus. Whatever cultural or economic phenomena could be recognised as important in the period between the two empires was attributed to ‘foreign’ influence, i.e., the influence of the Kushanas and Indo-Greeks.

Phase of cataloguing and categorising Though Cunningham never used the term ‘tribal coin’ in his surveys or coin catalogues, one finds that the term was commonly used in other catalogues. It was first used by V. A. Smith, who considered tribes as ‘kingless’ people who held their ground in various regions from as early as 4th century BCE.47 The communities whose coins were identified as tribal coins are: Arjunayanas, Audumbaras, Kunindas, Malava, Nagas, Rajanyas, Yaudheyas, Sibis and Trigartas. After the publication of Smith’s catalogue, other museums also invited scholars to categorise and organise their collections. Scholars who catalogued the earliest coins were H. N. Wright,48 E. J. Rapson,49 R. B. Whitehead,50 and B. B. Bidyabinod.51 The first critique of the study of indigenous coins was by D. R. Bhandarkar, who insisted that traditional sources also be considered in the study of such coins.52 He further challenged Smith’s categorisation: he resented the use of the term ‘tribal’ and introduced the use of the term ‘janapada coins’ for the first time. To him, janapada was a wider and more valid term for the political scenario of early north India. In 1936, John Allan catalogued the collection at the British Museum, London. He adopted the method of classification that had been introduced by Smith. Unlike Cunningham, who discussed coins on the basis of their locality and geographical distribution, Smith and Allan followed the method of categorising coins on the basis of their legends. It became, therefore, difficult for the later scholars to ascribe regions to coins or coin-issuing groups, the reason being that the provenance of coins was probably not even known to Smith and Allan, as they were only studying the coin collections already present in the museums. They were studying coins that were there in the cabinets of the Indian Museum, Calcutta, and the British Museum. The category of tribal coins, was further expanded by Allan to include all indigenously struck and inscribed coins. While the tribal coins in the Smith’s catalogue had their geographical distribution limited to the Indo-Gangetic divide, the category of such coins in the Allan’s catalogue covered coins from the entire north India, including those bearing the names of the rulers as well. It seems that for those cataloguing the early historical coins in the cabinets of various museums, there was no other option but to accept the geographical provenance of the coins ascribed by Cunningham. As expressed by Allan, ‘Cunningham’s attributions are almost everywhere followed even when his reasons for them are not on record. His long experience as a collector in India and his unrivalled knowledge of coins and their provenance make

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it very difficult to differ from him’.53 Indeed, Cunningham’s studies in the numismatic history of early India have been so influential that there are few critiques of his meticulously culled information even by the present-day scholars. The reason for this overwhelming dependence on Cunningham’s studies is that unlike many collectors, he collected coins on-site.

Post-independence numismatic studies: the categorisation debate It is important to understand the nature of the political economy of the communities categorised as tribal, and ascertain how valid the nomenclature ‘tribal’ applied to them is and whether alternate terms that seem appropriate to the early Indian context may be applied. As mentioned in the previous section, Bhandarkar was the first to question the categorisation of such coins as tribal. While there were many later scholars who questioned the use of the term ‘tribal’, there were also those who considered it appropriate and continued to use it. Some of the major arguments over its usage are discussed in the following paragraphs. D. C. Sircar found the term ‘semi independent’ more appropriate for these coins than ‘tribal’, though, in his later writing, he preferred to use the term ‘post-Mauryan’ because the legends were in post-Ashokan Brahmi.54 K. D. Bajpai appears to have shared Bhandarkar’s preference for the term janapada to an extent: in calling them janapada-type of coins, Bajpai pointed out that in the later Vedic texts, the term janapada signifies a community or people of a particular geographical and cultural unit.55 Thus, the term janapada has the capability to define the peculiar nature of these communities without compromising the meaning. The academic debate over the validity of nomenclature shifted to a common platform in 1968 and, then, in 1977.56 Nisar Ahmed contested the use of the term janapada.57 According to him, janapada never had a monarchical connotation and preferred to use the terms ‘tribal’ and ‘local’ for republican and monarchical states, respectively. He also widened the scope of the ‘local’ coins by adding the city issues or naigama coins to them. In 1977, Jai Prakash Singh explained the possible connotation of the term ‘tribal’: he pointed out that the criterion for the inclusion of coins under the label of ‘tribal’ did not depend on the geographical or ethnic affiliations of the issuing groups/communities. The distinguishing mark, according to him, is that the tribe wielded political power and its name is associated with coins. He further stated that there is a possibility of internal changes in the political structure of the tribe, but what is important is that the power continued to be exercised in the name of the community. He also explained why the term janapada would be inappropriate: janapada, as he put, signifies ‘an inhabited country’.58 Krishna Mohan Shrimali, in his study of the Panchala coins, preferred the term janapada for those coins bearing the names of the kings.59 He pointed

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out that, since the area of their circulation extended beyond the geographical confines of the Panchalas, the term ‘local’ is inappropriate. Also, these coins appear to have been issued by individual kings and, thus, the term ‘tribal’ for them is not applicable. He considered ‘janapada’ an appropriate term, as in the early Indian texts it was used for both monarchical and nonmonarchical powers and implied territory as well as people. Also, in the traditional writings, janapada is a component, along with other elements, of a state or political organisation. According to him, the term ‘janapada coins’, while appropriate for the coins issued by the Panchalas, Mitras and Audumbaras, could also include those coins that bear the legend janasya, janapadasa, etc., i.e., of jana or janapada, viz., Arjunayanas, Sibis, etc. Therefore, the type of coins that bear the legend janapadasa, along with the name of the janapada, denote the affiliation of the issuers to a heterogeneous political organisation or clan-based or even of a mixed type unit. As it is in the nature of the coins to be mobile, one can also note that these groups that issued these coins were also on the move. In the case of the Panchala janapada, there may have been an expansion or eastward shift, as is indicated by the distribution of Panchala coins. Western Uttar Pradesh has yielded Panchala coins that can be dated from c. 3rd century BCE onwards, but the janapada’s territory seems to have expanded to the eastern region of Bihar and Bengal only post 1st century CE. The movement was not only of the coins, but was also of the people, as there are differences in the legends and the scripts used. Many scholars like Parmanand Gupta are of a similar view about the Sibis,60 who may have been a janapada in the sense of a ‘collective sovereignty’ which comprised various ganas, and were on move. However, this issue in itself develops scope for raising various academic questions and undertaking more probings, as one needs to look at the purpose of coinage, as well as examine the functions of coins beyond their role as mediums of exchange and including the political, cultural and religious aspects of coin-striking. Parmanand Gupta pointed out, on the basis of epigraphic evidence, that the Malavas, Yaudheyas, Vrishnis, etc., can be described as ganas. He further suggested that while they had a republican form of government in the 2nd and 1st centuries BCE, they seem to have continued to use the term gana for themselves even when the nature of their polity may have changed. He agreed, to an extent, that janapada was sort of a ‘collective sovereignty’ that ‘constituted political bodies’, which may have comprised various ganas. Though he did not reject that the janapada may have depicted the collective constitution, he pointed out that they may have had a loose arrangement and organisation.61 Devendra Handa’s work is one of the most comprehensive and recent studies of these types of coins. He considers the English term ‘tribe’ not very accurate, but because of its proximity, in meaning, to jana and because of its wide currency and popularity he uses it to connote the community. Further, referring to the closeness of samgha and gana to the republican structure of polity, he accepts the use of the term ‘tribal’ for these coins.62

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Suchandra Ghosh questions the use of the term ‘tribal’ for the ganasamgha tradition.63 She suggests that they were more advanced than tribes, as they possessed a governing system, issued coins on a large scale, issued inscriptions, and used seals and sealings. Therefore, she argues that the ganasamgha does not fit the definition of a tribe and does not agree to the use of the term ‘tribal’ for these communities.64 The significance of identifying these coins as janapada coins and not tribal coins is in disassociating the coin-issuing groups from the characteristics of a tribe, since tribes ‘have no formally constituted institutions of governance or administration’.65 Further, the geographic attribution of the coins suggests that the coin-issuing groups represented not only a society with an urban base but also a complex political body with certain administrative functions, most visibly that of issuing coins, which were considered valid medium of transactions within a territory. The association of these coins with the janapadas signifies their association not only with communities (people) but also with the geographical regions inhabited by those communities. Such territorialisation of the coin-issuing communities brings in the need to look at the geographical distribution of coins in their political and economic contexts, and to determine how safe it is to compartmentalise the coin-issuing groups in terms of their own specific geographic – monetary spaces.

Geo-political space and distribution of coins The understanding of the Indo-Gangetic doab as a political and economic space in the study of early Indian history has evolved through time from its conceptualisation primarily as a frontier area with external impetuses as the major force in shaping politico-economic situations,66 to a region with local cultural aspects and forces that shaped the economic and political aspects of the historical processes therein.67 The consideration of regional aspects allow for a better and more nuanced understanding of regional impetuses and of the changing meanings of terms that denote socio-political and economic institutions and systems through time and across different regions. This region’s political, economic and ritual systems are currently understood to be an alternative to those of the Ganga Valley. There is more or less a consensus among historians that the political structure in the Indo-Gangetic divide was non-monarchical. While the geographical positioning of this region has been considered the main reason for the rise of such formations, Thapar points to the need to understand the local cultural processes. In the context of the Punjab region, the cultural processes were driven by the region’s economy. Thapar suggests that the region remained more dependent on trade than on agriculture, as evinced by the absence of land-grant inscriptions from the region in the post-Gupta period. If agriculture was of primary importance, there would have been records of either bringing wasteland under cultivation or of granting cultivated areas.68 George Erdosy also perceives the gana-samgha as an alternate form of political organisation, principally documented in the Buddhist sources and

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not much in the Brahmanical ones because the decision-making procedure in the gana-samghas duplicated that of the Buddhist monastic order (samgha): instead of a hereditary ruler, leaders were elected for a limited term by the heads of families of the ruling lineage.69 He suggests that both the north-eastern and western regions of South Asia, where the gana-samghas were concentrated, were looked down upon by the custodians of orthodox Vedic-Brahmanical tradition of madhyadesha (literally, ‘the middle-country’, i.e., Ganga valley), who may thus have deliberately omitted the surviving oligarchic institutions from their traditions. He suggests that these oligarchies may be viewed as either antecedents of or alternatives to monarchies, even when these survived alongside the latter for over a millennium. The differences between the two forms, however, were limited to the political sphere. Like the monarchies, the oligarchies had a full complement of social classes, issued their own coins and supported significant urban centres. B. D. Chattopadhyaya, too, perceives the janapada as a politically autonomous space. Critiquing the ‘simplistic centralization-decentralization dichotomy’ approach to political history, he argues for the need to understand the existence of ‘autonomous political spaces’, which were political spaces of authority and political operations within the structure of a state.70 He also suggests that to consider that the janapadas or ayudhajivis71 stagnated and did not go under any perceptible change would not be correct. He explains the process of change in these janapadas by way of making two arguments. First, he shows that the early historical settlements in Punjab tended to show a growing hierarchical pattern: while their total number may be around 250, the urban centres among them would be only about a dozen. This, according to him, shows the process of convergence of resources at a limited number of centres and of emergence of nodes. Second, he points out that the gana-samghas initially had warfare as their major and traditional means of subsistence, but later became part of a vast commercial network which characterised the economy of north India in general, under the rule of IndoGreeks, Scytho-Parthians and Kushanas. He further suggests that with the changing economic relations, the political organisation of the gana-samghas also underwent changes. These gana-samghas were no longer political organisations to be found in the Ganga basin alone, i.e., the mahajanapadas that emerged as monarchies, but were very peculiar to the Punjab plains, some pockets of Rajasthan and the Himalayas extending till Garhwal. He contends that though the Indo-Gangetic divide was part of an extensive network of linkages that spanned from Gandhara in the north-west to the Ganga basin in the east, it still was a zone that remained distinct from both.72 While the non-monarchical janapadas and gana-samghas of the IndoGangetic divide are considered by some scholars as exceptions to the Brahmanical notion of state, i.e., the monarchical state, Chattopadhyaya’s argument may suggest that the conceptualisation of autonomous and semiautonomous political spaces was well embedded within the Brahmanical

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political theories, particularly in the concept of dharma, interpretable as rule or law. Pointing to the possible difference between the political approaches of the Ashokan dhamma and the Brahmanical dharma, Chattopadhyaya foregrounds the possible effect of these two in terms of state structure. While he sees the Ashokan dhamma as unifying and homogenous, the Brahmanical dharma, according to him, could best stand for accommodation which denotes multiplicity. Brahmanical dharma correlated with various segments of society and was variously constituted, for instance, by the concepts of gramadharma, shrenidharma, kuladharma, nigamadharma, etc. The Brahmanical dharma in the context of state, according to Chattopadhyaya, provides a scope for the accommodation of a multiplicity of political spaces and authorities. Indeed, ‘the king or the apex authority was enjoined to take cognizance of and maintain these dharmas’, by the Brahmanical texts.73 Further, the nature and constitution of the apex political body did not remain similar under the rule of different dynasties, i.e., the Mauryas, Kushanas, Guptas and other early medieval kingdoms; therefore, it would be incorrect ‘to suppose that the relationship between the changing structures of the limbs of state would have remained static in history’.74 The possible autonomy of the gana-samghas of the Indo-Gangetic divide is also pointed out by Bhairabi Prasad Sahu, who, however, considers their autonomy as the result of their non-acceptance of the Brahmanical political institutions.75 He suggests that the dominance of the gana-samgha political system in the Punjab plains did not provide space for the Brahmanical political institutions to flourish. Brahmanical ideology, to him, acquired a subcontinental identity largely through the spread of ‘Vedic-Shastric-Puranic’ ideas. The non-adherence of the gana-samghas to the Brahmanical political thought allowed them to survive as a socio-cultural organisation in the Punjab plains from the Mauryan times through the Kushana period and beyond, though with weak property rights in land.76 The use of the term, ‘janapada coins’, thus, refers to the coin-issuing character of the janapadas or gana-samghas. Such categorisation developed and emerged when scholars brought to consideration varied processes at work in the Indo-Gangetic divide where the janapadas or gana-samghas thrived, such as the economic condition of the region in terms of flourishing trade; political autonomy of the region with divided centres of political activity instead of a centralised monarchy; and the autonomy of the region’s religious tradition that was different from the Brahmanical tradition. All the arguments allow one to understand the context in which intensive monetisation may have emerged. However, the question that still remains is whether the autonomy of these groups can be safely interpreted as the autonomy of the monetary system, or in other words, if, as janapadas, the coin-issuing groups had monopoly over coin-issuance in their domains. In this chapter, an attempt has been made to plot the geographical profile of the region by plotting the find-spots of janapada/tribal coins. While being limited to tracing the geographical spread of the various types of janapada coins,

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the exercise does not overlook the fact that the region (Indo-Gangetic divide), as well as the time period (2nd century BCE–4th century CE), also witnessed the circulation of Indo-Greek and Kushana coins. This overlap in the area and the period of circulation of the janapada coins and the coins of Indo-Greeks, Kushanas and other monarchical states gives scope for more elaborate study for future. Map 8.1 shows the sites that have yielded at least more than one type of inscribed coins that have been identified to date. Even at sites, such as Pathankot, Gurdaspur, Jaunpur, Akbarpur, and Bareily, where only one type of janapada coins has been found, the Kushana or Indo-Greek coins are also

72˚ Kab 34˚ u l

74˚

76˚

78˚

In

du

80˚

82˚ Metres

s

Above 2000

Taxila

34˚

500 – 2000 200 – 500

Jhelum e Ch

32˚

na

Less than 200

b

Pathankot Jwalamukhi

Gurdaspur Ra 30˚

lej

Sunet

Su

Sanghol

100

200

32˚

Kilometres

Hoshiarpur

vi

Sut

0

tle

j

Tehri

Ambala Ganganagar

30˚

Khara Kheri

Gan

Delhi

na

Audumbara

C

Agra

Kuninda Malavas

Rairh(Newai)

Mitras of Mathura

Ch

Vemaki Yaudheya

na

s Sibi

28˚

Ahichchhatra

am

b

Sankisa

C

Ayodhya

Akbarpur

al

Jaunpur

26˚

tw

a

Ba

Chittor

Kaushambi

Be

Panchala

Bareilly

Mathura

Kuluta

Naigama

ga

Arjunayana

Hastinapur Meerut

u Ya m

LEGEND

Khokhrakot Jhajjar

Almora

So n

Mandasor

24˚

C Coins with

City Names

Tropic of Cancer

76˚

78˚

80˚

82˚

Map 8.1 Sites with More Than Two Types of Identifiable Inscribed Coin Finds (2nd Century BCE–4th Century CE) Source: Prepared by the author.

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present in considerable numbers. The presence of a variety of coins from a particular region shows that the possibility of parallel use of coins issued under different communities and authorities may not be denied. Taxila, considered as one of the most important centres of trade in early India, is marked, in the archaeological record, by the discovery of a large number of coins of different types that have been described in detail by John Marshall.77 Among the large number of inscribed coins found were a number of Greek, Scytho-Parthian and Kushana coins, as also local (naigama) coins and tribal/janapada coins of the Kunindas and Kulutas.78 Another prominent site is Mathura that has yielded, apart from the local Mitra coins, city coins of Ujjain (carrying the Ujjaini symbol), Panchala coins and a single Yaudheya coin – all kept at the Mathura Museum.79 Besides these two, there is a large number of sites that have yielded coins through surface digging or explorations. For example, from Ganganagar, coins of the Arjunayanas and Yaudheyas, along with some unidentified coins, have been found.80 From Hoshiyarpur, coins of Taxila and some janapadas, viz., the Kulutas (Kangra), Rajanyas and Audumbaras, have been found. These sites have also yielded Indo-Greek and Kushana coins.81 Such a clustered distribution pattern suggests a common circulation area for the coins of different janapada/gana-samgha/tribes, and thereby questions the idea of an exclusive sphere of circulation for one coin-type and the long-established notion of coin-issuance as the sovereign right of the state. This pattern also raises the possibility of circulation of various inter-linked coinages within a single a monetary system, or even the possibility of various monetary systems at work in this region.

Conclusion Coins constitute a distinctive source for the study of history, as they, like inscriptions, have aspects of an artefact and a text. However, when removed from its context a coin can be interpreted variously. It may be noted that the use of texts for the study of the Indian past and the use of artefacts, including coins, had been quite different in the colonial India. In the case of the former, the Western scholars could not work without the assistance of the ‘native’ intelligentsia (Brahmin pundits and Muslim ulema). However, in the case of the interpretation of objects like coins and inscriptions, these scholars did not feel the need for assistance from Indians, since the knowledge of ancient Indian scripts like Brahmi and Kharoshti had been long lost; or even if they did, there was no use in taking such assistance. As a result, the Indian scholars got involved in the study of coins quite late. The large number of IndoRoman and Indo-Scythian coins captured all the attention of the Western scholars in the colonial period because of their aesthetic appeal and the curiosity to reconstruct the chronology of early Indian political entities through these coins. However, to some post-colonial scholars, the neglect of indigenous coins by colonial scholars seem deliberate. As Dilip K. Chakrabarti

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states, ‘[W]estern Indology is an essential by-product of the process of the establishment of Western dominance in India’.82 Their methods of reconstructing India’s ancient past were motivated by the underlying feeling of Western superiority. While the ‘othering’ of ‘natives’ has been a common point of critique of colonial studies, Darryl Wilkinson has added the idea of ‘othering’ of things.83 He argues that when objects, i.e., artefacts are studied, they are primarily used as a medium for the ‘othering’ of people associated with them. One has to not only identify the content of the statements and studies made about an artefact, but also the technique and method that were thought appropriate for the production of knowledge about it. One has to, therefore, be cautious in using the terminology and categories adopted by the colonial scholars for the study of artefacts, as those had their own purposes. The cataloguing and categorisation of coins are very important stages of numismatic study, but what needs to be emphasised here is that the process of study has been restricted to these stages. In the Indian context, the study of coins primarily remains dominated by a sort of dialogue between the colonial and post-colonial scholarship and among the post-colonial scholars intended to establish more appropriate and befitting nomenclature and categories for the coins. This is reflected in the two issues discussed in this chapter so far: the categorisation of coins in the colonial period, and the study by various post-colonial scholars of how valid or invalid this categorisation is. There arises, then, a possibility of strict compartmentalisation of the coins whereby the interrelationship among different types of coins or their role in the larger monetary system gets ignored. By larger monetary system what is implied here is the sphere of transactions constituted by the linkages between indigenous and non-indigenous coinages and the monetary systems which they were a part of. It is noticeable that the texts contemporary with these coin-issuing communities do not distinguish between the coins on the basis of the issuing authority, nor do we come across any reference to the monetary systems of the Mauryas, the Kushanas, or any other dynasty. The references to money in the texts often include the mentions of denominations and weights, which may have been the method of identifying the coins in early India.84 The emblem of the issuing authority served to vouch for the originality of the coins but possibly not help in their identification. For instance, in the Gautama Dharmasutra, we come across terms like masha of sisa (lead) to be paid as fine85 and instances of fines in krishnala for different offences.86 In the Arthashastra, the mode of payment and money-transfer are pana, mashaka and kakini, which are distinguished on the basis of their weight and metal used.87 Shailendra Bhandare also distinguishes the coin-types mentioned in the Arthashastra on the basis of their four denominations, and calls the system ‘quadri-denominational’.88 There appears to have been an easy acceptance and use of different types of coins in the pre-colonial India, until the early 19th century. The coins were identified on the basis of their weights and

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hardly on the basis of their issuing authorities. The only attempt that was made to establish a standardised or uniform coinage was by the British. One does not find the categorisation of coins in the texts on the basis of the issuer but that of the metal content. Nor does one find any reference to terms for denoting the coins as ‘imperial’, ‘regional’ or ‘tribal’. The large number of copper coins that are identified as the janapada or the ‘tribal’ coins by modern scholars may have been in circulation even beyond the respective territories of their immediate issuing authorities, on the basis of the metal content and the value ascribed to them, without much hassle, and along with the Kushana coins. The last inference can be corroborated by the finds of coins of different janapadas along with those of the Kushanas, thereby indicating a frequent overlap in their areas of circulation. It is important to question whether the territorial boundaries of monetary systems were as clearly demarcated in early India as we understand them today, especially when the coins of different issuing authorities have been found either in close proximity or, often, together.89 There is a need, thus, not only to relook at the categorisation of coins but also to study coins in larger monetary spaces and not just territorial spaces.

Notes 1 Upendra Thakur, ‘Further Observations of Mint in Ancient India’, Indian Numismatic Chronicle, 1962, 3(1): 68. 2 Ibid., p. 73. 3 Thomas R. Trautmann, Aryans and British India, New Delhi: Yoda Press, 2004. 4 Ibid., p. 216. 5 Himanshu Prabha Ray, ‘Creating Religious Identities, Buddhist Monuments in Colonial and Post-Colonial India’, Transforming Cultures eJournal, 2008, 3(2): 147. 6 Alexander Cunningham, Coins of Ancient India: From the Earliest Times Down to the Seventh Century A.D., London: Quaritch, 1891. Also, see M. K. Sharan, Tribal Coins: A Study, Bodh Gaya: Abhinav Publications, 1972; Devendra Handa, Tribal Coins of Ancient India, New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2007. 7 Most commonly found moulds are of the Yaudheya Class 2 with the legend yaudheya bahudhanyake and Class 6 with the legend yaudheya-ganasya jayah (J. Allan, Catalogue of the Coins of Ancient India, London: British Museum, 1936). 8 B. S. Cohn, Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996. 9 Ibid., p. 5. 10 James Prinsep, ‘On the Edicts of Piyadasi, or Asoka, the Buddhist Monarch of India, Preserved on the Girnar Rock in the Gujerat Peninsula and on the Dhauli Rock in Cuttack: With the Discovery of Ptolemy’s Name Therein’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1838, 7(1): 227. 11 Cohn, Colonialism, p. 5. 12 Ibid. 13 Rosane Rocher, ‘British Orientalism in the Eighteenth Century’, in Carol A. Breckenridge and Peter van der Veer (eds.), Orientalism and the Postcolonial Predicament: Perspective on South Asia, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1994, pp. 220–1.

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14 Bijay Kisor Acharyya, Codification in British India, Calcutta: S. K. Banerji, 1914, p. 153; Rocher, ‘British Orientalism in the Eighteenth Century’, p. 220. 15 Trautmann, Aryans and British India. 16 These were the words of William Jones that became credo of the Asiatic Society. This was quoted on the cover page of the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal. 17 James Prinsep, Essays on Indian Antiquities, Historic, Numismatic, and Palaeographic, of the Late James Prinsep, to Which Are Added His Useful Tables, Illustrative of Indian History, Chronology, Modern Coinages, Weights, Measures, etc., ed. Edward Thomas, London: John Murray, 1858, p. ix. Also, see R. L. Mitra, ‘History of Society’, in Centenary Review of the Asiatic Society of Bengal from 1784 to 1884, Calcutta: Thacker, Spink and Co., 1885, p. 29. 18 Ibid., p. ix. 19 Alexander Cunningham, Four Reports Made during the Years 1862–63–64–65, Archaeological Survey of India Reports, vol. 1, Simla: Government Central Press, 1871, p. xix. 20 Alexander Cunningham, The Ancient Geography of India, London: Trubner and Co., 1871, p. 104. 21 Alexander Cunningham, ‘Correction of a Mistake Regarding Some of the Roman Coins Found in the Tope Opened by M. Court’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1834, 3: 635–7. 22 Alexander Cunningham, ‘Proposed Archaeological Investigation’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1848, 17: 535–6. 23 Ibid. 24 Alexander Cunningham, ‘List of Coins for Sale or Exchange’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1860, 29: 397–9. 25 Alexander Cunningham, Report of a Tour in the Punjab in 1878–79, Archaeological Survey of India Reports, vol. 14, Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1882, p. 116. 26 Ibid., pp. 129, 130. 27 Ibid., p. 140. 28 Ibid., p. 146. 29 Cunningham, Coins of Ancient India. 30 Prinsep, Essays on Indian Antiquities, p. 5. 31 Cunningham, Coins of Ancient India, p. v. 32 B. Tuffnel, Hints for Coin Collectors: Coins of South India, New York: Scott Stamp and Coin Company, 1890. 33 Charles J. Rodgers, Coin Collecting in Northern India, New Delhi: Asian Educational Services, 1997 [1894]. 34 Tuffnel, Hints for Coin Collectors, p. 3. 35 Ibid., pp. 4–5. 36 Rodgers, Coin Collecting in Northern India, p. 6. 37 Rodger’s description of a bazaar that would interest a coin collector is that they were specific areas in towns or large villages near old sites. However, the only specific region he mentioned is Delhi (ibid., pp. 1, 12, 13). 38 Susana B. C. Devalle, Discourses of Ethnicity: Culture and Protest in Jharkhand, New Delhi: Sage Publications, 1992, p. 50. 39 K. S. Singh, ‘Tribe into Caste: A Colonial Paradigm?’, in Dev Nathan (ed.), From Tribe to Caste, Shimla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study (IIAS), 1997, p. 33. 40 Ibid., p. 34. 41 See Nicholas B. Dirks, Castes of Mind: Colonialism and the Making of Modern India, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2012, pp. 20, 21. 42 John Marriott and Bhaskar Mukhopadhyaya, ‘“Criminal Tribes” Act, 1871: Act XXVII’, in John Marriott and Bhaskar Mukhopadhyaya (eds.), Britain in

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56

57

58

59 60 61 62 63

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India, 1765–1905, Vol. 1: Justice, Police, Law and Orders, London: Pickering & Chatto Publishers, 2006, p. 227. M. A. Sherring, Hindu Tribes and Castes as Represented in Benaras, London: Trubner and Co., 1872. John F. Fleet (ed. and trans.), Corpus Inscriptionum Indicarum, Vol. 3: Inscriptions of the Early Gupta Kings and Their Successors, Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1888, p. 12. Singh, ‘Tribe into Caste’, pp. 35–6. William Stevenson Meyer, Richard Burn, James Sutherland Cotton and Herbert Hope Risley, The Imperial Gazetteer of India, Vol. 1: The Indian Empire, Descriptive, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1909, p. 308. V. A. Smith, Catalogue of the Coins in the Indian Museum, Calcutta, vol. 1, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906. The tribal coins are discussed in part 2. H. N. Wright, Catalogue of the Coins in the Indian Museum, Calcutta, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907. E. J. Rapson, Catalogue of the Coins of the Andhra Dynasty, the Western Kṣatrapas, the Traikūṭaka Dynasty, and the “Bodhi” Dynasty, London: British Museum, 1908. R. B. Whitehead, Catalogue of Coins in the Panjab Museum, Lahore, Vol. 1: Indo-Greek Coins, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1914. B. B. Bidyabinod, Supplementary Catalogue of the Coins in Indian Museum of Calcutta: Non Muhammadan Series, vol. 1, Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1923. D. R. Bhandarkar, Lectures on Ancient Indian Numismatics, Carmichael Lectures, Calcutta: Department of Ancient Indian History and Culture, University of Calcutta, 1972 [1921]. Allan, Catalogue of the Coins of Ancient India, p. lxxix. D. C. Sircar, Studies in Indian Coins, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1968, pp. 139–44, 204–13. K. D. Bajpai, ‘The Janapada Coins: Their Terminology, Classification and Chronology’, in A. K. Narain (ed.), Seminar Papers on the Local Coins of Northern India, c. 300 B.C. to 300 A.D., Varanasi: Department of Ancient History, Culture and Archaeology, Banaras Hindu University, 1968, pp. 1–5. Narain (ed.), Seminar Papers; Jai Prakash Singh and Nisar Ahmad (eds.), Seminar Papers on the Tribal Coins of Ancient India, c. 200 B.C. to 400 A.D., Varanasi: Department of Ancient History, Culture and Archaeology, Banaras Hindu University, 1977. Nisar Ahmad, ‘Basis of Classification Terminology and Some Problems’, in K. Narain (ed.), Seminar Papers on the Local Coins of Northern India, c. 300 B.C. to 300 A.D., Varanasi: Department of Ancient History, Culture and Archaeology, Banaras Hindu University, 1968, p. 17. Jai Prakash Singh, ‘Introduction’, in Jai Prakash Singh and Nisar Ahmad (eds.), Seminar Papers on the Tribal Coins of Ancient India, c. 200 B.C. to 400 A.D., Varanasi: Department of Ancient History, Culture and Archaeology, Banaras Hindu University, 1977, pp. 1–2. Krishna Mohan Shrimali, History of the Pañcāla’, vol. 2, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1985, pp. 3–4. Parmananda Gupta, Geography from Ancient Indian Coins and Seals, New Delhi: Concept Publishing, 1989. Ibid., p. 7. Handa, Tribal Coins of Ancient India. Suchandra Ghosh, ‘Migration of the Gana-Samghas of Punjab (2nd century BCE-3rd Century CE): The Underlying Factors’, Journal of the Asiatic Society, 2012, 54(1): 45–54.

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64 Ibid., p. 45. Ghosh adheres to Ratnagar’s definition of tribe: ‘[A] tribe is not just a group of people that shares a common culture, a name, an ethnic identity and a language/dialect: more importantly, its members believe they are one people because they trace their origins to a common ancestor . . . tribal societies by and large have not developed economic systems that require writing. They have no formally constituted institutions of governance or administration’ (Shereen Ratnagar, ‘Who Are the Tribals?’, One India One People, November 2000, pp. 6–7). 65 Ratnagar, ‘Who Are the Tribals?’, pp. 6–7. 66 Buddha Prakash, Political and Social Movements in Ancient Punjab, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1964; Evolution of Heroic Tradition in Ancient Punjab, Patiala: Punjabi University, 1971. 67 Romila Thapar, ‘The Scope and Significance of Regional History’, in Romila Thapar, Ancient Indian Social History: Some Interpretations, New Delhi: Orient Longman, 1985 [1976], pp. 317–31; B. D. Chattopadhyaya, ‘“Autonomous Spaces” and the Authority of the State: The Contradiction and Its Resolution in Theory and Practice in Early India’, in B. D. Chattopadhyaya, Studying Early India: Archaeology, Texts, and Historical Issues, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2003 [1997], pp. 135–52. 68 Thapar, ‘The Scope and Significance of Regional History’, pp. 322–4. 69 George Erdosy, ‘City States of North India and Pakistan at the Time of Buddha’, in F. R. Allchin (ed.), The Archaeology of Early Historic South Asia: The Emergence of Cities and States, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995, pp. 99–122. 70 Chattopadhyaya, ‘“Autonomous Spaces” and the Authority’, p. 144. 71 The ayudhajivis, literally those who practiced warfare for living, lived in the north-western region. Their earliest mention is in Panini’s Ashtadhyayi (see V. S. Agrawala, India as Known to Panini, Lucknow: University of Lucknow, 1953, p. 475). These groups inhabited the Indo-Gangetic divide and Punjab plains and probably took up trade as an important economic activity. 72 B. D. Chattopadhyaya, ‘Geographical Perspectives, Cultural Change and Linkages: Some Reflections on Early Punjab’, in B. D. Chattopadhyaya, Studying Early India: Archaeology, Texts, and Historical Issues, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2003 [1997], pp. 59–61. 73 Chattopadhyaya, ‘“Autonomous Spaces” and the Authority’, pp. 142, 143. 74 Ibid., pp. 147–8. 75 Bhairabi Prasad Sahu, ‘Brahmanical Ideology, Regional Identities and the Construction of Early India’, Social Scientist, 2001, 29(7/8): 3–18. 76 Ibid., pp. 10–11. 77 John Marshall, Taxila: An Illustrated Account of Archaeological Excavations, vol. 2, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1951. 78 Ibid., pp. 750–842. 79 Aruna Sharma, History of Mathura, c. 200 BC–300 AD, New Delhi: Om Publications, 2006, pp. 189, 191. 80 Indian Archaeology, 1971–72: A Review, ed. M. N. Deshpande, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1975, p. 70; Indian Archaeology, 1975–76: A Review, ed. B. K. Thapar, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1979, p. 73. 81 Indian Archaeology, 1969–70: A Review, ed. B. B. Lal, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1973, p. 31. 82 Dilip K. Chakrabarti, Colonial Indology: Sociopolitics of the Ancient Indian Past, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1997, p. 1. 83 Darryl Wilkinson, ‘The Apartheid of Antiquity’, World Archaeology, 2011, 43(1): 26–39. 84 Edward Thomas (Ancient Indian Weights, London: Trubner and Co., 1874) carried out a study of the traditional weight standards referred to in various

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Dharmashastras. Cunningham (Coins of Ancient India), too, discussed the traditional weight standards of Indian coins. Also, see P. L. Gupta, ‘Numismatic Data in the Arthashastra of Kautilya’, Journal of Numismatic Society of India, 1960, 22: 13–37; Shailendra Bhandare, ‘From Kautilya to Kosambi and Beyond: The Quest for a “Mauryan/Aśokan” Coinage’, in Patrick Olivelle, Janice Leoshko and Himanshu Prabha Ray (eds.), Reimagining Aśoka: Memory and History, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2012, pp. 101–6. Gautama Dharmasutra 22.23, in Patrick Olivelle (trans.), Dharmasutras: The Law Codes of Āpastamba, Gautama, Baudhāyana and Vasiṣṭha, New York: Oxford University Press, 1999, p. 116. Gautama Dharmasutra 12.8–16, in Olivelle (trans.), Dharmasutras, p. 98. R. P. Kangle (trans.), The Kauṭilīya Arthaśāstra, Part 2, Bombay: Bombay University, 1965, p. 181. Bhandare, ‘From Kautilya to Kosambi’, p. 104. There are many sites in the Indo-Gangetic doab, from where coins of different types have been excavated. For instance, the coins of the Kunindas, Yaudheyas and Mathura kings dated between 1st and 3rd centuries CE were found at Kurukshetra (Indian Archaeology, 1970–71: A Review, ed. M. N. Deshpande, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1974, pp. 15, 16; Indian Archaeology, 1971–72, pp. 23, 24; Indian Archaeology, 1972–73: A Review, ed. M. N. Deshpande, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1978, pp. 12–13); from the excavation of Purana Qila, the coins of the Mitras of Mathura and of the Kushanas were found in the stratum belonging to Period II (Indian Archaeology, 1955–56: A Review, ed. A. Ghosh, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1956, p. 14); from Hastinapur, the coins of the Mitras and Yaudheyas, along with the imitations of the coins of the Kushana king Vasudeva, dating from the period between 2nd century BCE and 2nd century CE were found (B. B. Lal, ‘Excavations at Hastinapur and Other Explorations in Upper Ganga and Sutlej Basins, 1950–52’, Ancient India, 1954 and 1955, 10 and 12: 5–151); and from Ganganagar district, the coins of the Yaudheyas (Indian Archaeology, 1971–72, p. 70) and Arjununayans (Indian Archaeology, 1975–76, p. 73) were found.

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Mitra, R. L., ‘History of Society’, in Centenary Review of the Asiatic Society of Bengal from 1784 to 1884, Calcutta: Thacker, Spink and Co., 1885, pp. 1–81. Monier-Williams, Sir Monier, A Sanskrit-English Dictionary, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1872. Narain, A. K. (ed.), Seminar Papers on the Local Coins of Northern India, c. 300 B.C. to 300 A.D., Varanasi: Department of Ancient History, Culture and Archaeology, Banaras Hindu University, 1968. Olivelle, Patrick (trans.), Dharmasūtras: The Law Codes of Āpastamba, Gautama, Baudhāyana and Vasiṣṭha, New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. ———, King Governance, and Law in Ancient India: Kauṭilīya Arthaśāstra, New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Prakash, Buddha, Political and Social Movements in Ancient Punjab, Motilal Banarsidass, 1964. ———, Evolution of Heroic Tradition in Ancient Punjab, Patiala: Punjabi University, 1971. Prinsep, James, ‘On the Edicts of Piyadasi, or Asoka, the Buddhist Monarch of India, Preserved on the Girnar Rock in the Gujerat Peninsula and on the Dhauli Rock in Cuttack: With the Discovery of Ptolemy’s Name Therein’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1838, 7(1): 219–82. ———, Essays on Indian Antiquities, Historic, Numismatic, and Palaeographic, of the Late James Prinsep, to Which Are Added His Useful Tables, Illustrative of Indian History, Chronology, Modern Coinages, Weights, Measures, etc., ed. Edward Thomas, London: John Murray, 1858. Rapson, E. J., Catalogue of the Coins of the Andhra Dynasty, the Western Kṣatrapas, the Traikūṭaka Dynasty, and the “Bodhi” Dynasty, London: British Museum, 1908. Ratnagar, Shereen, ‘Who Are the Tribals?’, One India One People, November 2000, pp. 6–7. Ray, Himanshu Prabha, ‘Creating Religious Identities, Buddhist Monuments in Colonial and Post-Colonial India’, Transforming Cultures eJournal, 2008, 3(2): 145–67. Raychaudhuri, Hemchandra, Political History of Ancient India: From the Accession of Parikshit to the Extinction of the Gupta Dynasty, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1923. Rhys Davids, T. W., Buddhist India, New Delhi: Bhartiya Kala Prakashan, 2007 [1903]. Rocher, Rosane, ‘British Orientalism in the Eighteenth Century’, in Carol A. Breckenridge and Peter van der Veer (eds.), Orientalism and the Postcolonial Predicament: Perspective on South Asia, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1994, pp. 215–49. Rodgers, Charles J., Coin Collecting in Northern India, New Delhi: Asian Educational Services, 1894. Sahu, Bhairabi Prasad, ‘Brahmanical Ideology, Regional Identities and the Construction of Early India’, Social Scientist, 2001, 29(7/8): 3–18. Sharan, M. K., Tribal Coins: A Study, Bodh Gaya: Abhinav Publications, 1972. Sharma, Aruna, History of Mathura, c. 200 BC-AD 300, New Delhi: Om Publications, 2006. Sherring, M. A., Hindu Tribes and Castes as Represented in Benaras, London: Trubner and Co., 1872.

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Shrimali, Krishna Mohan, History of the Pañcāla, 2 vols, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd.,1985. Singh, Jai Prakash, ‘Introduction’, in Jai Prakash Singh and Nisar Ahmad (eds.), Seminar Papers on the Tribal Coins of Ancient India, c. 200 B.C. to 400 A.D., Varanasi: Department of Ancient History, Culture and Archaeology, Banaras Hindu University, 1977, pp. 1–17. Singh, Jai Prakash and Nisar Ahmad (eds.), Seminar Papers on the Tribal Coins of Ancient India, c. 200 B.C. to 400 A.D., Varanasi: Department of Ancient History, Culture and Archaeology, Banaras Hindu University, 1977. Singh, K. S., ‘Tribe into Caste: A Colonial Paradigm?’, in Dev Nathan (ed.), From Tribe to Caste, Shimla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study (IIAS), 1997, pp. 31–44. Sircar, D. C., Studies in Indian Coins, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1968. Smith, V. A., Catalogue of the Coins in the Indian Museum, Calcutta, vol. 1, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906. Thakur, Upendra, ‘Further Observations of Mint in Ancient India’, Indian Numismatic Chronicle, 1962, 3(1): 68–99. Thapar, Romila, From Lineage to State, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1984. ———, ‘The Scope and Significance of Regional History’, in Romila Thapar, Ancient Indian Social History: Some Interpretations, New Delhi: Orient Longman, 1985 [1976], pp. 317–31. Thomas, Edward, Ancient Indian Weights, London: Trubner and Co., 1874. Trautmann, Thomas R., Aryans and British India, New Delhi: Yoda Press, 2004. Tuffnel, B., Hints for Coin Collectors: Coins of South India, New York: Scott Stamp and Coin Company, 1890. Wagle, Narendra, Society at the Time of the Buddha, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1995 [1966]. Whitehead, R. B., Catalogue of Coins in the Panjab Museum, Lahore, Vol. 1: IndoGreek Coins, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1914. Wilkinson, Darryl, ‘The Apartheid of Antiquity’, World Archaeology, 2011, 43(1): 26–39. Wright, H. N., Catalogue of the Coins in the Indian Museum, Calcutta, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907.

9

Shrines as ‘monuments’ Issues of classification, custody and conflict in Orissa Umakanta Mishra*

From T N Ramachandran, Superintendent, Archaeological Survey, Eastern Circle To Additional District Magistrate, Puri I have inspected the image in question in company with the subdivisional officer, Khurda today on 4.3.1950. The Barabhuji image which is found in one of the Jaina caves is actually the Jaina sasanadevata, Chakresvari who is the Yakshini of the first Tirthankara. The effigy of the Tirthankara is actually found on the top of the stone. I wonder how anyone can worship the image as different goddess altogether. This goddess is not an Hindu [sic].1 (emphasis mine) Important religious shrines of India represented to the colonial administrators of the 19th century a conveniently ruined Indian past which could be recovered, repaired and protected. The process of recovery and protection of the ancient past stands as a living testament to, on the one hand, the ‘contribution’ the colonial government had made in ‘protecting India’s past’, and on the other, the decadence to which the ancient religions of India had fallen due to either desecration or internal degeneration. In 1848, Alexander Cunningham offered a scheme of archaeological investigations to the Government of India, arguing that such recovery and protection of India’s past would be an undertaking of vast importance to the Indian government politically, and to the British public religiously. This colonial enterprise was institutionalised when the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) was created in 1861, and Major General Alexander Cunningham was appointed its first Director General (DG). In the view of the colonial state, the enterprise could not be left to individual initiatives and Asiatic Societies alone. It was, in fact, considered the supreme duty of the Imperial Government to systematise the process of recovery and protection of the Indian past. In 1870, George

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Campbell, Secretary of State for India and the eighth Duke of Argyll, while appreciating the early archaeological endeavours in India, recommended that the responsibility for the supervision of such endeavours be concentrated in one department of the imperial government and not be left, without the imperial control, to different chiefs under different local governments.2 The Viceroy, Lord Mayo, echoed this need for imperial control of this enterprise when he said: The duty of the government is of a widely different and much larger and important kind. I believe that the duty of investigating, describing and protecting the ancient monuments of a country is one that is recognised and acted on by every civilised nation in the world. India has done less in this direction than almost any other nation and considering the vast materials for the illustration of history which lie unexplored in every part of Hindoostan, I am strongly of opinion that immediate steps should be taken for the creation under the Government of India of a machinery for discharging a duty, at once so obvious and so interesting. . . . I think the time is come when a great and enlightened Government can no longer neglect contributing to the archaeological literature of the world.3 This enterprise was taken to new heights when Curzon became the Viceroy and enacted the Ancient Monuments Preservation Act (AMPA) or Act VII in 1904. The conservation and protection of monuments became a supreme obligation which could not be left to the provincial governments. The main objectives of the AMPA were to ensure the proper upkeep and repair of ancient buildings in private ownership, excepting those used for religious purposes; to prevent the excavation of sites of historic interests by ‘ignorant’ and ‘unauthorised’ persons; and to secure control over traffic in antiquities and to acquire ownership, where necessary and possible, of monuments and objects of archaeological and historical interest.4 The Act invested the executive, for the first time, with sufficient authority with regard to monuments in private ownership and was destined to make a new era in the preservation of archaeological remains in the country. The enactment of the AMPA dramatically extended the sphere of the bureaucratic state as the conserver and protector of these sacred centres and converted living shrines into ‘monuments’. This giant leap in the colonial control over shrines was, however, fraught with problems. Not always could a neat division be made between monument and places of worship. Many monuments, such as the Lingaraja temple, the Jagannatha temple of Puri, and the Khandagiri and Udayagiri caves, were under active worship, but they are ‘exceptionally’ significant from architectural point of view, and hence needed to be ‘protected’. While conservation of such religious shrines was accommodated in sections 3 and 4 of the AMPA, which allowed religious observances, a neat boundary between the realm

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of religious activities and the clauses of protection could never be drawn. It led to a continuous friction between communities worshipping at these shrines and the ASI, especially over application of ghee, dedication of a lamp, sacrifice of animals, holding of special festivals in the protected complex, etc. Another flashpoint was the entry of ‘non-believers’ into temples for overseeing conservation works and entering mosques with shoes on. The extended bureaucratic claim of a department of the colonial state over the ‘religious centres’ saw the state taking a particularistic and narrow stand on the religious affiliation of the shrines. The ASI’s classification of ‘discovered’ and ‘protected sites’ failed to take into account the different meanings attached to such sacred sites by religious groups. The ASI classified a site on the basis of its physical antiquity, and such narrow approach very often saw the ASI taking a partisan view of the very nature of a sacred centre, which had acted as a ‘multivalent centre’ in the past. A multivalent centre, as Mircea Eliade says, had the capacity to express different meanings for different religious groups.5 This monopolisation of sacred sites by the ASI led to misperceptions of the Indian past. One central argument of the colonial narrative pertained to the way religions and religious shrines and complexes were looked at. Right from the days of the Orientalists, religions of India were seen in terms of oppositional and exclusive categories. Indian history was seen in terms of the rise and fall of religions of ancient past: the rise of a protestant Buddhism as a reaction against the Vedic rituals, the Brahmanical insurrection against the Buddhist Mauryas by Pushyamitra, the expansion of Buddhism under the Kushanas, the rise of Brahmanical religion under the Guptas, and the decline of Buddhism due to ‘corruption’ and ‘imitation’ of the Brahmanical religion.6 Thus, colonial historiography posited Indian religions in binary opposition. These binaries constituted the basis of a priori classification of ‘discovered’ and ‘protected’ religious centres. The buried sites were discovered and excavated by the archaeologists and inscriptions were deciphered by James Prinsep and Cunningham, but in this process of discovery and reporting, the colonial historians distorted the nature of these sites. Colonial historians claimed to have discovered them, whereas the evidence suggests that these sites had continued to attract pilgrims throughout the historical period. Further, the colonial historians began to classify these sites in exclusivist terms. Bodh Gaya was considered a Buddhist site, which was occupied by Hindu mahants when Buddhism declined in 12th century CE.7 Similarly, Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex, even though it had attracted pilgrims of other denominations throughout history, was considered to have been discovered by Kittoe and afterward classified as a prominent Jaina site. However, such classification failed to take notice of the very nature of many sacred complexes, which continued to be revered for different reasons. Different religious groups worshipped the same deity under different names. The Jainas considered the Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex sacred. So did the

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other religious group, the Hindus, for different reasons. To take another instance, the Svayambhu Purana was a Buddhist text, but the Hindus also considered it to be their own.8 The deity Matsyendranatha of Nepal is a form of Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, but the Hindus also claim the deity as a form of Krishna.9 The colonial classification distorted the nature of religious centre as habitus of ‘plurality of religious beliefs and practices in ancient and medieval south Asia’.10 Taking into account two episodes in the history of ‘conservation’ and ‘preservation’ of ‘protected monuments’ – one over the Barabhuji cave and Padukamath temple in the ‘Jaina’ Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex, and the other over the Lingaraja temple, both in Bhubaneswar – the chapter critiques the colonial state’s role in classification, conservation and preservation of shrines as ‘protected monuments’; the distortions such classification made in the nature of religious centres with multilayered history and meaning; and the conflict it caused among religious groups on the one hand and between local communities and the ASI on the other. Further, the chapter explores the issue of ownership as defined in the AMPA and earlier legislations. Varied interpretations of the meaning and scope of ‘ownership’ in different colonial legislations resulted in conflicts between local temple committees and the ASI. The issue came to head when the Lingaraja temple was excluded from the List of Protected Monuments in 1913. The third issue the chapter deals with is how the conservation ethics and aesthetics, as had been formulated by John Marshall in 1923, conflicted with the traditional notion of jirnoddharana (restoration) and religious behaviour of the devotees.

Episode 1: Padukamath episode in the ‘Jaina’ Khandagiri– Udayagiri complex The twin hills, Khandagiri and Udayagiri, in Bhubaneswar are described by the ASI as one of the earliest ‘Jaina’ shelters.11 The complex was ‘discovered’ first by Andrew Stirling12 and then by Lieutenant M. Kittoe.13 Later, James Fergusson wrote on the religion, architecture, the Hathigumpha inscription and other inscriptions in the complex. Fergusson went beyond this ‘discovery’ and started classifying the religious complex. The early historians were not clear about the religious affiliation of the complex and some considered Udayagiri to be a Buddhist site.14 The caves of Udayagiri, according to Fergusson, ‘are entirely Buddhist and of a very early and pure type; those on the other hill, the Khandagiri are much later and principally Jaina’.15 Further, the Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex was drawn into the whirlpool of colonialist versus nationalist arguments over the ‘authenticity’ of Indian monuments. While Fergusson believed that the pillar and boots of the rockcut figures in the Udayagiri hill reveal distinct foreign influence, nationalist historian Rajendra Lal Mitra stressed on the ‘authenticity’ of the architecture and sculpture of Orissa.16

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Conservation/preservation and custody of monuments under AMPA Exercising its exclusive rights over the protection of monuments, the ASI took necessary steps for the preservation and protection of monuments and began to claim that it was the sole custodian of the protected monuments. The conservation work at Udayagiri–Khandagiri complex started in 1898 and continued for about half a century. The Public Works Department of Cuttack division started repairing and conserving the monuments. The work included clearance of sand debris, conservation of broken pillars and collapsed façades, and restoration of missing architectural components. Such conservation of monuments generated great controversy, as John Marshall, after becoming Director General of the ASI in 1902, was furious with the methods of ‘restoration’ of old temples of Bhubaneswar.17 The AMPA was enacted in 1904, and the Government of Bihar and Orissa, notified Khandagiri and Udayagiri to be protected under Notification no. 1865 E, 25 June 1912.18 On 12 July 1915, the Lieutenant-Governor-inCouncil of the Government of Bihar and Orissa notified that the Commissioner of Orissa was the sole guardian of these protected monuments.19 The transformation of religious establishments and complexes into ‘monuments’ and the transfer of their custody to the government provoked protest from other important stakeholders. When the Public Works Department (PWD) started removing pillars, clearing sand debris and excavating at Udayagiri, both Jainas and Hindus objected to such actions by the state.20 This issue of the custody of the monuments and the manner of their protection continued, and in 1947 the ASI demanded the ‘portion of land adjoining the sites of ancient monuments as may be required for fencing or covering in or otherwise preserving monuments and the means of access to and convenient inspection of ancient monuments’.21 When the revenue officials and tahsildar of Khurda pointed out that the additional land could not be given, as they were not specified in the notification of 1912 when the Udayagiri– Khandagiri complex was declared ‘protected’ under the AMPA, the ASI insisted on the acquisition of more land by the government.22 This demand by the ASI officials, which historians called ‘militant conservatism’, was followed by another face-off between the ASI and local stakeholders. A ‘Hindu’ math (monastery) called Padukamath, managed by a private trust, was located to the north-west of a Jaina dharmashala (rest-house for pilgrims) on the Udayagiri hill. In May 1948, the Hindu babaji of the math started constructing a pucca building on the existing thatched structure of the math. The Hindus believed that the ASI was biased towards the Jainas and was engaged in obliterating every ‘vestige of Hinduism from this sacred complex’. There were several developments at the Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex, which will be alluded to later to support the view that the ASI was not impartial. The Hindus contended that the Jaina dharmashala and other Jaina establishments near the Padukamath temple were allowed to operate and the ASI made no objection to such establishments hindering the view of

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the Hathigumpha complex. The ASI’s objection to the construction of pucca Padukamath smacked of partisanship. The tahsildar of Khurda submitted an enquiry report on the issue, wherein he rejected the ASI’s contention that the ongoing construction of pucca Padukamath would in any way hinder the view of the ancient monument of Udayagiri from the roadside.23 Further, the tahsildar also did not consider the proposal of acquisition of land under the trust of Padukamath, as suggested by the Superintendent of ASI, Central Circle, Patna, as viable because any move for such acquisition would result in huge protest from the Hindus. The district administration also agreed with the findings of the tahsildar that the ongoing pucca structural work of Padukamath would in no way hinder the view of the Udayagiri monument, and the Collector proposed a joint enquiry of the Padukamath area if the ASI continued to have a different view on the issue. The ASI continued to insist that Padukamath was hindrance to the protection of this ancient monument which was under their exclusive custody. T. N. Ramachandran, Superintendent of ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, justified his objection to the building of the pucca structure.24 The Sub Divisional Officer (SDO) of Khurda also concurred with this point of view and was anxious to solve the problem even by acceding to land acquisition, which, he said, was not easy as the math was a place of worship. He however, promised to meet the owner of the math.

Barabhuji controversy The controversy over Padukamath occurred in the backdrop of another controversy over ‘appropriate’ religious behaviour in Barabhuji cave of the Khandagiri complex. Cave 8 of the complex was known as Barabhuji gumpha (12-armed gumpha), so called from two 12-armed figures carved in rock on the side walls of the verandah. Inhabitants of the nearby villages of Jagaamara, Aiginia, Dumuduma, Baramunda, and Nayapalli (which today are in the heart of Bhubaneswar city) worshipped the images as grama devatas/devis (village gods/goddesses) under the name of Sri (sic) Barabhuji Thakurani, and the priests of the villages offered bhog (ritual food-offering) to them. The villagers petitioned to the Collector of Puri in October 1945 that some years ago the ASI had issued orders for taking the deities under its protection and attempted to stop their worship. Upon hearing their petition, the then Collector of Puri Dewan Bahadur Dayanidhi Das had ordered that the puja of the deities not be interrupted.25 However, Mortimer Wheeler, the DG of ASI, endorsed the decision of B. N. Puri, the Superintending Archaeologist of the ASI’s Central Circle, Patna, of not allowing worship by the locals.26 This simmering controversy between the ASI and the local community backed by district officials took an interesting turn from 1949 and reached a flaring point in 1951. The Bengal, Bihar and Orissa Digambar Jaina Tirtha Kshetra Committee had been urging for a ban on the slaughter of animals by

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the Hindus in the precinct of the Barabhuji cave. T. Ramachandran, Superintendent of ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, informed the Secretary of the Committee in a letter that the district administration had already put up a signboard banning slaughter of fowl and animals within the jurisdiction of the Khandagiri complex.27 This ban on animal slaughter took place after Ramachandran conducted an enquiry about the nature of Barabhuji cave. In a classic case of ‘arbitrary classification’, Ramachandran, in no uncertain terms, proclaimed that the image was of Shasana-devi (protective deity) Chakreshvari of the first Tirthankara Rishabhadeva, and wondered how it could be worshipped as a Hindu goddess. He raised another objection: as the spokesperson of the ‘custodian of the monument’, i.e., the ASI, he contended that the Barabhuji image cannot be worshipped by the Hindus, as it was damaged. He wrote to the ADM of Puri: ‘No image whose nose and hands are broken can be worshipped. The present case has three right hands broken in addition to its nose. Will you kindly put an end to the present tendency towards false worship?’28 The ASI was adamant about imposing its own view of protection, often in a partisan manner. On the one hand, it imposed a ban on the offering of bhog by the local residents in the Barabhuji cave, and restrained the construction of pucca structure in ‘the only Hindu religious structure in the sacred Udayagiri hill’ (as the Hindus of Padukamath said). On the other hand, it allowed the construction and installation of images in the ‘protected’ Khandagiri complex. On a request by the Jaina temple management committee to allow the installation of a temporary light post on the occasion of the installation of a new image in the Khandagiri temple complex in 1950 (temple and the adjoining areas were managed by the committee), the Superintendent of ASI, Eastern Circle, wrote to A. K. Moitra, Conservation Assistant (CA), Bhubaneswar, that there should not be any objection from the ASI.29 Shortly after this incident, an important event occurred in 1950–51, which brought to fore the nature of the ‘protected’ religious shrines. A ‘Hindu’ organisation, comprising the heads of many Hindu monasteries of Orissa, many of whom were from untouchable and lower castes, started distributing handbills and literature exhorting the faithful to congregate on the Khandagiri hill to participate in a 45-day religious festival starting from the Baishakh purnima (full moon). The hand-bills and literature30 invoked the malikas31 (oracles of prophecies) of Acyutananda Das, Ananta Das and Arakshita Das and exhorted devotees to congregate at a 45-day religious festival at Khandagiri to gain merit. Acyutananda Das and other medieval Bhakti poets referred to Khandagiri as the place from where Lord Ananta would start destroying the sinful at the end of the Kaliyuga. Only the faithful who would congregate on the Khandagiri hill would be saved from the coming apocalypse. The handbills further said that flood and droughts (famine of 1943 and 1948 which occurred in the backdrop) and other natural calamities would soon befall on Orissa, and called upon the people not to miss this opportunity to gain religious merit or else calamity would surely

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follow. The handbills claimed that Sri Barabhuji (Chakreshvari) was a form of Durga (the Mother Goddess) and the male deity under the canopy of a seven-hooded serpent, prominently carved on the back wall of the cave, was Ananta (the organisers, in fact, identified Tirthankara Parshvanatha with Ananta, a form of Vishnu). The organisers, therefore, believed that the Kali yuga was about to end and Lord Ananta from Barabhuji cave would emerge to destroy the sinful. This, again, foregrounds the multivalent nature of shrines and reinforces the fact that classifying the Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex as one of the ‘oldest Jaina monuments’, as the ASI did, resulted in a distortion of its multireligious character and generated conflicts between the ASI and the local Hindu communities on the one hand and between Jains and Hindus on the other. Before the history of the sacred complex of Khandagiri–Udayagiri is dealt with in the following section, it is important to highlight what happened to the call for the 45-day festival in this ‘ASI protected monument’. In April 1951, an umbrella organisation of sadhus and Hindu maths, mostly of lower castes, printed a handbill titled ‘Sarbajanina (public) Ananta mela in front of the Barabhuji image of the Khandagiri cave 8, known as Barabhuji cave’. The handbill printed on the occasion of the mela (fair), exhorted the devotees to congregate in order to witness the self-emanation of Lord Ananta.32 They claimed that the murtis (idols) of Barabhuji and Ananta were glories of the Kesari dynasty, mentioned in the Madala Panji (temple chronicle of the Jagannatha temple, Puri) and the malikas of Acyutananda Das and Ananta Das. They forwarded the programme to the Chief Minister and printed handbills in Oriya and Bengali. They even advertised the festival in local dailies like Samaj. In April, they applied to the District Magistrate and police officer, Khasmahal officer, of Khurda for permission and forwarded the copies of the handbills to the Chief Minister. However, they bemoaned the fact that despite these proclamations of their intentions to hold the mela, none of these officers informed them about AMPA and the restrictions it put on any construction near it. The organisers wanted to put a temporary shed in front of the cave verandah as well as construct a yajna kunda (sacrificial pit). The ASI objected to this and the local administration restrained it just before the commencement of the mela on 16 May 1951. The CA reported that sadhus from all over Orissa had assembled at the complex and started taking shelter in the caves as they had been doing throughout centuries. In 1909, John Marshall had considered yogis to be the principal violators of the AMPA provisions, and opined that along with mosses, lichens, bats and the peepal tree, the presence of yogis in the caves and temples of Orissa were threats to the protection of monuments and must be ‘excluded from occupying the monument’.33 A. K. Moitra, in a letter to Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, reported that the sadhus and yogis who had taken shelter in the Navamuni and Barabhuji caves, on being asked by the tahsildar to vacate them, went down to the foot of the hill.34 Reacting to such restrictions

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placed the ASI, the head of the umbrella organisation of the mela wrote to Moitra, asserting that the monument having 12 hands in the shape of a Devi is called Barabhuji Durga and the monument having seven snake heads over, is called Ananta Murti in the Hindu Mythology. . . . No matter archaeological department named them other ways, but we deserve our truth in the name mentioned above, and declared in the history of Orissa and named by the people of the locality.35 On the permission of the tahsildar, the organisers started constructing sheds on the foot of the hill and held the mela. Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex as a multivalent sacred complex The exclusion of the yogis and sadhus from the caves of Khandagiri and Udayagiri, ban on the worship of Barabhuji by locals and on animal sacrifices in deference to Jaina sentiments, and restraint on the construction of a pucca structure of Padukamath, raise the issue of the multivalent nature of the religious centre and how the ASI’s conservation norms and classification of religious shrines as ‘Jaina/Hindu/Buddhist’ were in conflict with local perceptions and local history of the shrine. Khandagiri–Udayagiri has been a living sacred centre for the Jainas since the early historical period. In fact, taking into account various kinds of evidence from different historical periods, it can be called one of the oldest living religious complexes of India. Notwithstanding the claim of its ‘discovery’ by the British historians, the complex has continued as a religious centre throughout history. The Hathigumpha inscription (lines 14–16) of king Kharavela refers to the excavation of caves for Jaina ascetics at an enormous cost, on the pragbhara (mountain slope) in the neighbourhood of the monastic retreats of the Kumari hill (Udayagiri), a certain structure with hundreds of stones collected from different quarries and pillars with the core of cat’s eye gem.36 The inscription also refers to Kharavela’s feat of bringing back the Kalinga jina image which had been taken away by the Nanda King (namdaraja nitam) and installed it in Kalinganagari (line 12). Even if Kharavela was a Jaina, he respected all sects and repaired all temples (line 17). In the time of the Mahameghavahana family to which Kharavela belonged to, the Khandagiri and Udayagiri complex were honeycombed with caves, which were excavated by various members of the royal family. A Brahmi inscription in the upper storey of the Manchapuri cave in the Udayagiri hill refers to the construction of a temple of arhats (arhamta pasayadaya) and the excavation of a cave for the Shramanas of Kalinga by the chief queen of the illustrious Kharavela. Similarly, excavation of lenas (caves) for arhats in the Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex was commissioned by Mahameghavahana Kudepasiri, prince Vadhukha, Chulakama, Kamma, and Halakshina, town judge Sabhuti, wife of

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Mahamada, Agikha, and Kusuma.37 On palaeographic ground, it can be said that these caves were excavated in the 1st century BCE. Jainism seemed to have thrived thereafter as well in the complex. At a time when the Lingaraja temple was constructed by the Somavamshis, king Udyotakesari (11th century CE) of the same dynasty also made many renovations in the Khandagiri complex. The Navamuni cave (cave 9) was renovated during this period. Originally, the cave consisted of two residential cells with a common verandah in front. But later on, it was converted into a shrine chamber (sanctuary) by excavating the floor to a greater depth and carving the figures of nine Tirthankaras. In the case, there are five inscriptions, the last of which records the work of Jaina monk Khalla Shubhachandra, disciple of Kulachandra, who was an acarya (teacher) of the Deshi gana, derived from the graham kula belonging to the Arya samgha in the eighth regnal year of Udyotakesari.38 In the back wall of this cell, which was converted into a sanctuary of Navamuni cave, seven Tirthankaras are carved in high relief. Below the figures of the Tirthankaras are carved their Shasana-devis. What is more important to note is that the image of Ganesha is also carved along with those of the Shasana-devis which, thus, resemble the Saptamatrika images of the same period in the Hindu temples. It is also important to highlight that the images of Hindu deities, viz., Ganesha in the Navamuni cave and Abhisekaha Lakshmi in the Udayagiri cave, are found along with the relief figures of Jaina Tirthankaras and Shasana-devis. It was perhaps during this period that along with the Navamuni cave, the Barabhuji cave was converted into shrine chamber as well. The Trishula and Mahavira caves were converted into sanctuaries later, during the rule of Ganga and Gajapati dynasties. The Lalatendukesari cave (cave 11) has an inscription which records the restoration of a well and a dilapidated temple in the fifth regnal year of Udyotakesari, as also the setting up of the images of 24 Tirthankaras there. The find of detached images, coupled with a large number of fragments of architectural components, such as amalaka and khapuris (structural parts of the top of the Orissan temples), of a stone temple attests to the existence of an earlier temple on the crest of the Khandagiri hill, on which now stands a temple constructed in late 18th or early 19th century.39 Thus, the present temple was constructed on an earlier temple, built in 11th century CE. The steady flow of devotees to this temple throughout the history of its existence is ascertained from more than 100 monolithic votive miniature shrines on the terrace near the temple, called the Deva Sabha (‘assembly of gods’) with figures of Tirthankaras in their niches. Stirling mentions that the temple was frequented by the Jaina or Parwar merchants of Cuttack, who assembled at Khandagiri in large numbers, once every year, to hold a festival of their religion.40 Thus, historical evidence attests to continuous Jaina presence from the early historical period to the 15th century and even later, in the 18th–19th century. However, it was also considered to be a sacred centre by the Hindus. The local practice of worshipping Buddhist and Jaina gods and goddesses

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as Hindu deities is found in many parts of Orissa, but it is also important to ascertain the larger textual basis of the Ananta mela in the Khandagiri– Udayagiri complex. The handbills circulated by the organisers of the mela proclaimed the Khandagiri complex as the ‘eternal abode (nitya sthali) of Lord Ananta Gopala (Lord Vishnu), as described in the writings of the Panchasakhas (five Saints) (handbill no. 2). The handbill no. 3, printed in both Oriya and Bengali, refers to the ‘lion seat of Void’ at the secret Ganges of Amaravati of Khandagiri as the place where the bold proclamations of the malikas (prophecies) would be decided (nirghanta). The Panchasakhas very frequently associated Khandagiri with the Kalki avatara (last incarnation of lord Vishnu/Krishna). The Panchasakhas were Bhakti saints of medieval Orissa, considered to be the disciples of Chaitanya, the famous 16th-century Gaudiya Vaishnava saint. The Panchasakhas were Jagannataha Das, Balaram Das, Acyutananda Das, Jasobanta Das, and Ananta Das. Jagannatha Das’ Oriya rendition of Shrimad Bhagavatam has been immensely popular since medieval times. Balaram Das wrote the Ramayana in Oriya. In addition, as mentioned earlier, their malikas or books of prophecies have been quite popular in Orissa. They were written between 16th and 18th centuries CE. Malikas, such as Yugabdha Gita, Kaliyuga Malika, Bhabisyata Parabhda, and Padmakalpa of Acyutananda Das, and Bhabisyata Purana of Ananta Das predicted a cataclysmic turn of events at the end of the Kali yuga. This genre of prophetic-cum-apocalyptic literature is a regional adaptation of the depiction of Kali yuga in the Brahmanical Puranas. All of them speak of decadence in dharma and socio-cultural order, as also the impending apocalypse at the end of the Kali yuga to be brought about by the divine incarnation of Lord Jagannatha. What is important in the context of Khandagiri is that the aforementioned Malikas refer to the complex as the place where the Lord will take his human form and proceed to destroy the world. Only the righteous will be spared, and these righteous will include the saints who would congregate at the holy complex of Khandagiri–Udayagiri. For instance, the Bhabisyata Purana prophesies that Hari (a form of Vishnu) will manifest himself in Kalki form at Khandagiri.41 The Agata Bhabisya Malika foretells that the 12 rishis (‘seers’) of the Brahmanical tradition and 60,000 saints (santhas) will congregate at Khandagiri to witness the manifestation of Kalki.42 These saints will be engaged in the meditation of Lord Ananta in the caves of Khandagiri. The text further alludes to the glory of Khandagiri which even the great gods like Brahma and Shiva cannot describe.43 The Yugabdha Gita, too, prophesies that Lord Janardana will stay at Khandagiri with a turban on his head and from here he will manifest his Kalki form. Devotees will congregate at different places and the sky will look bright.44 Further, as the Terajanmasarana predicts, at the time of the end of this yuga, the five saints or Panchasakhas will teach the king of Utkala (Orissa) the five knowledges on the crest of Khandagiri.45 The Agata Bhabisya Malika further states: ‘The sadhus in their disguised form are residing at Amaravati in the crest of the

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Khandagiri hill where the secret Ganges flows. Prayers continue throughout day and night and the lord will play the secret game (guapata khela) in that secret place’.46 In the Padmakalpatika, it is stated that at the time of apocalypse when cyclone and flood will engulf Orissa, the Lord will protect his devotees and give shelter to them in the Ananta gumpha (Anantagumpha cave of Khandagiri).47 Two important points emerge out of these textual prophecies with regard to Khandagiri. First, Lord Jagannatha, conceived by the Vaishnava saints as the primordial Lord, will manifest himself in his Kalki form in Khandagiri. Second, the caves of the complex are the abode of saints and devotees throughout and even at the time of the manifestation of Kalki incarnation, the devotees and saints who congregated there would be spared from the impending destruction. It is important to note that there is a cave in Udayagiri complex known as Jagannatha Gumpha, evidently named after Lord Jagannatha of Puri, who was declared as the rashtra devata (state deity) of Utkala (Orissa) in the 13th century CE.48 The organisers of the 1951 mela, thus, invoked this long-standing tradition to stake their claim to this sacred place. This long tradition ran in conflict with the ASI’s new conservation norms and classification of the complex exclusively as a Jaina monument.

Episode 2: Lingaraja temple: issues of conservation and custody Soon after the annexation of Orissa in 1803, the colonial government by Regulation XIX of 1810 assumed charge of temples and mosques endowed with property, and made arrangements for the management, maintenance and repair of such shrines. The conservation and ownership of Lingaraja temple and ‘appropriate’ religious behaviour in this ‘protected’ monument brought the ASI in conflict with the Bhubaneswar Temple Committee, which was endowed with the right to manage the temple vide the Religious Endowment Act of 1863. Both the Temple Committee and the ASI questioned each other’s legislative claims and actions. This conflict resulted in the stoppage of funds for the conservation of the temple by the government in 1903, and led to the exclusion of the temple from the list of protected monuments of Bhubaneswar in 1913. Further, the conservation norms, as enunciated by Marshall from 1905 to 1923, sharply questioned the restorations of the Bhubaneswar group of temples made by the PWD under the supervision of the Superintendent of ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta. Marshall’s notes on the conservation of the Bhubaneswar group of temples, criticising the use of new architraves and stone, brought the issue of aesthetics into conservation. These new conservation norms, legitimated by the AMPA, led to differences between Marshall and T. Bloch, the Superintendent of ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta. Further, the issue of custody and control of the monument raised the issue of the nature of the monument, i.e., whether the monument would be a ‘public resort’, as Marshall wanted them, or a shrine accessed by contemporary religious groups.

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The old part of Bhubaneswar has a series of temples, which document the complete evolution of Orissa- or Kalinga-style of temple architecture. This old part of Bhubaneswar, known as Ekamra Kshetra in the medieval texts, developed into a classic Shaiva pilgrimage spot. In the Ekamra Kshetra, Shaiva temples were constructed from 6th century to 13th century CE. The chief deity of the Ekamra Kshetra is Lingaraja. The Lingaraja temple was built in the 11th century CE, and represents the culmination of the evolution of Orissa-style temple architecture. It is described by Fergusson as the ‘finest example of a purely Hindu temple in India’.49 The temples of Bhubaneswar began to decay after one of the generals of Shah Jahan, Baki Khan desecrated and destroyed them in 1640s. When the British came in 1803, they hesitated to involve themselves in the religious affairs of the ‘natives’. But soon this state of affairs changed as the British took control of the Jagannatha temple in Puri in 1817. The crumbling temples of Bhubaneswar provided material evidence for ‘the trajectory of decline which was rectified by the imperial government by discovery, repair and protection. The ‘“discovery” and classification of antique grandeur was both indicative of, and necessitated by, the cultural nadir to which the dependent territory had now sunk’.50 And as part of this colonial policy, the Bhubaneswar group of temples were repaired and protected. The repair work was started by the PWD under the supervision of the ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta. Many temples of Bhubaneswar, including the Lingaraja temple, were subjected to extensive repair, restoration and conservation. In 1900, John Woodburn, Lieutenant Governor of Bengal, granted an annual allowance of 400 to the Lingaraja Temple for its maintenance. The grant was, however, withdrawn three years later, when the temple authorities refused to allow European officers to enter the temple compound to inspect it.51 The issue of ownership and maintenance of the Lingaraja temple simmered in the next two decades. The issue of ownership and access resurfaced in 1911 when both the ASI and the Bhubaneswar Temple Committee accused each other of neglect and destruction of the temple. Priyanath Chaterjee, a lawyer and the Secretary of the Committee,52 wrote to the Collector of Puri, as well as to the ASI, complaining about the demolition of a subsidiary shrine during the repair work in Ananta Vasudeva temple. On the other hand, the ASI took a serious view of the destruction of Padeshvari temple just outside the enclosure of the Lingaraja temple and the use of debris and stones of the Padeshvari temple by the Temple Committee in the repair of Gauri temple within the Lingaraja temple without the knowledge of the government and the ASI.53 The Temple Committee, on its part, lamented and criticised the ASI and the government for not being able to allocate funds, as a result of which many temples, including a subsidiary temple within the precinct of the Ananta Vasudeva temple, had already been ravaged and demolished. Chaterjee complained that the shrine had been mythologically connected to the Ananta Vasudeva temple and its removal had marred the temple’s

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beauty and congruity.54 He asserted that if the government was selective in restoring and repairing some temples to the neglect of others, the Temple Committee may be allowed to do the necessary repair and restoration of the temples.55 The ASI claimed that the destroyed subsidiary shrine within the Ananta Vasudeva temple was in such a condition that it was a ‘menace to those passing in the courtyard’.56 The ASI’s position on the Temple Committee’s claim over the right to ‘selective destruction and restoration’ of temples, as it did exercise in case of the Gauri temple within the Lingaraja temple complex, was that such acts ought to be made legally impossible. D. B. Spooner, Superintendent of ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, asserted that it ought to be made legally impossible for anyone to tamper with the Bhubaneswar temple without the full knowledge and express permission of the ASI. Spooner brought to fore the issue that since the government had already spent a lot of money on the conservation and restoration of Bhubaneswar group of temples without first ‘establishing the rights of the government’, it was therefore, important to settle the ‘issue of ownership and control’ first by declaring such conserved monuments as ‘protected’ under the AMPA. He further highlighted that the Temple Committee’s claim over the right to restoration and conservation was derived from a legal ambiguity which had not clearly established the ownership and custody of the conserved temples. Spooner, invoking Marshall’s 1905 note on the archaeological remains in Bengal and his 1909 notes that raise the issue of ownership and custody, again highlighted the need to take government control of the monuments which had been so far conserved by the PWD.57 Spooner proposed that a list of temples on which the government had already expended money be prepared, and that out of these, those that were to be ownerless be straightway declared as ‘protected monuments’ under the AMPA. He further recommended that steps be taken to protect the government’s rights over these monuments and close them to public use. Thus, in essence, the ASI advocated restrictions on religious activities in the ownerless monuments protected under the AMPA. Those that were under private possession but conserved by the PWD should also be brought under the AMPA, but the government should enter into a legal agreement with the owner of such monuments beforehand, promising neither to sell nor to lease the monument without first notifying the Collector and obtaining his written permission. If these privately owned protected monuments were still under active worship, as was the Lingaraja temple, and the owners refused to sign an agreement allowing the European conservers entry into them, their repair and conservation should no longer be continued by the PWD.58 The ASI and PWD’s allegation that the Bhubaneswar Temple Committee destroyed the Padeshvari temple and used its debris to repair the Gauri temple, and the Committee’s counter-allegation that the ASI and PWD destroyed a subsidiary shrine within the Ananta Vasudeva temple brings back the issue of the custody, ownership and repair of the Lingaraja temple. As mentioned earlier, the annual maintenance grant to the Lingaraja temple

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was discontinued in 1903 over the issue of the Temple Committee not allowing the European officer to enter into the temple. Marshall, in his conservation note (footnote 30) of 1909 clearly recommended that the government not spend money on the conservation of shrines in cases where they were privately owned, or in cases where agreement had not been reached about the permanent right of the Europeans to enter the temples. With the conflict between the ASI and the Temple Committee intensifying in 1911, Spooner recommended that 14 monuments of Bhubaneswar be declared as protected monuments, excluding the Lingaraja temple. The ground for such exclusion was the well-stated policy that shrines that were under active worship, under private possession and not open to the entry of Europeans were to be excluded from the list of protected monuments.59 However, this being the stand, the ASI decided to put the onus of maintenance and repair of the temple on the Temple Committee. However, when inspection showed urgent need for repair,60 the ASI decided to change its policy of non-interference in ‘living’ religious monuments to a proposal that either a grant-in-aid be provided to the Temple Committee for repair and restoration, or the government bear the cost of initial repair and restoration and the Temple Committee guarantee that it would keep the temple in good condition by bearing the cost of future repairs. However, the Temple Committee, while asserting its management rights over the temples of Bhubaneswar, refused to take the responsibility for initial repair/restoration or future repairs. It wanted the government to bear all costs of repair, as also assign the repair work to Hindu officials of the ASI only. It agreed to limit the cost of maintenance (to be borne by it) to 400 annually, and further demanded that ‘the repairs . . . not be restricted to the Lingaraja temple only but be extended to the Parvati temple and the group of 60 minor temples situated in the complex’. Further, it put a rider on its promise to give 400 annually for the maintenance of the temple by stating that it would not bind itself to such financial commitment as long as the ‘amount of the cost of the repairs and the conditions of adequate guarantees which is required of them was not made public’. The government, frustrated with the Committee not making any promise of undertaking repair work in future, thought of replacing its existing members with a new set of more ‘pliable’ members. This issue of repair and ownership got interrupted in 1920 when, under the Reform scheme, introduced to reduce imperial expenditure, the Committee’s financial commitment to the maintenance of the monument under the care of the ASI was greatly curtailed and the protection of all non-notified monuments, including the Lingaraja temple, became the responsibility of provincial governments.61 The issue of Lingaraja temple, the destruction of temples by the PWD and the Temple Committee in the process of repair, and the claims and counterclaims by both the ASI and the Committee raise three important questions, namely: the issue of ‘category’ of monuments to be conserved and declared as protected monuments under the AMPA; the issue of the onus of ‘ownership’

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of these protected monument, under section 3 of the AMPA; and the issue of ‘conservation ethics’ and how it conflicted with the traditional norm of jirnoddharana (restoration) and with the ‘appropriate’ religious behaviour of the devotees. As in the case of Lingaraja temple, where the government withdrew from the repair of the temple in 1903, Marshall’s stated position (as in note no. 89 of 1909) was that the government had no business to repair temples that were still sites of worship. However, if the temple was of great architectural merit, as was the case of Lingaraja temple, the government should have permanent right of entry, otherwise, it should not involve itself in its conservation. Therefore, even if 15 odd temples were repaired, restored and conserved by the PWD between 1898 and 1903, it was important to ascertain the ownership, and those which were still under private ownership should be regulated by clauses 4 and 5 of the AMPA. Further, since they were still places of worship, their conservation should be guided by clause 13 of the Act.62 The report of the tahsildar on the question whether these temples were being used for religious purposes or not, shows that Bhaskareshvara, Megheshvara, Brahmeshvara, Parashurameshvara, Maitreshvara, Sari deul, Chitrakarini deul, and Rajarani temples were not used for religious purposes. However, in Bhaskareshvara, Megheshvara and Brahmeshvara, even though no bhog was offered daily, the sevaks (temple priests) poured waters daily, and in Parsurameshwar and Maitreshvara the same ritual took place. There were no idols in the Rajarani and Chitrakarini temples.63 Ananta Vasudeva, Jameshwar or Yameshvara, Vaitala, Mukteshvara, and Siddheshvara temples were under active worship, and so were the Kedaragauri and the Lingaraja temples. Therefore, many of the repaired temples were actively under worship and even though Marshall did not want the places of worship to be brought under the AMPA, there was no way this could have been followed, as all great specimens of Orissa-style temple architecture were under active worship. However, clause 13 of the AMPA and Marshall’s manual gave overarching powers to the ASI and government officials to intervene in the religious activities by invoking the clause of desecration and pollution. The curated temple was always under the threat of being defiled by colonial subjects who ‘were intent on destroying, altering, misplacing or at the least, misunderstanding the antiquity’. Marshall’s conservation manual gives detailed instructions for dealing with the issue of temples under active worship: it recommends the removal of modern and undesirable accessories, such as sindoor (vermilion), ghee, lamp, pictures, coloured rags, etc., in a manner that did not ‘offend the religious sensibilities of people who have acknowledged interest in the building’.64 There were two concerns of Marshall regarding the continued use of conserved temples as places of worship. First, he was very anxious about religiosity creeping in the conserved temples. For Marshall, once the temples were conserved, they became monuments. Second, he was concerned about the possibility that the resumption

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of religious use of a structure would result in the closure of the structure that had become a public monument on which public money had been spent. To this end, a clause was added in 1922 which required that any funds expended by the government be returned in case of the closure of the public monument. This clause was applicable to those cases where the monument could not be acquired compulsorily by the government.65 However, despite Marshall’s anxiety, divinity and antiquity coexisted together, and the ASI’s claim of custody was shared with the range of claims made by the Temple Committee, temple servitors, endowments and local people. Another anxiety in the minds of the ASI officials was about the growing spurious religiosity at these sites following conservation. The temples of Bhubaneswar and Konark were considered to be at particular risk in Orissa. The navagraha panel, a huge 24-ton lintel, was discovered in the debris of Konark and could not be fitted to the original position, as the deul (main temple) was completely destroyed. Hence, it was placed some distance away from the temple. The ASI built a shed over it to protect it from weathering and soon it began to attract worship by local people. After the Sun temple was notified as a protected monument in 1915, a complaint was received from sevaks who attended to the navagraha stone. The sevaks claimed a continuity of tradition with the use of the principal temple and complained that their access to the stone was impeded by the ASI’s control over the structure which housed the stone. The colonial documents, on the other hand, stated that in 1896 the temple of Konark had been listed as entirely deserted, i.e., not in the custody of anybody.66 The Collector of Puri and other district authorities rejected the sevaks’ claim over the navagraha stone, stating that such a claim is an absurd one: ‘The Navagraha images are no more worshipped than outrageously obscene images on the wall of the temple . . . they are not thakurs but evil spirits and are never worshipped by the Hindus’.67 However, as things turned out, this claim of the state was not heeded. On the contrary, the claim of the sevaks or sevayats that application of ghee would keep the panel in good state of preservation could not be challenged by the state. The only option available to the ASI was the closure of the temple to worshippers; this remained a temporary measure, and the puja was instituted again and the authority could do little to prevent it. Issue of ownership The issue of ownership of sacred shrines developed sharply during the destruction of the Padeshvari temple and use of its stone for the repair of the Parvati temple. In the run up to the inclusion of 14 shrines, except the Lingaraja temple, in the list of protected monuments, the Bhubaneswar Temple Committee objected to the definition of ownership under sections 2 and 3 of the AMPA, and argued that there was no need for such a notification of inclusion. Priyanath Chaterjee, a prominent member of the Committee,

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argued that section 3 of the AMPA imposed on the owners of privately held temples the onus of bearing the cost of repair and maintenance, but the Committee could not bear the cost, as the endowments of 10 villages given to the Committee in 1863 was only for the performance of daily rituals at the Lingaraja temple. However, the Committee took two different views on the issue of ownership. While in the case of the Padeshvari temple, it argued that it had every right to carry out selective destruction and repair, a right that came within the ambit of the Religious Endowment Act of 1863 by which it was created. On the other hand, when the issue of bearing the cost of repair by private owners of temples developed, the Committee held the view that it was merely the custodian and manager of the temple and its power was derived from the sovereign government; therefore, the latter should bear the cost of repair as it had been doing when the temples were under the local Boards and Board of Revenue. On the other hand, the ASI and the government claimed that bearing the cost of repair was the responsibility of the private owner, as per sections 3 and 5 of the AMPA that defined an owner as one who was also the manager of the monument. The ASI, thus, acquired control over the repair work of all privately owned temples, but such control did not entail the financial responsibility of the government. The Committee did not accept the AMPA’s definition of ownership and custody, invoking the provisions of the earlier acts, such as the Bengal Regulation XIX of 1810 and Act XX of 1863, and wanted the government not to invoke any provisions of the AMPA in any agreement with the Committee. More specifically, the Committee laid down three arguments: (a) that it was the representative of the government under the Act XX of 1863; (b) that the responsibility of the preservation of temples managed by it rests with the government by virtue of several provisions of the Bengal Regulation XIX of 1810, and sections 3, 6 and 23 of the Act XX of 1863; and (c) that since the provisions of these legislations had not been repealed by the AMPA, the Committee was still governed by the older acts and the AMPA should not apply to temples that were under the management of the Committee. A report from the tahsildar of Khurda shows that out of the 13 temples of Bhubaneswar that were being considered to be brought under the AMPA, the settlement records show 11 to be under the control of the Temple Committee, the Bhaskareshvara temple to be under the control of the government and the Megheshvara temple to be under the control of Raghu Panda and Bhabani Naik.68 The Sahasralinga tank, according to the ASI and the Committee, did not constitute a monument, and it was subsequently delisted from the list. The records of 1864 at the time of the creation of the Temple Committee in 1864 on the basis of 1863 Act, show that the endowment (debottar) land belonging to the Lingaraja Thakur at Bhubaneswar had been managed by puracha or paricha (superintendent), appointed by the Collector, on behalf of the government, at least from 1823. The puracha submitted the annual account of the Lingaraj temple to the government. By the Regulation XIX of

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1810 the general superintendence of all lands granted for the support of the temples vested with the Board of Commissions and the Board of Revenue. Section 3 of the Regulation provided that the two Boards ensure that the ‘endowments were duly appropriated for their proper purpose’.69 However, the Regulation XVII of 1816 (section 6) took away the task of maintenance and repair from the Boards. And therefore, the position in 1863, when the Endowment Act was enacted, was that the Boards exercised a general superintendence through the Collector but did not interfere with the general management of the temple. Therefore, by the Act XX of 1863, a temple committee was formed for Bhubaneswar (Lingaraja) under section 8 and this committee was under that section vested with the power to perform all duties previously exercised by the Boards and local agents, i.e., the job of the temple is that of superintendence.70 Therefore, while both the government and the Temple Committee took the position that the Committee was merely a superintendent of the temple, the government took the view that it had merely transferred the task of superintendence to the Committee from the Local Body in 1863, thereby rejecting Chaterjee’s position that the Committee represented the sovereign government, but simultaneously advocating that for the purposes of the Act VII of 1904 the ‘owner’ includes ‘a joint owner invested with powers of management on behalf of himself or other joint owners, and any managers or trustee exercising powers of management’, and therefore, the committee was the owner as per the definition of the AMPA and should bear the cost of future repair. Bibhuti Bhusan Mukherji, Government Pleader of Puri, took the position that the Committee took over the superintendence of the temple from the Board and hence, the Committee was appointed once for all by the local government which becomes functus officio thereafter. Citing the judgement of a case in the District Court of Puri in 1909 between Mahant Gadadhar Das and Jagannatha Bullubh Muth Committee, Mukherji argued: [T]he members of the committee have not a bare authority; they can grant leases and create interest in the endowed property consistent with the purpose of endowments and have therefore an interest coupled with that of authority. Their position may be likened to that of guardians of the deity or institution placed in their behalf.71 The government’s position was that neither the government nor the Committee was the owner of the temple. It was the general public who was the real owner of the temple. G. C. Paharaj, the Government Pleader of Puri and one of the three members of the Bhubaneswar Temple Committee, took a different view and located the ownership of the temple in the god Lingaraja.72 The former governments (i.e., Hindu Rajas) built the temples and created the endowments and God Lingaraja is the beneficent owner or ceste que trust of the properties and the government is the trustee, the government has delegated

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this power to the committee to superintendent and appoint a manager (paricha), without any member managing the property. ‘There is no necessity for taking any agreement from the committee as there is no endowment set apart for the repair, and there is no fund at the disposal of the committee which they can spare for the repair’.73 Thus, Praharaj placed the issue of ownership in the larger tradition of Orissa wherein there was a symbiotic relation between the temporal and sacred power, between temple and royalty, and the sovereign government had inherited it from this long tradition. Thus, while the Committee invoked colonial legislations, Praharaj’s argument was built up by bringing together the long tradition and colonial legislations. Praharaj’s contention was accepted by the government, and in November 1913, the Commissioner of Orissa province assumed the guardianship of the 13 temples of Bhubaneswar. The Government of Bihar and Orissa, thus, worked out a solution. It recommended that the Collector assume guardianship of all the temples, and a division of custody be introduced between the Collector and the Temple Committee, whereby the structure of temples would be controlled and repaired by the PWD under the supervision of ASI and the Temple Committee would continue to oversee the worship. But this separation of the custody of deity and the custody of structure was not neat, as it involved a lot of overlap. However, the Government Pleader’s stand had greater significance: the more credible will be one’s claim of ownership, if it is backed up both by law and ‘cultural norm of antiquity’.74

Conclusion The chapter has argued that the colonial project of ‘discovery’, conservation and protection of monuments failed to take into account the complex nature of sacred centres in Orissa. Many of the sacred centres, indeed, conveyed multiple meanings for different religious groups. Being multivalent in nature, they attracted the followers of different religions. As has been delineated, the Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex was as much important to the Jainas as to the Hindus who believed that Lord Jagannatha would take the final form there at the end of the Kali yuga. The ASI’s apparent failure to recognise the multivalent nature of the complex led, very often, to sharpening claims and counterclaims by local groups who believed that the government was favouring one group to the exclusion of the other, and hence, generated conflict. The norms of conservation of the ‘protected’ religious shrines very often brought the ASI in conflict with local communities. The ASI wanted to showcase these monuments as museumised pieces, whereas the local communities asserted their right to worship there. The colonial conservation norms, as established by the ASI under Marshall, included norms of ‘appropriate’ behaviour in these ‘protected’ monuments and these norms of ‘appropriate’ behaviour were in conflict with the religious practices of people.

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The other crucial issue addressed in the chapter is the ownership of temples. The dispute over the ownership of the Lingaraja temple between the ASI and the Bhubaneswar Temple Committee underscores the problematics of the sources of legitimation. Both the Committee and the government sought to justify their actions as by basing their claims on some past legislations, such as the Act of 1810, the Act of 1863 and the AMPA. But when the clauses of these colonial legislations are differently interpreted by both to justify their competing claims, the Government Pleader G. C. Praharaj invoked the cultural norm of ‘antiquity’ to resolve the issue of ownership. Praharaj argued that the former Rajas of Orissa built the temple and created the endowments and therefore, Lord Lingaraja was the beneficent owner of the ceste que trust of the properties and the government was the trustee. Thus, he located the ownership of the temple beyond the colonial legal framework. This merely underlies the power of the cultural norm of ‘antiquity’, which was invoked when the existing laws were not sufficient to establish the claim of ownership by competing parties.

Notes * I am extremely grateful to Professor Himanshu Prabha Ray, Chairperson, National Monuments Authority (NMA), for going through the chapter and suggesting improvements. I am also thankful to Professor Bhairabi Prasad Sahu of the Department of History, University of Delhi, and Professor K. K. Basa of the Department of Anthropology, Utkal University, for their valuable suggestions to improve the chapter. 1 Bundle no. 12, serial no. 239, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), Eastern Circle, Calcutta, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. 2 Upinder Singh, Discovery of Ancient India: Early Archaeologists and the Beginnings of Archaeology, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2004, p. 79. 3 The Viceroy’s Note, 30 July 1870, in E. C. Bayley, Notes in Home/Public, 30 July 1870, nos 204–16, part A, National Archives of India (NIA), New Delhi. 4 For the clauses of the AMPA, see http://asi.nic.in/pdf_data/5.pdf (accessed on 4 September 2014). 5 According to Mircea Eliade, religious or sacred symbols are multivalent. By this, he means a symbol’s ‘capacity to express simultaneously a number of meanings whose continuity is not evident on the plane of immediate experience’ (Images and Symbols: Studies in Religious Symbolism, trans. Philip Mairet, Princeton, NJ: Princeton: University Press, 1991, p. 15). 6 C. K. Wedemeyer, ‘Tropes, Typologies, and Turnarounds: A Brief Genealogy of the Historiography of Tantric Buddhism’, History of Religions, 2001, 40(3): 223–59; Richard King, Orientalism and Religion: Postcolonial Theory, India and ‘the Mystic East’, London: Routledge, 1999. 7 Himanshu Prabha Ray, ‘Archaeology and Empire: Buddhist Monuments in Monsoon Asia’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, 2008, 45(3): 417–49; A. Trevithick, ‘British Archaeologists, Hindu Abbots, and Burmese Buddhists: The Mahabodhi Temple at Bodh Gaya, 1811–1877’, Modern Asian Studies, 1999, 33(3): 635–56. 8 B. McCoy Owens, ‘Monumentality, Identity, and the State: Local Practice, World Heritage, and Heterotopia at Swayambhu, Nepal’, Anthropological Quarterly, 2002, 75(2): 269–313.

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9 David N. Gellner, Monk, Householder, and Tantric Priest: Newar Buddhism and Its Hierarchy of Ritual, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. 10 Himanshu Prabha Ray, ‘The Apsidal Shrine in Early Hinduism: Origins, Cultic Affiliation, Patronage’, World Archaeology, 2004, 36(3): 343–59. 11 Debala Mitra, Udayagiri and Khandagiri, New Delhi: Director General, Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), 1960, p. 30. 12 Andrew Stirling referred to the Jina monument of Khandagiri and modern constructions made by the Jainas on the crest of the Khandagiri hill (‘Account, Geographical, Statistical and Historical, of Orissa Proper, or Cuttack’, Asiatic Researches, 1825, 15: 311–15). 13 M. Kittoe, ‘Ruins and Pillar at Jajipur’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1838, 7: 53–6. 14 K. K. Basa and P. Mohanty, Archaeology of Orissa, New Delhi: Pratibha Prakashan, 2000, p. 26. 15 James Fergusson, Illustration of Rock-Cut Temples of India, London: John Weale, 1845, p. 11. 16 Rajendra Lal Mitra, Antiquities of Orissa, Calcutta: Baptist Mission Press, 1875. The argument between Fergusson and Babu Rajendra Lal Mitra over the issue of foreign influence over or ‘authenticity’ of the Indian architecture made the former write a book in 1884 pouring venom on the latter, relating it with the contemporary issue of the Ilbert bill (1881) controversy, which was enacted to allow the trial of the whites by the native Indian judges. Fergusson wrote: ‘If after reading the following pages any European feels that he would like to be subjected to his jurisdiction in criminal cases, he must have courage possessed by few; or he thinks he could depend on his knowledge or impartiality to do him justice, as he could on one of his countrymen, he must be strongly constituted in mind, Body and estate’ (Archaeology in India with Special Reference to the Works of Babu Rajendra Lal Mitra, New Delhi: K. K. Publications, 1974 [1884], p. vii). 17 Marshall was particularly furious with the use of stones in the process of preservation. Since his first tour of India, including Bhubaneswar, after becoming DG, he, in a series of letters and notes, especially a note of 1905, criticised the use of white-coloured sandstones in the Bhubaneswar group of temples and suggested staining it with various formula (‘Archaeological remains in Bengal, Bihar and Orissa: Notes by DG, ASI’, p. 23, file no. lot 31, 1909, bundle no. 6A., ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, National Archives, Regional Record Centre, Bhubaneswar). The efforts to stain the white sandstone continued unsuccessfully till 1911, when the then acting DG Jean Philippe Vogel directed the discontinuation of the practice in a letter to the Superintendent of Archaeology, Eastern Circle (letter no. 90, dated 20 February 1911, file no. 26, serial no. 483, bundle no. 24, sub.: ‘Temples of Bhubaneswar, 1911’, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). 18 File no. VIIIE/14 of 1912, ‘Declaration of Khandagiri and Udayagiri Caves, etc. in the district of Puri as Protected Monuments’, file no. 2672 B & O, original no. 1–14, Education Department (Archaeology Branch), May 2013, Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. 19 Letter no. 1577, dated 26 August 1915, Education Department (Archaeology Branch), Government of Bihar and Orissa, file no. 26, serial no. 483, bundle no. 24, sub.: ‘Temples of Bhubaneswar, 1911’, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. 20 The Jainas objected to the demolition of certain pillars as well as to the entry of officials with their shoes on to the caves. The government recognised that this action violated Section 13 of the AMPA. See file no. 2690, Bihar and Orissa, original file no. 10–18, sub.: ‘Objections to the removal of stones, and excavation of Jaina temple in the Udayagiri and Khandagiri caves’, Education Department (Archaeology Branch), January 1915, Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar;

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file no. 2692 B & O, original file no. 8–9, sub.: ‘Guardianship of the Udayagiri and Khandagiri caves’, Education Department (Archaeology Branch), January 1915, Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. Letter no. B 38/818, dated 11 April 1947, to Additional District Magistrate (ADM), Puri, from Superintendent, ASI, Central Circle, Patna, serial no. 239, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. ‘From the sub-overseer K. M. Pattanaik stationed at Khandagiri, I learn that the Chakla Qanungo demarcated the protected area of the caves yesterday but sufficient land in front of Bajadhara and Chhota Hathi Gumpha (Plot no 20 and 22) has not been included. The portion that is needed has already been cleared of all jungle, levelled and dressed. If any portion of the land falls within any other plots not belonging to Khas mahal, it may please be acquired and made over to the department, as it is required as a means of access to and convenient inspection of the monument under section 2 of AMPA’ (letter, dated 8 July 1947, from Archaeological Officer, Bhubaneswar, to ADM, Puri, serial no. 239, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). ‘Today I visited the spot and enquired into the matter. I also contacted the persons in charge of the management of Padukamath and explained to them the views of the ASI. Their contention was that before this there existed a kutcha thatched house of considerable height at that place where erection of a pucca building is now in progress and as this pucca building will be of lesser height than the thatch, it will not be of greater hindrance than the kutcha house. Their further contention was that when the Jaina dharmashala and other Jaina establishments near Padukamath also partly obstructed the view of the Udayagiri caves from the road, there was no move or attempt to remove all those obstacles the present move to stop the construction of the building of the only Hindu religious establishment Padukamath, there is nothing but an attempt of the Jainas to remove from there all the symbols of the Hindu religion and so they expressed resentment at such a move’ (copy of letter no. 1520, dated 7 August 1950, from Tahsildar, Bhubaneswar, to SDO, Khurda, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). ‘The Math is situated just in front of the Udayagiri caves, which is one of the most important Jaina monuments in India, protected under the AMP Act 1904. The existence of a kutcha shed which was not much of a hindrance (Padukamath) to our monuments and that is why it was not objected by this department. But the erection of a pucca building not only clashes with the surroundings but will obscure the approach and view of the monuments. It was therefore strongly objected to even by my predecessors. There is no other alternative to save the monument except to completely prohibit the erection of a pucca structure in place of the existing kutcha one, even if it at the cost of acquiring the Math land for this department. If you think this is the only way out, kindly let me know the cost of the land to be acquired so as to enable me to approach the DGA’ (memo. of T. Ramachandran, Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, to ADM, Puri, memo. no. B-38/955, dated 4 April 1950, Tahsildar, Bhubaneswar, to SDO, Khurda, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). ASI file no. 15-H 1/145, ‘Barabhuji caves at Khandagiri Orissa: Petition’, dated 27 October 1945, from inhabitants of villages Jagamara, Aiginia, Dumuduma, Baramunda, Nayapalli in the Bhubaneswar Police Station, Central Archaeological Office Record Room, New Delhi.

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26 ‘As personally explained at Khandagiri, cooking of food in the caves or in front of them cannot be permitted. If the bhog is to be cooked for offering to the deities, it may be cooked at the foot of the hill near the dharmashala and offered but under no circumstances can the cooking of food on the platform in front of the Barabhuji cave be allowed’ (ASI file no. 15-H/1/145, ‘Barabhuji caves at Khandagiri Orissa: Letter from K. N. Puri, Officiating Superintendent, ASI, Central Circle, Patna’, letter no. B38/1717, Central Archaeological Office Record Room, New Delhi). 27 Letter, dated 25 June 1950, from T. Ramachandran to Chotelal Jain, Secretary, Eastern India Digambar Jaina Teertha Committee, sub.: ‘Slaughtering of animals and fowls, etc within the jurisdiction of sacred places’, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. ‘Sir, With reference to your letter no. 363 dated 26.9.49, I have the honour to enclose herewith a copy of communication received from the Additional District Magistrate Puri on the subject Copy of ADM, Puri (Abstract) ‘A sign board with a stand has already been fixed near the foot of the Khandagiri hills prohibiting killing of animals near about Jaina temple’ (ibid.). 28 Letter, dated 4 March 1950, from T. Ramachandran to ADM, Puri, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. 29 A. K. Moitra wrote to the Superintendent: ‘I beg to report that the managing committee of the Jain temple on the Khandagiri hills are [sic] going to install an image in a temple in their existing compound on the top of the hill. For this purpose they are going to perform a big Puja. They are taking electric light on the Khandagiri hills temporarily for the occasion for which they are fixing some bamboo post and light on the hill. Necessary instruction may kindly be given whether they will be allowed to fix the posts and lights on the hills’ (letter no. B/134, dated 12 March 1950, from A. K. Moitra, CA, Archaeological Office, Bhubaneswar, to Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, bundle no. 12, serial no. 239, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). The Superintendent wrote back: ‘[T]here should be no objection from our side. The watchman should be given instruction to see that our monuments premises are not encroached upon or interfered with in any way either by the Jaina temple authorities or the visiting public’ (letter no. B-38/1038 dated 15 April 1950, from Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, A. K. Moitra, Archaeological Office, Bhubaneswar, bundle no. 12, serial no. 239, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). 30 File no. Nil, sub: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. 31 Malikas (oracles of prophecies) of medieval Bhakti saints, especially of Acyutananda Das, are very popular in Orissa. Composed between 16th and 17th centuries CE, they describe in detail what would happen in various parts of Orissa at the end of the Kali yuga, the last epoch/era/age in the Brahmanical four-age cosmic time-cycle). 32 The handbill contains the names of the mahants of various mathas, most of whom were from lower caste as suggested by their titles. In addition to Khirod Chandra Dev Verma and Kanhu Charan Das (founder of the Harijan Satsang), these mahants included: Maharshi Biasnabandana Dev Goswami, in-charge of Viraja Mandal of Jajpur; Babaji Digambar Das of Ghatakia Ashram, Khandagiri; Babaji Arjun Chandra Das of Palakiri Ashram; Dhamnagar, Bhadrak; Babaji Ramprasad Das of Raigad, Chhattisgarh; Shri Govinda Chandra Das of Padmapur Ashram; Shri Fakir Mallik of Ragadi Ashram; Shri Kumar Prasad Mallik of Tangi Ashram; Shri Dhokei Jena of Teruan Ashram; Govinda Mallick

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36 37 38 39

40 41 42 43 44 45 46

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of Ghantimunda Ashram; Sanatan Jena of Jenapur Ashram, Cuttack district; Jatha Jena of Charana Ashram; Rajan Majhi of Ghatakia Ashram; and Baraju Bhoi of Andharuan Ashram. Note no. 91, by John Marshall, DG, ASI, file no. Lot 31 (‘Archaeological remains in Bengal, Bihar and Orissa’), bundle no. 6A, 1909, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. Letter no. B/137, dated 19 May 1951, from A. K. Moitra, CA, ASI, to Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, bundle no. 12, serial no. 239, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. Letter, dated 17 May 1951, from Dharmaraj Shriman Khirod Chandra Dev Verma, to CA, ASI, bundle no. 12, serial no. 239, file no. Nil, sub.: ‘Antiquities in Koraput District, 1947’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. K. P. Jayaswal and R. D. Banerji, ‘Hatigumpha Inscription of Kharavela’, Epigraphia Indica, 1929–30, 20(7): 80. R. D. Banerji, ‘Inscriptions in the Udayagiri and Khandagiri Caves’, Epigraphia Indica, 1915–16, 13(7): 159–66. Mitra, Udayagiri and Khandagiri, p. 59. The present temple located on the terraced crest of the Khandagiri hill is dedicated to Rishabhadeva, the first Jaina Tirthankara. The main image, made of white marble, was installed in 1920, but the temple consisting of a sanctum and audience hall is older. According to Rajendra Lal Mitra (Antiquities of Orissa), the temple was built in the first quarter of 19th century by Manju Chowdhury and his nephew Bhabvani Dau of Cuttack. Kittoe, who visited the place in 1837, says: ‘There is a Jaina temple of modern construction, it having been built during the Maharatta rule’. Stirling, in his report of 1825, simply notes the temples as a modern construction. The original image, according to him, was of Parshvanatha, but Debala Mitra (Udayagiri and Khandagiri, p. 71) mentions that it was of Mahavira. Stirling, ‘Account, Geographical, Statistical and Historical, of Orissa Proper, or Cuttack’, pp. 311–12. Ananta Das, ‘Bhabisyata Purana’, in Mahagupta Padmakalpa, compiled by Brajaraja Barik, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d., p. 96. Hadi Das, ‘Agata Bhabisya Malika’, in Acyutananda Malika, compiled by Babaji Paramananda Das, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d., p. 75. Ibid. Acyutananda Das, ‘Yugabdha Gita’, in Acyutananda Malika, compiled by Babaji Paramananda Das, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d., p. 37. Acyutananda Das, Terajanmasarana, compiled by Babaji Paramananda Das, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d., p. 28. Kalki rupare janama hebe Srichakradhara. Khiradhara bahi jauchi stana Amarabati, Khandagiri stana gupate siddha sadhu achanti. Gumphare bhajana lagichi ratra dina madhyare, Gupate khela se khelibe prabhu sehi thabara (Das, Agata Bhabisya Malika, p. 60). Prabhu dayakari thibe bhakatamananku, ajnya debe mundatekibaku basukiku. Mo bhktathiba stanare pahada hoiba, jala pabana kichi hi kari na pariba. Anantagumpha madhyare mo bhkta rahibe, se belare sarakar khadya pakaeibi (Acyutananda Das, ‘Padmakalpatika’, in Bhabisyata Parardha, compiled by Narayana Chandra Das of Siddhagiri Matha, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d., p. 73). Hermann Kulke, Kings and Cults: State Formation and Legitimation in India and Southeast Asia, New Delhi: Manohar, 1993, p. 17. James Fergusson, History of Indian and Eastern Architecture, vol. 2, London: John Murray, 1910, p. 99.

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50 Deborah Sutton, ‘Devotion, Antiquity and Colonial Custody of the Hindu Temple in British India’, Modern Asian Studies, 2013, 47(1): 137. 51 Draft letter to Chief Secretary of Government of Bihar and Orissa and to DG, ASI, 1918, sub.: ‘Temples of Bhubaneswar, Orissa’, file no. 26, ‘Temples of Bhubaneswar’, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. 52 The Bhubaneswar Temple Committee was created by the government on the basis of Religious Endowment Act. It was clearly in charge of the management of all temples of Bhubaneswar, including the Lingaraja temple; the members of the Lingaraja Temple Committee, also created as per the Religious Endowment Act, were members of the Bhubaneswar Temple Committee as well. However, the revenue officials confused management with ownership and wrongly assumed that Bhubaneswar Temple Committee was the owner of the Lingaraja temple lands. 53 ‘In the recent case of Padesvari temple, whose stones were being used for repairs of Parvati temple . . . without even notifying the Collector . . . in the process of which the Parvati/Gauri temple, which is undergoing extensive repair; as I am told at the private cost of a gentleman in Calcutta. In regard to this latter case, I wish to explain that I do not for [a] moment advise any action which would discourage private interest or private generosity. But at the same time it ought to be made legally impossible for anyone to tamper with the Bhubaneswar temples without the full knowledge and express permission of Government’ (letter no. 55, dated 30 January 1911, to Secretary, Government of Bengal, General Department, from T. Bloch, Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, file no. 26, bundle no. 24, serial no. 483, sub.: ‘Temples of Bhubaneswar’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). 54 Letter, dated 29 January 1911, from Babu Priyanath Chaterjee, Member, Bhubaneswar Temple Committee, to D. B. Spooner, Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, file no. VIII E/5 of 193, Education Department (Archaeology Branch), Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. 55 ‘Bhubaneswar is described to have been a place of several thousand temples, many of these have gone and many are going out and now only some of the important and picturesque ones are cared for. If funds are not forthcoming either from the benign government or from the general public to cope with the ravages of time by necessary repairs in view of archaeological or historical or mythological interest, and if the benign government having graciously repaired some of the temples allowed others to remain dilapidated and neglected, I submit, the Committee may be allowed a little discretion to use in the matter by being left free to make use of the stone of the dilapidated temples for the resuscitation and reparation of some of the more important and picturesque ones’ (letter no. 2580, dated 8 December 1910, from Babu Priyanath Chaterjee to Collector, Puri, file no. 26, bundle no. 24, serial no. 483, sub.: ‘Temples of Bhubaneswar’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). 56 ‘Its demolition appears to me the only alternative to the rebuilding, which latter course was hardly advisable from the archaeological point of view as far as the individual monument was concerned, nor in my opinion feasible without the introduction of new material to such an extent as to destroy in large measure the authenticity of the building. I consider, therefore, that Mr Longhurst was thoroughly justified in making the recommendation. And the PWD was entirely justified in undertaking the demolition as they were merely carrying out the orders of the Govt’ (letter no. 55, dated 30 January 1911, to Secretary, Government of Bengal, General Department, from T. Bloch, Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, file no. 26, bundle no. 24, serial no. 483, sub.: ‘Temples of Bhubaneswar’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar).

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57 ‘What is needed at Bhubaneswar is a carefully thought out programme of work, so that we may know just how many monuments are to be maintained at public or private expense, and what the limits of our expenditure are to be. We must also decide on a definite policy as to the preservation of temples still in use for religious purposes, as distinct from those where worship is no longer performed. Hitherto a certain number of temples have been selected, and I may add, very judiciously selected, for repair according to their architectural merits, but of these some appear to be still frequented by worshippers and might be closed to the public at any moment, just as the great Lingaraja temple has been closed; some are said to belong to private owners, and no arrangements regarding their upkeeps have been entered into, and some which are government’s property, are in the actual occupation of private persons. The first thing then to be done is to ascertain 1. Which temples now belong to or can be permanently acquired by the government; 2. Which are to remain in private ownership; and 3. Which are now being used for worship. It is rarely expedient to spend money on monuments which are still in use for religious purposes, unless their architecture is of very exceptional merits, and a permanent right of entry can be secured for the public and for officers charged with the duty of keeping them in repair. At Bhubaneswar, the group of temples is so large, and there is generally so little to choose between the architecture of those in use and of those which are not, that, with one or two possible exceptions, we might decide to exclude the former class from our list. As regards to those which are in private possession, but are not used for religious purposes, the terms on which they are to be maintained will be regulated by Ancient Monument Act. If their owners can be induced in any instance to provide for their upkeep, so much better, the Government will be saved from unnecessary expenses. If they cannot, and personally I doubt if there is much likelihood of the owners being able to assist), then the practical control over them will pass into the hands of government’ (note no. 89–90: Bhubaneswar, by John Marshall, dated 28 February 1905, file: Archaeological remains in Bengal, Bihar and Orissa, p. 23; notes by John Marshall, DG, ASI, file no. lot 31, 1909, bundle no. 6A, p. 22, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar). 58 Letter no. 55, dated 30 January 1911, to Secretary, Government of Bengal, General Department, from T. Bloch, Superintendent, ASI, Eastern Circle, Calcutta, file no. 26, bundle no. 24, serial no. 483, sub.: ‘Temples of Bhubaneswar’, Regional Record Centre, National Archives, Bhubaneswar. 59 The 14 monuments recommended by the ASI, Eastern Circle, for protection under the AMPA were: Mukteshvara temple, Rajarani temple, Brahmeshvara temple, Parashurameshvara temple, Nriteshvara temple, Sari deul temple, Ananta Vasudeva temple, Siddheshvara temple, Sahasralinga tank, Megheshvara temple, Chitrakarini temple, Bhaskareshvara temple, Vaitala temple, and Yameshvara temple. The government notified these monuments as protected monuments, excluding the Lingaraja (notification no. 2488 E, dated 1 November 1913, Government of Bihar and Orissa, file no. VIIIE/5 of 1913, file no. 2680, B & O, sub.: ‘Declaration of certain temples of Bhubaneswar as protected monuments’, Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar). Further, the Commissioner of Orissa Division assumed the guardianship of these monuments in 1915 (letter no. 1577 from J. C. B. Drake, Under Secretary to Government of Bihar and Orissa, Education Department, Education Branch, to Commissioner, Orissa Division, in ERC 26). 60 Letter no. 33, dated 7 July 1919, file no. XIE/25 of 1919/2730 B & O, sub.: ‘Repair of Lingaraja temple’, Education Department (Archaeology Branch), Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar.

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61 In 1922, the colonial government sanctioned 2,410 for repairs to be carried out in the Lingaraja temple; the amount was a fraction of the total cost ( 73,000) for the repair work, estimated by Dayaram Sahni (D. B. Spooner, Annual Report of the Archaeological Survey of India, 1922–1923, Simla: Government of India, 1922, p. 41). 62 Clause 13, ‘Protection of place of worship from misuse, pollution or desecration’: ‘(1) A place of worship or shrine maintained by the Government under this Act shall not be used for any purpose inconsistent with its character. (2) Where the Collector has, under section 4, purchased or taken a lease of any protected monument or has accepted a gift or bequest, or the Commissioner has, under the same section accepted the guardianship thereof, and such monument, or any part thereof, is periodically used for religious worship or observances by any community, the Collector shall make due provision for the protection of such monument, or such part thereof, from pollution or desecration – (a) by prohibiting the entry therein, except in accordance with condition prescribed with the concurrence of the persons in religious charge of the said monument or part thereof, of any person not entitled so to enter by the religious usages of the community by which the monument or part thereof is used, or (b) by taking such other action as he may think necessary in this behalf’ (http://asi.nic.in/ pdf_data/5.pdf). 63 Report of B. S. Mardaraj, Tahsildar, Khurda, dated 8 September, file no. VIIIE/5, 1919, No-3–25, sub.: ‘Declaration of certain temples at Bhubaneswar as protected monuments under the Ancient Monuments Preservation Act VII of 1904’, p. 6., Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. 64 J. H. Marshall, Conservation Manual: A Handbook for the Use of Archaeological Officers and Others Entrusted with the Care of Ancient Monuments, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, India, 1923, p. 11. 65 Letter from DG, ASI, to all Superintendents of Archaeology, 10 January 1922, Education Department, Misc., file no. 9A-28, July 1922, nos B 51–53, sub.: Insertion of a new clause in agreements for the preservation of religious building, State Archives of Bengal, Kolkata. 66 R. E. Russell, officiating Collector, Puri, to Commissioner, Orissa Division, 8 February 1921, Education Department (Archaeology Branch), B process, December 1921, nos 50–71, sub.: ‘Conservation of Black Pagoda at Konark in Puri District’, accession no. 2731 B & O, Education (Archaeology) Department, Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. 67 Letter from Magistrate, Puri, to Commissioner, Orissa Division, dated 4 March 1915, file no. 1–61, September 1915, sub.: ‘Preservation of monuments which are property of Government’, accession no. 2697 B & O, Education Department (Archaeology Branch), Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. 68 Letter no. 656, Puri Collectorate, dated 13 March 1912, from Collector, Puri, to Commissioner, Orissa Division, file no. VIIIE/5 of 1913, nos 3–25, accession no. 2680 B & O, Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. 69 Ibid., p. 12. 70 Ibid., pp. 12–13. 71 Bibhuti Bhusan Mukherji, Government Pleader, Puri, 11 March 1913, pp. 12–13, file no. VIIIE/5 of 1913, no 3–25, accession no. 280 B & O, Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. 72 In a recent judgment, the Orissa High Court gave a verdict that the sevayats, who have been enjoying the property of Lingaraja over centuries and have got pattas (record of rights) from revenue officials, are not the legal owners of the property and therefore, cannot alienate this property. They are in possession of this property in lieu of their services to Lord Lingaraja. Thakur Lingaraja is, thus, the owner of the property of the Lingaraja temple (‘W. P. (C) nos 13689

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of 2009 and 1770 of 2012 Chittaranjan Sahoo & Smt. Bimala Kabi Satapathy versus Collector, Khurda and others, High Court of Orissa, http://lobis.nic.in/ ori/BMP/judgement/08-01-2014/BMP09012014WP(C)17702012.pdf, accessed on 9 January 2014). 73 Letter. no 179, dated 13 September 1913, from G. C. Paharaj, Government Pleader, Puri, to Collector, Puri, pp. 19–23, file no. VIIIE/5 of 1913, nos 3–25, accession no. 280 B & O, Orissa State Archives, Bhubaneswar. 74 Arjun Appadurai, ‘The Past as a Scarce Resource’, Man (New Series), 1981, 16(2): 201–19.

Select references Appadurai, Arjun, ‘The Past as a Scarce Resource’, Man (New Series), 1981, 16(2): 201–19. Banerji, R. D., ‘Inscriptions in the Udayagiri and Khandagiri Caves’, Epigraphia Indica, 1915–16, 13(7): 159–66. Basa, K. K. and P. Mohanty, Archaeology of Orissa, New Delhi: Pratibha Prakashan, 2000. Chakrabarti, D. K., India: An Archaeological History: Palaeolithic Beginnings to Early Historical Foundations, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999. Cunningham, A., Inscriptions of Asoka, Varanasi: Indological Book House, 1961 [1877]. Das, Acyutananda, ‘Padmakalpatika’, in Bhabisyata Parardha, compiled by Narayana Chandra Das of Siddhagiri Matha, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d. ———, Terajanmasarana, compiled by Babaji Paramananda Das, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d. ———, ‘Yugabdha Gita’, in Acyutananda Malika, compiled by Babaji Paramananda Das, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d. Das, Ananta, ‘Bhabisyata Purana’, in Mahagupta Padmakalpa, compiled by Brajaraja Barik, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d. Das, Hadi, ‘Agata Bhabisya Malika’, in Acyutananda Malika, compiled by Babaji Paramananda Das, Cuttack: Dharmagrantha Store, n.d. Eliade, Mircea, Images and Symbols: Studies in Religious Symbolism, trans. Philip Mairet, Princeton, NJ: Princeton: University Press, 1991. Fergusson, James, Illustration of Rock-Cut Temples of India, London: John Weale, 1845. ———, History of Indian and Eastern Architecture, vol. 2, London: John Murray, 1910. ———, Archaeology in India with Special Reference to the Works of Babu Rajendra Lal Mitra, Delhi: K. K. Publications, 1974 [1884]. Gellner, D. N., Monk, Householder, and Tantric Priest: Newar Buddhism and Its Hierarchy of Ritual, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Jayaswal, K. P. and R. D. Banerji, ‘Hatigumpha Inscription of Kharavela’, Epigraphia Indica, 1929–30, 20(7): 71–89. King, Richard, Orientalism and Religion: Postcolonial Theory, India and ‘the Mystic East’, London: Routledge, 1999. Kittoe, M., ‘Ruins and Pillar at Jajipur’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1838, 7: 53–6. Kulke, Hermann, Kings and Cults: State Formation and Legitimation in India and Southeast Asia, New Delhi: Manohar, 1993.

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Lahiri, N., ‘Bodh Gaya: An Ancient Buddhist Shrine and Its Modern History (1891– 1904)’, in Timothy Insoll (ed.), Case Studies in Archaeology and World Religion: The Proceedings of the Cambridge Conference, BAR International Series, 755, Oxford: Archaeopress, 1999, pp. 33–43. Marshall, J. H., Conservation Manual: A Handbook for the Use of Archaeological Officers and Others Entrusted with the Care of Ancient Monuments, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, India, 1923. Mitra, Debala, Udayagiri and Khandagiri, New Delhi: Director General, Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), 1960. Mitra, Rajendra Lal, Antiquities of Orissa, Calcutta: Baptist Mission Press, 1875. Mitter, P., Art and Nationalism in Colonial India, 1850–1922: Occidental Orientations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Mubayi, Y., Altar of Power: The Temple and the State in the Land of Jagannatha, New Delhi: Manohar, 2005. Owens, B. McCoy, ‘Monumentality, Identity, and the State: Local Practice, World Heritage, and Heterotopia at Swayambhu, Nepal’, Anthropological Quarterly, 2002, 75(2): 269–316. Prinsep, James, ‘Note on Inscriptions of Udayagiri and Khandagiri in Cuttack, in the Lát Character’, Journal of Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1837, 6: 1072–91. Ray, Himanshu Prabha, ‘The Apsidal Shrine in Early Hinduism: Origins, Cultic Affiliation, Patronage’, World Archaeology, 2004, 36(3): 343–59. ———, ‘Archaeology and Empire: Buddhist Monuments in Monsoon Asia’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, 2008, 45(3): 417–49. ———, Colonial Archaeology in South Asia: The Legacy of Sir Mortimer Wheeler, New Delhi: Oxford University Press (OUP), 2008. Singh, Upinder, Discovery of Ancient India: Early Archaeologists and the Beginnings of Archaeology, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2004. Spooner, D. B., Annual Report of the Archaeological Survey of India, 1922–1923, Simla: Government of India, 1922. Stirling, Andrew, ‘Account, Geographical, Statistical and Historical, of Orissa Proper, or Cuttack’, Asiatic Researches, 1825, 15: 163–338. Sutton, Deborah, ‘Devotion, Antiquity and Colonial Custody of the Hindu Temple in British India’, Modern Asian Studies, 2013, 47(1): 135–66. Thompson, E. P., William Morris: Romantic to Revolutionary, New York: Pantheon, 1976. Trevithick, A., ‘British Archaeologists, Hindu Abbots, and Burmese Buddhists: The Mahabodhi Temple at Bodh Gaya, 1811–1877’, Modern Asian Studies, 1999, 33(3): 635–56. Wedemeyer, C. K., ‘Tropes, Typologies, and Turnarounds: A Brief Genealogy of the Historiography of Tantric Buddhism’, History of Religions, 2001, 40(3): 223–59.

10 Continuity and change in the sacred landscape of the Buddhist site of Udayagiri, Odisha Umakanta Mishra

The present chapter explores continuity and change in the sacred landscape of the Buddhist site of Udayagiri in coastal Odisha in particular and other sites in the Diamond Triangle such as those of Lalitagiri and Ratnagiri in general, by studying one aspect of religious practice, i.e., the worship of the stupa and changes therein throughout their existence, as well as exploring the underlying religious ideologies which prompted these changes. Stupa worship in Udayagiri saw four major phases of development which brought about many changes in the sacred landscape. The Diamond Triangle comprises the three monastic complexes, with the distance between Ratnagiri and Udayagiri being 5.5 kilometres as the crow flies and 3.5 kilometres between Udayagiri and Lalitagiri. The archaeology of these monastic complexes has a long history, as these sites were known since the 19th century. Though Buddhist remains from Udayagiri on the river Birupa were first recorded in 1870, it was only in 1985 that large-scale excavations were undertaken at this extensive site, which in many ways is different from that of Ratnagiri and Lalitagiri. Excavations uncovered a stupa, two monasteries and a shrine complex, a caityagṛha complex as also a massive water reservoir. Stupa as containing the corporeal relics of the Buddha or Buddhist saints remained an object of worship throughout the history of Buddhism. The sacred stupa area had spiritual magnetism for carrying the presence of the Buddha or Buddhist saints and the reminder of the Buddha’s physical presence as well as of his dharma. The darshan of the stupa and a memorial near it ensured merit and therefore, the mahastupa area attracted stupas of many other Buddhist monks and laymen who ensured burial of their śarīra-dhātu so that they remain in the orbit of the spiritual magnetism of the main stupa. In the sacred sites of the Candraditya vihāra of Lalitagiri or Mahastupa of Udayagiri, the substantive presence of jostling stupas are not concentrated in the mahastupa area but in the caityagṛha area, raising questions about its rationale, which is attempted here. The worship of the stupa underwent major changes from 5th century CE with the pratītyasamutpādasūtra – both its Gāthā and Nidāna section – being inserted inside stupas. In the next phase starting from 7th century

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CE of the evolution of the stupa in Udayagiri II area, dhāraṇīs on stone slabs or plaques were inserted in the stupas. These dhāraṇī stupas were considered highly meritorious, and also contained protective spells which were believed to have bestowed on the donors many merits. The insertion of dharma cetiya such as pratītya-samutpādadhāraṇī or other dhāraṇīs such as vimaloṣinisadhāraṇī can be associated with the practice of burial of an ascetic and as an act of gaining merit. In the fourth and final phase, the maṇḍala stupa emerged on a high platform in Udayagiri I area which developed in 8th–9th century CE. Identified as a Mahākaruṇāgarbhodbhava maṇḍala stupa, this stupa marked the development of caryā- and Yoga tantra-based landscaping of the religious sites of Udayagiri and Ratnagiri. Such maṇḍala stupas first appeared in the 7th century in Lalitagiri but became quite ubiquitous across the Bay of Bengal. The maṇḍala stupa, unlike structure 60 or 45 of Udayagiri or Mahastupa of Ratnagiri and caityagṛha complex of Lalitagiri, did not see much of structural stupa construction activity, suggesting that the area had restricted access to others for construction of structural stupas or for donation of the votive stupas. The maṇḍala stupa reflects the growing influence of tantricism in the general cultural milieu including in the royal court.

Stupa worship and ‘burial ad sanctos’ near sacred stupa In the Śarīra-dhātu-vibhājana section of the Mahāparinibbāṇna-sutta of the Dīgha Nikāya, the king Ajātaśatru of Magadha had heard that the Buddha was deceased and concluded that “[Since] the Lord was a khattiya (Skt. kṣatriya), and so am I, I deserve a portion of the Buddha’s relics. I will build stupas for them.”1 Following suit, six groups – namely the Licchāvıs of Vesālī, the Mallians of Kuśīnāra, the Śākyas of Kapilāvatthu, the Bulas of Allakappa, the Koliyans of Rāmagāma and the Mallians of Pāvā – came from all over northern India and similarly decided that they also deserved a portion of the Buddha’s relics. The relics were divided into eight parts and Ajātaśatru built Droṇa stupa. Whether this textual account refers to an actual historical event is not conclusively proved but worship and paying homage to the Buddha’s reminders (cetiyas) was prevalent in early Buddhism. They were considered as ‘fields of merit’. The worship and devotion to various cetiyas started in Buddha’s time.2 One important ritual, the Confession of Faith, which appears first in Khuddaka Pāṭha of the Khuddaka Nikāya, refers to taking refuge in the Buddha, Saṁgha and Dharma, is an instance of universalisation and internalisation of an important ritual of paying obeisance to the ‘cetiyas’ associated with the Buddha.3 Similarly, in the Mahāparinibbāṇna Sutta, Buddha exhorted Ānanda to visit four places associated with his life as an act of pilgrimage. An earlier 3rd-century BCE version of this act of utterance during pilgrimage to the four sacred sites, such as Buddha was born here, got enlightenment here, etc. is also present in the Rumindei and Nigali Sagar inscription of

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Asoka, where the emperor also states, “hide Buddha jāta” (“here Buddha was born”). Buddha states in the Mahāparinibbāṇna Sutta, After I have passed away, monks, those making the pilgrimage to the shrines, honouring the shrines, will come (to those places), they will speak in this way: “here the blessed One was born, here the blessed One attained the highest most excellent awakening.”4 The Pāli version uses the term dassaniyāni (Skt. darsan) of these four places. Moreover, not only pilgrims utter these words “here Buddha was born, got enlightenment, etc.,” it also makes Buddha state, “Those who during that time (of pilgrimage) die here with a believing mind in my presence (Buddha present in the shrine), all those who have karma still to work out, go to heaven.” As Schopen shows in his article, the śarīra dhātu is a cetiya of the presence of Buddha after his death; it is also the place where many Buddhist monks and laymen preferred to die so that the spiritual field of Buddha also affects their afterlife. Therefore, there are several small monolithic stupas which were found in Bodh Gaya and Ratnagiri’s Mahastupa, which jostled with each other for a touch of the Mahastupa.5 Further, the place also contains his dharma (teaching) and therefore, dharma cetiyas along with śarīra dhātu were inserted into some of the votive stupas. The living field of the Buddha in his śarīra or dharma dhātu sanctifies not only the site but also endowed other living saints with his potency. Hence, there were numerous sealings of monks (in Bodh Gaya and Ratnagiri), which acted as a spiritual storehouse of Buddha’s power), who by virtue of their own spiritual power and their presence in the sacred site, also developed spiritual power, some of which were encapsulated in their sealings which would protect and energise the carrier. Sealings found from Ratnagiri bearing legends such as cintāmaṇi-rakṣita or of other monks contained in them energy of the Buddha, the Buddhist site and Buddhist monks also.

Stupa worship in Odisha Pre-Asokan archaeological evidence of stupa worship in Odisha has not been found so far in Odisha even though the Buddhist canonical work Mahāvagga of Vinayapiṭaka and Anguttara Nikāya refer to Tappuṣa and Bhallika, two merchants of Ukkala (Utkala) as the first lay disciples of the Buddha.6 They offered honey cake (madhu piṇḍa) to Buddha just after Buddha’s enlightenment, took refuge in his teachings and the Buddha, in return, gave them his hair, which they took away to their land and contained this śārīrika cetiya (physical relic) in a stupa. There are two brāhmī inscriptions of Asokan character which are found inscribed on ruined Buddhist hillock sites of Tarapur near Jajpur. One inscription refers to keśathūpa and the other refers to bhekhu tapussa dānam. Many scholars question the authenticity of the two inscriptions. The absence of patination in them raises strong doubt about the genuineness of the inscription.

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The Aśokāvadāna and the Chinese Buddhist pilgrim Xuanzang refer to the construction of 84,000 stupas by Asoka throughout his empire. The spread of Buddhism in Odisha by Asoka is attributed by Xuanzang as well. The relevant section from the Aśokāvadāna reads: Then King Aśoka, intending to distribute far and wide the bodily relics of the Blessed One, went together with a fourfold army to the Droṇa stupa that Ajataśatru had built. He broke it open, took out all the relics, and putting back a portion of them, set up a new stupa. He did the same with the second stupa and so on up to the seventh one, removing the relics from each of them and then setting up new stupas as tokens of his devotion. Then Asoka had 84,000 boxes made of gold, silver, cat’s eye and crystal, and in them were placed the relics. Also, 84,000 urns and 84,000 inscription plates were prepared. All of this was given to the yakṣas for distribution in the (84,000) dharmarājikas (=stupas) he ordered built throughout the earth as far as the surrounding ocean, in the small, great and middle-sized towns, wherever there was a (population of) 100,000 (persons).7 Xuanzang refers to this tradition of construction of 84,000 stupas and states that at least ten stupas in Wu-Cha (Oḍra, Odisha) were constructed by Asoka, one of which, named Puṣpagiri (Pu-se-po-ki-li), made of stone, emitted bright light on fast days.8 Dhauli, which contains the elephant and the Major Rock Edicts of Asoka, seems to contain an ancient stupa near the edict, which existed as late as the 19th century. In the last century, several scholars noticed the remains of a stupa.9 Odisha was an early centre of Buddhism from the early historical period. The Diamond Triangle Buddhist sites of Lalitagiri, Udayagiri emerged as important Buddhist centres from the 2nd–1st century BCE, even though Ratnagiri belonged to a slightly later period and all of them continued for more than a millennium. They are located in the Asia group of hills in the undivided Cuttack district (Map 10.1).

Caityagr∙ha complex as an area of attraction in Udayagiri Udayagiri is the largest Buddhist complex in Odisha. Located on the foothill of the Asia group of hills (spurs of the Eastern Ghats) in the Dharmashala block of the undivided Cuttack district of the state, the site is a honeycomb valley spreading over 345 acres of area. This honeycomb site is divided into two sections by almost a natural ridge in north-south direction. The site overlooks vast stretches of alluvial plain watered by the deltaic river system of Birupa in the east (Map 10.2). The north-western part of the Udayagiri complex (Udayagiri I), in the form of Mahāstupa and Monastery I developed in the 8th century CE, while the eastern and southern part of the site developed in the first century BCE and saw additional alteration and expansion thereafter

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Map 10.2 Plan of Udayagiri Buddhist Complex Source: Courtesy of the author.

up to the end of the site in 12th century CE. Structurally, the caityagṛha complex which was enclosed by a brick enclosure wall later in 8th century CE saw prolific construction of stupas and shrines. It saw a circular caityagṛha and a stone platform (structure 60) coming in the first phase. In the second phase, the circular caityagṛha became apsidal and the original stupa was shifted to apsidal STR-45 with a brick stupa. This STR-45 became the centre of spiritual magnetism in the subsequent period.10The square stone platform with a masonry stupa in the middle, named as structure 60 (STR-60), is the earliest structure of Udayagiri 2 area. At the time of excavation one relic casket and two Puri-Kuṣāṇa coins were recovered near the STR-60. Ten donative inscriptions in shell characters were found on the platform as well as on the threshold and appear to have been engraved later around 4th century CE. This stupa may have changed to circular caityagṛha quite early. There are two coeval structures of 1st century BCE along with structure 60 – stupa 36 and stupa 5. This stupa witnessed four phases of construction. From the stupa area some feet ahead a soapstone relic casket (Reg. No- 220) along with one Khondalite relic container with lid (Reg. No- 217) inscribed in brāhmī characters of 1st century CE were found. Both suggest that the earliest phase of stupa may be assigned to the 1st century CE (Figure 10.1).

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Figure 10.1 Khondalite Relic Casket with Inscription in Brāhmī in One Line Stating Kohakoṇasa ja, 1st Century BCE, Udayagiri caityagṛha Complex Source: Courtesy of the author.

Structure 53 (stupa 5) in the north-west of the stone platform, has a circumambulatory pathway. The cardinal āyaka projections measuring 1.62m in length and 22cm in width and retaining six to seven courses of brick are reminiscent of structures of the Krishna valley. In the early period or in the first phase only the main stupa was built. At that time the road or stone-paved pathway (STR-167) connecting the site from the north-east side toward the west and then the approach turns toward east side to reach the stupa also developed. In the second phase (4th–7th century CE) on the stupa of structure 60 an apsidal caityagṛha was built with the main approach from the east rather than from the earlier northern side. Other structures that developed in the complex included stupa 2 (STR-100), stupa 3 (STR-104), stupa 4 (STR-105), stupa 1 (STR-103) and stupa 8 (STR-38). Of historical importance is the large standing Avalokiteśvara image with an inscription on his backside. In the third phase, a brick enclosure was constructed to demarcate this complex from other establishments of Udayagiri. The apsidal caitya complex also saw further modification by addition of a rectangular caityagṛha in about 6th–7th century CE. A shrine chamber also developed to the northwest of monastery 2 (Figure 10.2). A few stone slabs with pratītyasamutpāda sūtra were found from inside the stupas. Moreover, a small monastic courtyard was encountered below the courtyard of monastery 2 suggesting that the present monastery was built or extended on the base of an earlier one.

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Figure 10.2 Caityagṛha Complex: Most Important Spiritual Magnetic Field of Udayagiri Sacred Site Source: Courtesy of Himanshu Prabha Ray.

In the fourth phase, we see four major developments in the Udayagiri complex. A shrine platform (adhiṣṭhāna) with lions on the pedestal was built near the south of the rectangular caityagṛha, where a new monastic complex had come up in the third phase on the possible ruins of an earlier monastery. A rectangular shrine chamber also developed to the north-west of the monastery where we see monolithic stupas with five āyatanas indicating affiliation to panca-skandhas. Moreover, the Udayagiri 1 area saw the establishment of a maṇḍala stupa (Mahāstupa) and monastery 1. In the caityagṛha complex, in addition to the Simhaprasta shrine platform with vestiges of a huge Tathāgata Buddha, one sees some shrines to the south of the original approach to the caityagṛha complex, such as the shrines of Bhrukiti, Avalokiteśvara, etc. Further, the caityagṛha complex sees the setting up of scores of new stupas in all directions, especially in the south and eastern side of the complex where stone plaques of various dhāraṇīs were inserted into them, as will be discussed in later sections. Thus, the caityagṛha area acted as major area of attraction of dedication of monolithic stupas and the area saw the evolution of śārīrika, dharma cetiya and dhāraṇī stupas. Along with this complex an additional shrine chamber in the south-west of monastery 2 also served as a place for the dedication of votive stupas.

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Caityagr∙ha rather than Maha ¯ stupa acting as ‘burial ad sanctos’ in Lalitagiri The same trend of dedication of monolithic and structural stupas is also found in the nearby Buddhist establishment of Lalitagiri, which is located 7 km south-south-west of Udayagiri (Map 10.3). The Buddhist complex of Lalitagiri is largely concentred in the Nandapahada area. The stupa complex is located in the north-west part of the hill in its summit and therefore overlooks the agricultural coastal plain. The stupa is made of masonry stone and consisted of circular medhi (platform) and aṇḍa (womb). The harmikā (rectangular structure above aṇḍa) and chhatra (umbrella) are absent. Given the discovery of three caskets from inside the stupa, which bears resemblance to those at Sanchi and Nagarjunakonda, the stupa can be dated early to the 1st century BCE/CE. As many as three sets of relic casket containers made of khondalite were located on the south, east and north directions about 3m above the floor level adjacent to the edge of stupa. Two contained śarīra dhātus and the other was found empty. These relic casket containers have nether (lower) and hopper (lid). The nether exhibits a groove in the centre to accommodate the traditional steatite casket which bears the silver casket and within the silver was preserved the gold casket containing the sacred relic in the form of a charred bone (Figures 10.3 and 10.4). This type of arrangement of nested caskets one within the other is found in two relic containers. The container placed on the southern direction of the stupa did not have any relics and it was found empty.11 There is little archaeological evidence of concentration of smaller structural or votive stupas in the Mahāstupa area, even though a few of them are to be found at the base of the summit where the Mahāstupa is located. Most of the stupas – both monolithic and structural – were in the caityagṛha complex, which is located near monastery 3. Excavations carried out here during 1986–87 and 1987–88 have revealed an apsidal caityagṛha 22m in length and about 11.5m in breadth. It is pertinent to mention here that the apsidal caityagṛha was surrounded by brick and masonry stupas of varied dimensions, including numerous monolithic votive stupas all jostled together to find space near the caitya. The available associated structures of stupas (both structural and votive), epigraphs, style of sculptures as well as the stratigraphy of the site suggest that the apsidal structure was in use right from early centuries of the Common Era until 8th–9th century CE. In fact, the main apsidal caityagṛha built in brick emerged later. At the beginning, it was a circular caitya which became apsidal in the second phase, which in turn, was further expanded in 6th–7th century CE. Three main floor levels (working levels) can be distinguished corresponding to the beginning and the end of the activities at the site. In the first phase, a small stupa was constructed (3.35m in diameter) that enshrined a colossal monolithic head of Buddha.12 There was a pathway as well for circumambulation of this stupa. On the southern side of this pathway, a square pedestal (1.4 × 1.4m) was

Source: Adapted from the excavations at Lalitagiri, courtesy of Jeeban Patnaik.

Map 10.3 Map Showing the Plan of Lalitagiri

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Figure 10.3 Steatite, Silver and Golden Casket within Khondalite Casket from Mahāstūpa of Lalitagiri, 2nd Century BCE Source: Courtesy of Himanshu Prabha Ray.

Figure 10.4 Steatite Casket from Mahāstūpa of Lalitagiri, 2nd Century BCE Source: Courtesy of Himanshu Prabha Ray.

found containing an inscription in brāhmī script of 1st–2nd century CE. The inscription seems to record the “completion (samavita) of the seat (āsana) of Adatamana probably jointly by Vinaya, a resident of Baddhammāna, a certain Vinayadhara and his disciple Bodhitīni, a resident of Aggotiśila.”13 Subsequently, a masonry pradakṣiṇā patha was added to it along with a projected porch with a semi-circular end. In the next phase in around 6th–7th century CE, the stupa was converted into an apsidal structure by brick work. However, the inner pradakṣiṇā continued to be in use. In the third phase,

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the periphery of the apsidal structure was given a face lift by laying out of a wide masonry pathway (pradakṣiṇā patha). Votive stupas have been found mainly around the largest stone stupa in the centre of the apsidal caityagṛha. Besides, a large number of fallen votive stupas and sculptures of the Buddha in various postures retrieved from excavation have been re-arranged on its peripheral region (pradakṣiṇā patha) in an alignment as per original. These sculptures only of Buddha were so arranged that one can see the apsidal shape in its alignment. Thus, the caityagṛha area seems to have acted as the spiritual core of the sacred site of Lalitagiri and attracted others to construct the stupas and consecrate images in the complex throughout the historical period. The starting point of the visit to the sacred site started with the arrival at the caityagṛha complex as the original paved staircase was from the east, suggesting direct access to the site. The area is abound with votive stupas and small structural stupas. The caityagṛha area also saw a large alignment of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas from 5th century CE. There was another ancient pathway which took the pilgrims to the Mahāstupa. There is no evidence of votive stupas in the summit area but are concentrated near the sculpture shed area, which is at the base of the summit where the Mahāstupa stood.

Evolution of stupa: from Śarıˉra dhaˉ tu to dharmadhaˉ tu (5th century CE onwards) The most important development in the second phase is the finding of pratītyasamutpādasūtra inside the stupas. Both gāthā and nidāna of pratītyasamutpādasūtra began to be inserted inside the stupas from the 1st century CE as evident from the Kurram casket.14 From the 5th century CE onwards, the Buddhist Diamond Triangle sites of Lalitagiri, Udayagiri and Ratnagiri contained terracotta plaques or stone slabs of gāthā of the Samutpāda inside the stupas.15 The gāthā section, “ye dharmā hetuprabhavā, hetuṃ teṣāṃ tathāgato hyāvadat, teṣāṃ ca yo nirodha evaṃ vādī mahāśramaṇa”16 occurs in terracotta plaque Sanskrit-brāhmī in Ratnagiri and Lalitagiri from 5th century CE onwards, in stone slab and terracotta plaques in Udayagiri and on the backslabs of the numerous Buddhist images from 8th century CE onwards at all sites. One notable exception in the placement of ye dharma is found in Lalitagiri monolithic stupa where the formula occurs underneath the base of the stupa. However, a fragmentary stone slab inscription found near the caityagṛha from Lalitagiri in 15 lines in Siddhamātṛkā character of the 6th century CE contains the nidāna section as well and ends with the gāthā. This stone slab may have been part of a stupa, many of which are to be found in the caityagṛha complex. This is one rare stone slab which also contained both gāthā and nidāna sections and, therefore, the transcription is also produced below.

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Text 1 2 3 4 5

6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

. . . . . . . . . pratyaya . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ru(rū)pa- pratyaya [ṁ*] shaḍ-āyatanaṁ shaḍ-āya . . . . . . . .  .  . .  .  . vedanā[ṁ] pratyaya trṣṇā-pratyaṁ =upadāna[ṁ*] upādānapratyayo bhāva[ḥ] bhāva . . . . . . . . . . . . . jāti-pratyaya jarā-maraṇa-śoka-parideva-duhkha-daurmmanasyopayasah sambhavamte(ty)=ev=asya-kevalasya maha[to] [duh]kha-skandhasya samudayo bhavati[|*] bhavati [|*] .  .  . . . ayaṁ=ucyate dharmmānām=achayah .  .  . .  .  . nirodha .  .  . . nte .  .  . . niucyate sa ṁskāra-ni[rodha] . . . . rodhah vipake nirodhan=nāma-rūpa-nirodhaḥ nāma-rūpa-nirodhāt= shaḍāyatana-[nirodha][ ḥ*] [shaḍ-āya-*] tana-nirodhād=vedanā-nirodhaḥ vedanā-nirodhaḥ= tr ṣṇā-nirodhaḥ trṣṇā-nirodhād=upādāna-nirodha[ḥ*] . . . . . . . parideva-nirodhāt=bhāva-nirodhaḥ bhāva-nirodhād=jāti-nirodha[h*] jāti-nirodhāt=jarā-maraṇa-śoka-[pari]deva-duhkha-daurmmanasy-opayasa[í*] nirudhyante[||*] Evaṁ=asya kevalasya ma[ha*]to . . . . . . . . . . . nirodḥo bhavati[|*] Ayaṁ=ucyate . . . . . rūpe ṇa . . . . opādāna . . . . ra . . . ta . . . . pari . . . . d-gatya . . . . . ro . . . dharma . . . vi . . . . na-katama . . . . atra . . . . Ye dharmma hetu prabhava(ā) . . . . he. . . . to hyāvadat-tesañ=ca yo nirodho evam(ṁ)-vādī Mahāśramaṇa . . . . . . . . . . . ri . . . . devo . . . . tayām-avasya . . . . . ma . . . api . . . . bhavi ṣya . . . . tañ=ca . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . jaya(?)17

Terracotta plaques containing pratītyasamutpādasūtra with stupa in the centre, or terracotta stupa with pratityasamutpādasūtra written on it became quite widespread in the Indian Ocean region from the Malaya world to the Buddhist sites of Bodh Gaya, Ratnagiri, Lalitagiri, Udayagiri and elsewhere. In the Saṁyutta-Nikāya III, 120, the Buddha states: “He who sees the dhamma, Vakkajii, sees me; he who sees me, sees the dhamma.” In the 3rd century Śālistamba Sūtra, Bodhisattva Maitreya says to Śarīputra: “He, monks, who sees the pratityasamutpāda sees the dharma; he who sees the dharma sees the Buddha.” Then, he puts this equation as follows: How does one see the Pratītyasamutpāda there (i.e., in this verse)? The Blessed One has spoken on this matter: “He who sees this Pratītyasamutpāda, which is eternal, (lifeless), without the life-essence, as it should be, auspicious, unborn, not become, unmade, uncompounded, unobstructed, unsupported, propitious, fearless, unseizable, undecaying, with unending

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self-nature – he sees the dharma. And he who likewise sees the dharma, which is eternal, [lifeless], without life-essence . . . and with unending selfnature, he sees the Buddha, whose body is the most excellent dharma, by attaining through right knowledge to the direct understanding of the noble dharma.”18 As has been noted earlier, the Kurram casket contains the first archaeological evidence of pratītyasamutpādasūtra. The Buddha’s spirit is not only exemplified in śārīrika presence but in his dharma and therefore many stupa practices started incorporating both. The Kurram Casket inscription states this: Anno, 20, the 20. day of the month Avadunaka, at this instant Śvedavarman, the son of Yasa, deposits a relic of the Adorable Śākyamuni in the relic stupa (erected by King M . . .) the property of the Sarvastivāda teachers – as it has been said by the Adorable one: contingent on ignorance (are) the forces, contingent on the forces perception, contingent on perception name and form, contingent on name and form the six senses, contingent on the six senses contact, contingent on contact sensation, contingent on sensation thirst, contingent on thirst grasping, contingent on grasping existence, contingent on existence birth, contingent on birth age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, downcastness and despair. Such is the origin of this entire mass of misery – in honour of all beings. And this contingent origination [paticasamupada (sic) has been written by Mahiphātika in honour of all beings.19 Similar finds include the Devnimori relic casket inscriptions, the Kasia copper plate, as well as instances of the pratītyasamutpādasūtra engraved on the base of miniature stupas at Dunhuang, in gold foil inside stupa or on stone plaque or engraving in maritime Southeast Asia and elsewhere. Further, clay tablets with this sūtra have been found at Kasia, Sarnath, Bodh Gaya, Lauriya-Nandangarh, Nalanda, Valabhi and Mainamati. In Odisha, such terracotta clay tablets with pratītyasamutpādasūtra are found from Ratnagiri, Udayagiri, Lalitagiri and elsewhere. Xuanzang also talks about the practice in Bodh Gaya.20 In Mahāyāna and Vajrayāna the concept of śūnyatā is identified with pratītyasamutpādasūtra. The Mādhyamikakārika identifies pratityasamutpādasūtra with śūnyatā thus: That which is the pratītyasamutpāda, we call it emptiness. This (śūnyatā) is a provisional term; it is indeed the middle path. In the trikāyā system of Mahāyāna and Vajrayāna, it is considered to the dharmakāyā of Buddha.21

From dharmadhaˉtu to dharmakaˉ yaˉ : Buddha image in the Bodhiman∙d ∙ a with pratıˉ tyasamutpaˉ da inscribed on it In the later period starting with 8th century CE, the Buddhist sites of the Diamond Triangle abound with evidence of pratītyasamutpādasūtra inscribed

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on the backslab or on the pedestal of Buddha and Buddhist divinities. The dharma formula became the true body (dharmakāyā) of Buddha. The early Mahayana Sūtras literature refers to trikāyā of Buddha – nirmāṇa kāyā (emanated body), sambhoga kāyā (enjoyment body) and dharma-kāyā (true essence body). The enjoyment body (sambhoga kāyā), is described as the form of a youthful prince adorned with the 32 major marks and 80 minor marks of a superman. The former include patterns of a wheel on the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet, elongated earlobes, a crown protrusion (usṇiṣa) on the top of his head, a circle of hair (urṇa) between his brows, flat feet and webbed fingers. The dharmakāyā is the Pure Essence body of the Buddha. In Ratnagiri, Udayagiri and Lalitagiri, one finds the Buddha image in bhūmisparśa-mudrā flanked by two Bodhisattvas with the pratītyasamut pādasūtra inscribed on terracotta plaques or in Lalitagiri, we have astabodhisattvas with inscription of pratītyasamutpādasūtra written on it (Figure 10.5). These images represent dharmakāyā of the Buddha. Small terracotta plaques of the Buddha with two Bodhisattvas flanking the former with pratītyasamutpādasūtra being inscribed below the pedestal have been found from Ratnagiri stupa indicates that they were deposited in the stupas. The Buddhist monk I-tsing in 710 CE testifies the existence of this practice when he states: If men, women, or the five groups of mendicants would build an image of the Buddha; or if those without strength would deposit one as large as a grain of barley; or build a stupa – its body the size of a jujube, its

Figure 10.5 Buddha Flanked by Two Bodhisattvas with Pratītyasamutpāda Below the Viswapadma Found from Stūpas, Indicating Its Deposit During Consecration of Stūpa, Ratnagiri, 8th Century CE Source: Courtesy of the author.

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mast the size of a needle, its parasol equal to a flake of bran, its relic like a mustard seed, or if someone writes the dharma-verse and installs it inside the stupa, it would be like doing homage by offering up a rare jewel. If in accordance with one’s own strength and ability one can be truly sincere and respectful, it [the image or stupa] would be like my actual body, equal without any difference.22

Dhaˉ ran∙ˉı inside stupas The third phase starting from 8th century CE was marked by major developments in the religious landscape of Udayagiri. The apsidal, followed by the rectangular caityagṛha area of phase 2 saw the construction of a lion pedestal south of the main stupa. Further the entire area was enclosed by a brick wall. Simultaneously, the Udayagiri 1 area developed on the northern part of the site during this period. There are a number of stupas in the caityagṛha complex which contained stone slabs with pratītyasamutpādasūtra or other dhāraṇī inscribed and put inside the stupas during their consecration. The exact time when the Gāthā was used as a dhāraṇī in Odisha is not known but both Gāthā combined with a dhāraṇī began to appear from 7th century CE. Dhāraṇī are texts containing mantras, and texts from several Mahayana sutras prescribe depositing the same inside the stupa. For example, the Gūhyadhātu23 states: Wherever this text (dharmaparyāya) resides, a hundred thousand, ten million, as many as there are sesame seeds, Tathāgatas reside; bodily relics of inexplicable numbers of Tathāgatas reside; the eighty-four thousand heaps of dharma reside. Thus, the dhāraṇī is equated with both body relic and dharma relic together. In another place the Guhyadhātu states further that this dhāraṇī must be put inside a stupa. The Blessed One said: Vajrapani, if someone were to write this text and place it inside a stupa, (that stupa) would become a stupa of the relics of the vajra essence of all Tathāgatas. It would become a stupa blessed by the secret essence of the dhāraṇī of all Tathāgatas. It would become a stupa of ninety-nine times as many as there are sesame seeds Tathāgatas. It would be blessed as the stupa of the uṣnisa and eye of all Tathāgatas. If someone were to insert it into any image or stupa of the Buddha, (that) image of the Tathāgatas would be blessed as if it were made of the seven precious substances. The Vimaloṣṇīṣa text says: If someone were to make one hundred and eight stupas, write this hṛdaya of the vidyāmantra, insert it in the stupa(s), and place (them) on

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Another Mahāyāna dhāraṇī sūtra, the Raśmīvimala states the benefit of insertion of dhāraṇī inside stupa during the consecration of the latter, If any noble son were to write this secret mantra diligently ninety-nine times, were to place it on the four sides of the stupa-pole (yaṣṭi) and were to write, as well, the very book of this ritual and place it within the stupa-pole; if he were to perform such a ritual it would be as if he has established a stupa pole for ninety-nine thousand stupas. Furthermore, it would be as if he has established ninety-nine thousand stupas containing relics. The text also invokes the mortuary context of such dhāraṇī in a stupa when it states that if someone were to write this dhāraṇī in the name of a deceased and were to deposit in a stupa and earnestly worship it, then the deceased, being freed from his unfortunate destiny, would be reborn in heaven. This also occurs in other Tibetan texts such as the Bodhigarbha. Many stupas in Lalitagiri, Udayagiri, Ratnagiri, Paharpur, Abhayagiri have revealed various dhāraṇīs. The epigraphic record from Odisha also attests that merit accrual from depositing these dhāraṇīs is almost similar to what has been mentioned in various texts. The merit accrued out of inserting dhāraṇīs inside stupas is mentioned in one dhāraṇī stone slab inscription found long ago in Odisha, which is now in the Orissa State Museum (OSM).25 Lines 9–17 (which is part II of the stone slab inscription) describe the merit of such action. Whichever person, (be he) a monk, or a nun or a male lay worshipper or a female lay-worshipper or any son of a noble family or a daughter of a noble family having faith, constructs a caitya after having written this dhāraṇī and thrown it inside – by the construction of that single caitya, a lakh of Tathāgata-caitya will have been constructed by him. Those caityas are worshipped with the accessories of all perfumes, flowers, incenses, powders, chowries, umbrellas, flags, banners, etc. Not only a caitya, but the Jewel of Buddha, Dharma and Samgha are worshipped with such accessories. Part 1 (obverse) of the stone slab inscription at OSM is the dhāraṇī portion while the second part (reverse) deals with merit accrued from the practice of the insertion of dhāraṇī inside the stupas. The same dhāraṇī is found from the stupa 2 and 253 of Ratnagiri as well as in the form of terracotta plaques and stone slab No. 30 from Udayagiri II (Figure 10.6).

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Figure 10.6 Bodhigarbhālankāralakṣa Dhāraṇī from Udayagiri II caityagṛha Complex Area Source: Courtesy of the author.

There are a few fragmentary stone slab inscriptions of the same dhāraṇī in Lalitagiri. Stone slab inscription No. 30 (plate CLXII of Udayagiri II) in 13 lines, circa 9th–10th century CE26 contains the same dhāraṇī which is in OSM. Schopen has referred to a similar dhāraṇī being found from the Abhayagiri monastery of Sri Lanka and identified the dhāraṇī as the Bodhigarbhālankāralakṣa Dhāraṇī (Dhāraṇī of the Hundred Thousand Ornaments of the Essence of Awakening).27 He cites the Tibetan version and Sanskrit translation. The same dhāraṇī was found from Nalanda, Paharpur and Bodh Gaya as well. Further, it may be mentioned that the text entered China and became known in the Taishō Tripiṭaka (1369b) as the Dhāraṇī Sūtra of the Hundred Thousand Seals. The text was translated from Sanskrit into Chinese by Sikṣhānanda during the Tang Dynasty. Three other varieties of dhāraṇī have been found from the Buddhist sites of Odisha. One is identified by Tanaka as the Sarvatathāgatādhiṣṭhāna-hṛdaya-guhya-dhatū-karaṇḍamudrā-nāma-dhāraṇī and other could be identified as vimaloṣinisadhāraṇī and possibly Cunda dhāraṇī.28

Stupa as a man∙ d∙ ala A maṇḍala stupa and a monastery developed in 8th–9th century CE on a high platform in Udayagiri 1 area. The Udayagiri 2 area also saw construction of

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a shrine chamber to the north-west of Monastery 2, as well as further expansion of the monastery. The brick stupa in the Udayagiri 1 area was modelled on garbhadhātumaṇḍala of the Mahāvairocana Sūtra. Along with this stupa containing four Buddhas flanked by two Bodhisattvas each, another monastery, called Mādhavapura monastery, developed during the third phase of the construction activity. Unlike stupa (STR-60) which saw a lot of structural activities throughout history, this stupa seems to have restricted access to the public as the area did have very limited evidence of other structural and votive stupas. The naming of a new vihāra within a single sacred complex is quite significant. What prompted the religious ideologues of Udayagiri to distinguish Udayagiri 1 from the earlier Udayagiri 2 area? In my view, this new area was moulded on the basis of new ideology of caryā and Yogatantra based on the Mahāvairocana Sūtra and Sarvatathāgatatattvasaṁgraha. The evidence of garbhadhātū maṇḍala alignment of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas in the high platform stupa, Vairocana image as a universal emperor with kirīṭa mukuṭa near monastery 1 Gandhakuṭī doorframe, Vairocana maṇḍala sculpture all attest to the new ideologies of the monastics of Udayagiri. Before exploring the possible causes of these new ideologies, it is pertinent to describe the Mahastupa of Udayagiri and its iconographic programme. The development of maṇḍala29 based religious and iconographic programmes constitutes an important element in the Buddhistscape of maritime Asia. Starting from the 7th century CE, esoteric Buddhism in maritime Asia began to develop the iconographic programmes in stupas based on maṇḍala theme in which Pañca-tathāgatas, Bodhisattvas and other divinities were shown in particular alignments.30 The circulation of esoteric Buddhist practices in maritime Asia up to China and Japan, of which the Buddhist maṇḍala was a part, was a defining feature of maritime Asia. Two early important texts which formed the basis of the Buddhist maṇḍalas and esoteric Buddhism in India (7th–8th century CE), China and Japan were the Mahāvairocana-sūtra (MVS) and Sarvatathāgatatattvasaṁgraha (STTS). Kūkai (774–835 CE), who founded the Shingon Buddhism in Japan, acknowledges the importance of these twin texts when he writes that the esoteric Shingon doctrine, the secret treasury given in the two sūtras, is unfolded by the Dharmakāya Mahāvairocana Buddha for the sake of his own enjoyment.31 In Kūkai’s writing, it is clear that the twin maṇḍalas are complementary systems with the same main object of worship, i.e. Vairocana.32 In the MVS, Vairocana is represented as Abhisaṁbodhi (just enlightened) whereas in the STTS, Vairocana is considered as sarvavid (omniscient). The MVS is a seminal work in the history of Tantric Buddhism, offering one of the first fully developed expositions of this form of Buddhism. In India and Tibet it came to be classified as a Caryā Tantra, or ‘Practice Tantra,’ corresponding to the second category of what was to become in Tibet the standard fourfold classification of Buddhist tantras, only to be eventually superseded to a large degree by the STTS in the 8th century CE. It was also a mūla-tantra text, composed in the 7th century CE and consolidated over time into a Yoga-tantra text.

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The STTS does not explain the concepts; rather it is concerned with the manuals of the maṇḍala rites: how to draw maṇḍalas, initiation into these maṇḍalas (abhiṣeka) and the powers resulting from the performance of these ritual-actions.33 There is also evidence of presence of possible garbhadhātū maṇḍala in the Buddhist sites of Odisha from the 8th century CE. Text from the Mahāvairocana-sūtra, a Caryā tantra, appears for the first time in India on the backslab of the khondalite image of the Abhisaṁbodhi Vairocana from Lalitagiri, which reads thus (Figure 10.7): Line 1: namaḥ samāntabuddhānāṁ a vira Line 2: huṁ khaṁ. This mantra appears in chapter six of the Mahāvairocana-sūtra.34In the next century (c. 8th century CE) numerous images of freestanding Bodhisattvas and standing Buddhas from Lalitagiri, Udayagiri and Ratnagiri were enshrined in the sacred complexes with two, four or eight Bodhisattavas forming part of a Buddhist maṇḍala.35 One such alignment of stupa maṇḍala is the Mahāstupa of Udayagiri.

Figure 10.7 Abhisaṁbodhi Vairocana from the Mahāvairocanasūtra on his backslab, Lalitagiri, 7th Century CE Source: Courtesy of the author.

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The other evidence of garbhadhātu maṇḍala comes from the stupa of Udayagiri 1 area. Excavation of this area in 1986 revealed a maṇḍala stupa with four Buddhas in four cardinal directions flanked by two bodhisattvas each. The Udayagiri Mahastupa (dated to 10th century CE) has been identified as a garbhadhātu maṇḍala-stupa by Donaldson. In the outer niches of the Udayagiri stupa four Tathāgata Buddhas have been represented. They have been identified as Vairocana in the north flanked by Mañjuśrī on the right and Kṣitigarbha on left (he holds a kalaśa with a kalpavṛkṣa on it), Akṣobhya facing east is flanked by Maitreya in the dexter and Sarvanivaraṇaviṣkambhin on the sinister, facing west is Amitābha flanked by Lokeśvara on the right and Vajrapāṇi on the left and Ratnasaṁbhava in the south is flanked on two sides by Samantabhadra on the right. This alignment of the Bodhisattvas closely corresponds to the garbhadhātu maṇḍala of the MVS. Table 10.1 represents the iconographic alignments of the Tathāgatas and Bodhisattvas in the Udayagiri stupa near Monastery 1.

Dhaˉ ran∙ˉı and man∙d∙ala: possible connection with royal protection The association of various maṇḍala stupa, such as at Paharpur (Somapura vihāra) with Dharamapala, Mendut, Sewu and Borobudbur with Sailendra kings also brings to fore the connection between tantricism and royalty. Alexis Sanderson argues that Buddhist tantricism, including maṇḍala rituals were believed to have provided protection to royalty. Like Śaiva ācāryas performing rituals for the royalty to avert danger and attain glory, Tibetan monk Lāmā Tāranātha refers to the performance of such rituals for the protection of the state at Vikramaśīlā under the direction of Buddhajñānapāda during the reign of Dharmapāla (775–812 CE) to ensure the longevity of the Pāla dynasty. Monk Buddhajñānapāda told Dharmapāla, “there are indication of the ruins of dynasty during the rules of your grandsons. Perform the great homa so that the dynasty may last long.” Accordingly Dharmapāla got the homa performed for many years by the vajradharas with acārya Buddhajñāna as their chief and offered during this, articles worth nine lakhs and two thousand tolas of silver. He predicted: “twelve of your successors will be kings and up to your fifth descendants in particular, many countries will be under their rule and the Law will be extensively spread.”36 Alexis Sanderson’s Śaiva Age 37 quotes Mañjūśrīmūlakalpa and Durgati pariśodhana Tantra referring to the initiation of royalty to maṇḍala rituals, which is similar to maṇḍala initiation in the Śaiva system. It is pertinent to note that one dhāraṇī Bodhigarbhālankāralakṣa Dhāraṇī (Dhāraṇī of the Hundred Thousand Ornaments of the Essence of Awakening) found from Udayagiri II caityagṛha area, contains the name of Śubhākaradeva, who can

Table 10.1 Alignment of Buddhas and Bodhisattva in the Stupa of Udayagiri, Odisha 9th–10th Century, Modelled on garbhadhātu maṇḍala Buddhas Vairocana Tathāgata is flanked by Mañjuśrī on the right and Kṣitigarbha on the left

Amitābha Tathāgata is flanked by Avalokiteśvra on the right and Vajrapāṇi on the left

Ratnasaṁbhava (south) flanked by Samantabhadra and Ākāśagarbha

Tathāgata Akṣobhya is flanked by Maitreya on the right and Sarvanivaraṇa viṣkambhin on the left.

Photos

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be identified with the Bhaumakara king of the same name, who was a devout worshipper of Buddhism. Was the insertion of his name as part of dhāraṇī during the consecration of the stupa in the Simhaprasta caityagṛha complex an attempt by the Bhaumakara king for protection and gaining merit? The Mantrayāna also devised tantric ceremonies for patrons to be performed in the public domain, such as the consecration of temple images, and painting of deities on cloth (paṭṭah), manuscripts of sacred texts, monasteries, shrines, caityas, reservoirs, gardens and the like. Sanderson locates this increasing favour of esoteric masters in royal courts of Bhaumakaras, Pālas, Pallavas, King Aggabodhi and Sena in Sri Lanka, Śailendra court in Java, Tāng court in China as a result of protection, prosperity, subjugation and pacification rituals that esotericism provided to the kings. Shomu (724–49 CE) commissioned the installation of a gilt image of Vairocana at Todaji temple at Nara whose rays would help save the body polity.38 Empress Hu (reign period 684–705 CE) commissioned a statue of Vairocana at Feng-xian temple at Longmen in 672 CE. Sundberg argues that the inscribed gold foil mantra oṁ ṭakī hūṁ jaḥ svāhā, found from Ratu Boko monastery in central Java aimed at providing power to Panaraban.39

Conclusion The chapter highlights the fact that a study of the material remains and the cultural landscape provides evidence for the simultaneous presence of monastics subscribing to varied philosophical tenets at the site of Udayagiri. Monastics of Udayagiri continued to practice the worship of śārīrika and dharma stupas alongside maṇḍala form of stupa in the Vajrayāna period in the site of Udayagiri. The simultaneous presence of different ritual practices in the same temporal and spatial place belies the impression of sequential development as has been constructed on the basis of texts alone. This is also borne from numerous texts as well. The Tattvratnāvali section of 10th century CE text Adavayavajrasamgraha conceives Baudha dharma as ekayāna consisting of numerous strands. Similarly, Tāranātha’s accounts refer to many monks who were experts in Theravāda, Mahāyāna and Vajrayāna texts and practices. Amidst the presence of different ideologies in the practices of stupa worship, certain areas in the sacred complex emerged as areas of attraction and here the caityagṛha area emerged as the favoured area of consecration of stupas in Udayagiri and Lalitagiri while the Mahāstupa area emerged as an area of attraction for the same in Ratnagiri.

Notes 1 The Mahāparinibbānna Sutta is the 16th Suttānta of the Digha Nikāya. It has six chapters. There are many versions of the text in Pāli, Chinese and Tibetan. The Chinese versions are Sanskrit translations. There is another Mahaparinirvana sūtra of Mahayana tradition which is an exposition of the Tathagatagarbha and

Continuity and change in the sacred landscape

2 3

4 5

253

has nothing to do with the narrative of the last days of Buddha. Rhys Davids analysed the evolution of Pāli canon and believes that that only one-third of this text of the Pāli is not found elsewhere in the Pāli canon. Scholars believe that Chapter 5 of this Sutta deals with pilgrimage to four sites and construction of stupas while Chapter 6 deals with division of relic. Mahaparinibānna Sutta in Dialogues of Buddha, pt.2, Sacred Books of the Buddhists (SBB), vol.3, tr. and ed. T. W. Rhys Davids, London: Oxford University Press, 1910, pp. 71–191. Gregory Schopen, ‘Burial Ad sanctos and the Physical Presence of the Buddha in Early Indian Buddhism’, Religion, 1987, 17: 193–225. Khuddaka Pāṭha is considered to be a late addition to the Khuddaka Nikāya. This Nikāya of the Theravāda school is the only complete extant example of such Nikāya, while some of the other schools that included a Khuddaka in their canons were the Mahisasaka, Dharmaguptaka and Mahasanghika. See Akira Hirakawa, A History of Indian Buddhism, trans. and ed. Paul Groner, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1993, p. 128. For Khuddaka Pāṭha, see Oskar von Hinüber, A Handbook of Pāli Literature, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2000. Dialogues of Buddha, pt.2, pp. 153–4. Debala Mitra, the excavator of Ratnagiri, reports the jostling of many stūpas to ‘find a touch’ with the Mahāstūpa of Ratnagiri. The sacred deposits within the structural stupas are both varied and interesting. Some of these stūpas are śārīrika (corporeal) in the true sense of the term as they yielded corporeal relics in the form of partially charred bones, probably of monks and dignitaries of the Saṁgha. (stupa 3, 4, 23, 24, 25, 116 near the Mahāstupa). The reliquaries are very plain or is in the form of earthen vases as in the stūpa 24, 25 and 115.

6 7

8 9 10 11 12

13 14

Debala Mitra, Ratnagiri (1958–61), Memoirs of the Archaeological Survey of India, no. 80, vol. 1, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1981, p. 28. Mahāvagga, 1st Khandaka in T. W. Rhys Davids and Hermann Oldenberg (trans.),Vinaya Texts, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1881, p. 81. John Strong has examined the legend of construction of 84,000 stupas by Aśoka in Jambudvīpa in Southeast Asia and China, and dealt with the geographical boundary of Jambudvīpa as well in addition to the analysis of the significance of this legend. John Strong, Relics of the Buddha, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 2007, pp. 124–47. S. Beal, Si- Yu-ki or Buddhist Records of the Western World, London: Kegan Paul, 1958, p. 204. R. L. Mitra, Antiquities of Odisha, vol.1, Calcutta: Past and Present, 1875, p. 69; Archaeological Survey of India, Annual Report (ASIAR), vol. 13, 1883: 9. P. K. Trivedi, Further Excavations at Udayagiri-2, Orissa,2001–03, Memoirs of the Archaeological Survey of India, MASI, No. 104., New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 2012, pp. 16–18. J. Patnaik, Excavations at Lalitagiri, (1985–91), Memoirs of the Archaeological Survey of India, No. 112, New Delhi: ASI, 2017, pp. 44–5. The uddeśika-cetiyas, the Kalingabodhi Jātaka says, are lacking a foundation (avatthuka) by virtue of their being a matter of mind only (manamāttakena). E. B. Cowell, The Jatakas, vol.4, London: Luzac & Co., 1895–1907 [1957], p. 42. The Buddha image found from Lalitagiri caityagṛha stūpa can be considered as an uddeśika-cetiya. Indian Archaeology: A Review Hence [IAR]-1987–88, pp. 89–90. For dharma dhātus of Buddhism, including Pratītyasamutpāda and Prajñāpāramitā sūtra have been dealt by H.P. Ray, Archaeology and Buddhism in South Asia, New Delhi: Routledge, 2018, pp. 22–64.

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15 Debala Mitra, the excavator of site found Pratītyasamutpāda in terracotta plaques which are written in the Gupta character, Mitra, Antiquities of Odisha, vol. 1, pp. 29–30. 16 The rough translation of the Gāthā of the Pratītyasamutpāda is as follows: “Of those phenomena which arise from causes: Those causes have been taught by the Tathāgata (Buddha), and their cessation too – thus proclaims the Great Ascetic.” 17 The last two lines cannot be read satisfactorily. 18 N. R. Reat, The Śālistamba sūtra: Tibetan Original, Sanskrit Reconstruction, English Translation, Critical Notes (Including Pali Parallels, Chinese Version, and Ancient Tibetan Fragments), New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1993. 19 S. Konow, Corpus Inscriptionum Indicarum, vol. 2, pt. 1, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1929, pp. 152–5; V. Natesa Aiyar, ‘An Inscribed Relic Casket from Kurram’, Epigraphia Indica, 1925–26, 18: 16–20. 20 Beal, Si- Yu-ki or Buddhist Records of the Western World, vol. 2, p. 115. 21 Louis de La Vallee Poussin, Bouddhisme, Etudes et Materiaux: Theorie des Douze Causes, Gand: Luzac & Co., 1913, p. 69. 22 J. Takakusu (trans.), A Record of the Buddhist Religion as Practised in India and Malay Archipelago (671–695) by I-Tsing, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1966, pp. 150–1. 23 The full name of this sūtra is Sarvatathāgatādhiṣthānahṛdaya-gūhya-dhātu-karaṇḍamudrā-nāma-dharani-mahāyānasūtra , D. Boucher, ‘The Pratītyasamut pādagāthā and Its Role in the Medieval Cult of the Relics’, The Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, 1991, 14(1): 1–27. 24 Prema Dorjee, Stupa and Its Technology, New Delhi: IGNCA & Motilal Banarsidass, 2001, pp. 8–9. 25 A. Ghosh, ‘A Buddhist Tract in a Stone Inscription in the Cuttack Museum’, Epigraphia Indica, 1941, 26: 171–4. 26 Trivedi, Further Excavations at Udayagiri-2, Orissa, 2001–03, p. 255. 27 G. Schopen, Figments and Fragments of Mahāyāna Buddhism in India, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2005, p. 351. 28 U. Mishra, ‘Dharanas from the Buddhist Sites of Odisha’, Parastatal, 2016, 22: 73–84. 29 Maṇḍala involves meditative visualization of host of supernormal beings in particular geometrical arrangements (Skt. maṇḍala) for the purpose of mundane and soteriological goals (Skt. siddhi). 30 Examples of maṇḍala stūpa are found from Paharpur (Somapura) Mainamati, Vikramaśilā, Udayagiri, Keśariyā in the Indian subcontinent and Borobodur, Candi Mendut, Candi Sewu in central Java and from the Tāng period in China. 31 Y.S. Hakeda, Kūkai: Major Works Translated with an Account of His Life and a Study of His Thought, New York: Columbia University Press,1972, p. 224. 32 I. Sinclair, ‘Coronation and Liberation According to a Javanese Monk in China: Bianhong’s Manual on the Abhiṣeka of a cakravartin’, in Andrea Acri (ed.),Esoteric Buddhism in Medieaval Maritime Asia, Networks of Masters, Texts and Icons, Singapore: ISEAS, 2016, pp. 30–66. 33 As a seminal Yoga-tantra text, Sarvatathāgatatattvasaṁgraha has been subject to many scholarly works. S. N. Weinberger, ‘The Significance of Yoga Tantra and the Compendium of Principles Tattvasaṁgraha Tantra within Tantric Buddhism in India and Tibet’, Unpublished PhD Dissertation, University of Virginia, Virginia, 2003. 34 The section states, “Then the World-honoured One Vairocana further dwelled in the samādhi ‘Adamantine Play which Vanquishes the Four Demons and uttered words of adamantine syllables for vanquishing the four demons, liberating the six destinies, and satisfying the knowledge of an omniscient one: Namaḥ samantabuddhānāṃ, āḥ vira hūṁ khaṁ” (Homage to all Buddhas! Āḥ vira hūṁ

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35 36 37

38

39

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khaṁ). R. W. Giebel, The Vairocanābhisaṁbodhi sūtra, trans. from the Chinese Taishō, vol. 18, no. 848, Berkley: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research, 2005, p. 80. T. E. Donaldson, Iconography of the Buddhist Sculptures of Orissa, 2 vols. New Delhi: IGNCA and Aryan Books, 2001. Tāranātha’s History of Buddhism in India, trans. Lama Chimpa and Alaka Chattopadhyaya, ed. D. P. Chattopadhyaya, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1970, pp. 275–6. Alexis Sanderson, ‘The Śaiva Age: The Rise and Dominance of Saivism during Ed: The Early Medieval Period’, in Shingo Einoo (ed.), Genesis and Development of Tantrism, Institute of Oriental Culture and University of Tokyo, 2009, pp. 41–349, 124–5. In his announcement regarding the construction of the gigantic Vairocana image, the Emperor Shomu said, “The benefits of peace may be brought to all in heaven and earth, even animals and plants sharing in its fruits, for all time to come.” See, Theodore De Bary, Donald Keene, George Tanabe and Paul Varley (eds.), Sources of Japanese Tradition from Earliest Times to 1600, vol. 1, 2nd edn, New York: Columbia University, 2001, p. 114. J. Sundberg, ‘A Buddhist Mantra Recovered from the Ratubaka Plateau’, Bijdragen tot de taal- and-en volkenkunde, 2003, 159: 163–88; Acri 2016, pp. 324–48.

References Acri, A. (ed.), Esoteric Buddhism in Mediaeval Maritime Asia, Networks of Masters, Texts and Icons, Singapore: ISEAS, 2016. Aiyar, V. Natesa, ‘An Inscribed Relic Casket from Kurram’, Epigraphia Indica, 1925– 26,18: 16–20. Bandyopadhyay, B., Excavations at Udayagiri-2. 1997–2000, MASI 100, Delhi: ASI, 2007. Beal, S., Si- Yu-ki or Buddhist Records of the Western World, London: Kegan Paul, 1958 reprint. Boucher, D., ‘The Pratityasamutpadagatha and Its Role in the Medieval Cult of the Relics’, The Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, 1991, 14(1): 1–28. Cowell, E. B., The Jatakas, London: Luzac & Co., 1957. Donaldson, T. E., Iconography of the Buddhist Sculptures of Orissa, 2 vols. New Delhi: IGNCA and Aryan Book, 2001. Dorjee, Prema, Stupa and Its Technology, New Delhi: IGNCA & Motilal Banarsidass, 2001. Ghosh, A., ‘A Buddhist Tract in a Stone Inscription in the Cuttack Museum’, Epigraphia Indica, 1941,26: 171–4. Giebel, R. W., The Vairocanābhisaṁbodhi sūtra, trans. from the Chinese Taishō, vol. 18,no. 848, Berkley: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research, 2005. Griffiths, Arlo, ‘Written Traces of the Buddhist Past: The Mantras and dhāraṇīs in Indonesian Inscriptions’, Bulletin of the School of the Oriental and African Studies, 2014, 77: 137–94. Konow, S., Corpus Inscriptionum Indicarum, vol. 2, pt. 1, Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1929, pp. 152–5. Mahaparinibbana Sutta, ‘Mahaparinibbana Sutta’, in T. W. Rhys Davids (trans.), Dialogues of Buddha, pt. 2, London: Oxford University Press, 1921.

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Mahāvāgga in Vinaya Texts, trans. from the Pāli by T. W. Rhys Davids and Hermann Oldenberg, Sacred Book ofthe East, vol. 13, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1881. Majjhima-Nikaya, vol. 1, ed. I. H. Horner, London: Pali Text Society, 1958. Mishra, U., Vajrayāna Buddhism: Study in Social Iconography, New Delhi: Pratibha Prakashan, 2009. ———, ‘Dhāraṇīs from the Buddhist Sites of Odisha’, Pratnatattva, 2016, 73–84. Mitra, Debala, Ratnagiri (1958–61), 2 vols, MASI, No. 80, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 1981–83. Mitra, R. L., The Antiquities of Orissa, 2 vols, Calcutta: Past and Present, 1875: reprint 1963. Nagarjuna’s, Mulamādhyamakakarikds, ed. L. de La Vallee Poussin, St. Petersburg, 1913, pp. 6 and 160. Patnaik, J., Excavations at Lalitagiri, (1985–91), Memoirs of the Archaeological Survey of India, No. 112, New Delhi: ASI, 2017. Ray, Himanshu Prabha, Archaeology and Buddhism in South Asia, London and New York: Routledge, 2018. Reat, N. R., The Śālistamba sūtra: Tibetan Original, Sanskrit Reconstruction, English Translation, Critical Notes (Including Pali Parallels, Chinese Version, and Ancient Tibetan Fragments), New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1993. Sanderson, Alexis, ‘The Śaiva Age: The Rise and Dominance of Saivism during Ed: The Early Medieval Period’, in Shingo Einoo (ed.), Genesis and Development of Tantrism, Institute of Oriental Culture and University of Tokyo, 2009, pp. 41–349. Schopen, Gregory, ‘Burial Ad sanctos and the Physical Presence of the Buddha in Early Indian Buddhism’, Religion, 1987, 17: 193–225. ———, Figments and Fragments of Mahāyāna Buddhism in India, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2005. Sinclair, I., ‘Coronation and Liberation According to a Javanese Monk in China: Bianhong’s Manual on the Abhiṣeka of a cakravartin’, in Andrea Acri (ed.), Esoteric Buddhism in Medieaval Maritime Asia, Networks of Masters, Texts and Icons, Singapore: ISEAS, 2016, pp. 30–66. Skilling, Peter, ‘Traces of the Dharma: Preliminary Reports on Some ye dhammā and yedharmā Inscriptions from Mainland South-East Asia’, BEFEO, 2003–04, 90–91: 273–87. Sundberg, J., ‘A Buddhist Mantra Recovered from the Ratubaka Plateau’, Bijdragen tot de taal- and-en volkenkunde, 2003, 159: 163–88. Tāranātha’s History of Buddhism in India, trans. Lama Chimpa and Alaka Chattopadhyaya, ed. D. P. Chattopadhyaya, New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1970, pp. 275–6. Todaro, D. A., ‘An Annotated Translation of the Tattvasaṁgraha Part I. with an Explanation of the Role of the Tattvasaṁgraha Lineage in the Teachings of Kukai’, Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Columbia University, 1985. Trivedi, P. K., Further Excavations at Udayagiri-2, Orissa,2001–03, Memoirs of the Archaeological Survey of India, MASI, No. 104, New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 2011. Weinberger, S. N., ‘The Significance of Yoga Tantra and the Compendium of Principles Tattvasaṁgraha Tantra within Tantric Buddhism in India and Tibet’, Unpublished PhD Dissertation, University of Virginia, 2003. Yamamoto, C., Mahāvairocana-sūtra,trans. Śata Piṭaka, Series 359, New Delhi: International Academy of Indian Culture, 1990.

Index

Abbasids (750–1258 CE) 36–37 Abhinandan-bhatara, teaching lineage of 104 Achaemenid Empire 14 Act VII of 1904 201, 218, 227n63 ‘Adivaraha’ coins 143–4, 160–3, 169n34 Agata Bhabisya Malika 210, 224n42 agricultural production, feudal mode of 136 Agrippa, Marcus Vipsanius 19 Ahmed, Nisar 183 Ajjanandi 98, 101–3, 106, 110, 113–14 Aktha see Sarnath–Aktha region Alagarmalai, Jain rock-cut sites at 100–1, 107, 115; Jina image 103; Vatteluttu script 101 Alexander the Great 14, 18, 20, 29n32; invasion of the subcontinent 2, 178 al-Hind: al-Sind’s relation to 44; arrival of Muslims at 35; conceptualisation of 47–8; geographical descriptions of 38–47; growth of Muslim settlements 38; and Islamic world 43–47; network of routes of 40, 41; Perso-Arabic accounts of 35–36, 43, 45; PersoArabic literary sources on 36–37; political divisions of 42; religious customs 45; religious groups, types of 43; routes described by Bīrūnī 35–42; socio-cultural landscape of 45–47 Allan, John 182 al-Malik, Abd 155 al-Sind 42–45 Amoghavarsha, Sharva 149 Anaimalai, Jain rock-cut sites at 100–2, 115; medieval carvings 102 Anandakanan 89 Ananta Vasudeva temple 212–13, 215, 226n59

Ancient Monuments Preservation Act (AMPA, 1904) 201, 227n63; conservation/preservation and custody of monuments under 204–5; ownership and custody, definition of 213 anthropomorphic images, worship of 111 Apollodotus I, King 18 Arab Emirate 153 Arab–Muslim caliphate 44 Arcadius, Emperor 65 Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) 7, 62, 81, 117, 194nn80–1, 195n89, 200, 220n1, 221n11, 253n5, 253nn10–11, 254n19; monopolisation of sacred sites by 202 archaeology of space 3–7 Arittapatti, Jain rock-cut sites at 100–3 Arthashastra 190 art of coinage 178 ‘Aryan’ India 15 Arya samgha 209 ārypāvarta 35 Ashoka, King 28n13, 83, 88, 176, 233 Ashokan dhamma 187 Aśokāvadāna 233 Ashvamedha yajna 83 Asiatick Researches (1788) 176 Asiatic Society of Bengal 176 Asiatic Society of Bombay 159 Atharva Veda 81, 93n1 autonomous political spaces 186–7 Avantivarman, King 123, 142 ayagapatas (homage tablets) 112 ayudhajivis (warfare for living) 194n71 Bactrian coinage 178 Bahubali see Gommateshvara Balamriganka coins 145 Banavasi, cultural landscape of 1

258

Index

Barabhuji caves 203, 209, 222n25, 223n26 Barabhuji controversy 205–8 Bay of Naples 19 Begley, V. 62 Bengal Regulation Act XX of 1863 217 Bengal Regulation XIX of 1810 217 Bengal Regulation XVII of 1816 218 Bentinck, William 177 Bhabisyata Parabhda 210 Bhabisyata Purana 210, 224n41 bhakti-saints 111 Bhandarkar, D. R. 182, 193n52 Bharashiva dynasty 83 Bharashiva Nagas 83 Bharatavarsha 15 Bharat Kala Bhavan 159 Bharhut inscriptions 5 Bhaskareshvara temple 217, 226n59 bhikṣus (Buddhist monks) 124 bhog (ritual food-offering) 205–6, 215, 223n26 ‘Bhojadeva’ coins 160–1 Bhoja I, King 152 Bhubaneswar Temple Committee 211–13, 216, 218, 220, 225n52, 225n54 Bidyabinod, B. B. 182, 193n51 Bîrûnî 34, 36–42, 45–8, 49n16 Bodh Gaya 191n6, 202, 220n7, 232, 242–3, 247 Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara 153, 203 Bodhisattva Manjushri 153, 170n60 Bodhisattvas 88, 241, 244, 248–50 Book of the Conquest of the Countries, The see Kitāb Futū ḥ . al-Buldān Book of the Roads and the Realms, The see Kitāb al-masālik al-mamālik borrowing hypothesis 111–13 Bracey, Robert 72 Brahmanical dharma 187 Brahmanical notion of state 186 Brahmanical tribes 181 Brahmanism 111, 125, 177 Brahmi inscription 97 Brahmi script 156, 176, 240 British Empire 62 Brodersen, Kai 19 Buddhism 2, 5, 8n20, 45, 99, 177, 202, 220n6, 230–1, 233, 248, 252, 253n2, 253n14, 254n33; origin and growth of 87–89 Buddhist monastic order (samgha) 186 ‘Bull and Horseman’ coin 159

‘burial ad sanctos’: Mahāstupa acting as 238–41; near sacred Stupa 231–2 Burmese Pyu kingdom 146 Burnes, Alexander 177 caityagṛha complex 233–7 Campbell, George 200–1 Caŋkam era, of south Indian history 60–1 Carcassone method, for quantifying coinage 165 card-index 159 Carter method, for quantifying coinage 165 cartography, South Asian 15 Casson, Lionel 18, 29n26 Chakrabarti, Dilip K. 71n28, 189, 194n82 Chalukya kingdom 61 Champakalakshmi, R. 105, 112–13, 115n2, 116n25, 117n43, 117n55, 117n57, 118n59, 118n61 Chandra dynasty of Arakan 145–6 Charlesworth, M. 62, 71n27, 71n30 Chaterjee, Priyanath 212, 216, 218, 225n54, 225n55 Chattopadhyaya, B. D. 132n20, 186–7, 194n67, 194n70, 194nn72–3 Christianity 59 Christian monasteries 6 Christian Topography (Indicopleustes) 16, 23–4 Cohn, Bernard S. 175 coinage in India, review of 139–91; art of coinage 178; Bengal 144–7; ‘bull’-type coins 148; chief northern Indian currency 154–7; classification and 159; coins of ‘Tujhina’ and Meghavahana 140; Comylla– Mainamati 145; copper coin of Huna King Toramana 140; Eastern Chalukya coinage 150; Gandhara, Kashmir, Northern Punjab and Haryana 139–41; Gangetic plains 142–4; geo-political space and distribution of coins 185–9; gold coinage 153; of gold coin of Krishna II Shubhatunga 149; Hun coinage 139; inception of 140; Indo–Sasanian 141–3, 154–5, 163, 165–6; Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh and further South 149–53; ‘Kota-Kula’ fabric 140; of ‘later Gupta’ dynasty 143; Maharashtra and Deccan 147–9; museum collections 158–60; Pratihara currency 144, 162, 166; Rajasthan

Index and Gujarat 141–2; Satavahana ‘elephant’-type coins 151; Sindh 152–3; ‘three-dot’ coinage 152, 163; of Vishnukundin dynasty 148, 150–1 coin collection, making of 179–82 Coin Hoards of Uttar Pradesh (1980) 160 coin inscriptions 156–7 coin-issuance, notion of 189 coins in south India, economic landscape of 66 Collectanea rerum memorabilium (Solinus) 19 collective sovereignty 184 colonialism, self-legitimising ideology of 183 “coloniality of power” 174 Comylla–Mainamati coinage 145–6 Constantine I, Emperor 59, 63 Constantinople 27, 58–9 copper coins 64–5, 67, 140, 149, 174, 191 Cort, John E. 111, 115n3, 116n5, 117n48 cosmography, Hindu tradition of 14 Criminal Tribes Act (1871) 180–1 Cunningham, Alexander 2, 81, 93n5, 140–1, 169n21, 169n24, 169n28, 177–8, 182–3, 191n6, 192n19, 192nn20–2, 192nn24–5, 192n29, 192n31, 195n84, 200, 202 custodian of the monument 206 Daroji Valley 3 Das, Balaram 210 Das, Mahant Gadadhar 218 Dashasamedha 79 dassaniyāni 232 Davis, Richard 99, 116n5, 116n7 De opificio mundi (557–60 CE) 24 Desai, P. B. 106 Deshi gana 209 de-urbanisation 136–7, 168 Deva, Krishna 71n27, 81 Devalle, Susana 180, 192n38 Deva Sabha 209 Deyell, John S. 137–9, 142, 144, 158, 160–2, 166, 168n12, 169n16, 169n29, 169n35, 170n60, 171n94, 171n106 dhāraṇī: inside Stupa 245–7; and maṇḍala 250–2 dharma, concept of 15, 187 dharmashala (rest-house for pilgrims) 204

259

dhyanamudra 100 Diamond Triangle 230, 234 ‘die-identical’ coins 165 die-making, process of 165 Digambar Jaina Tirtha Kshetra Committee 205 Dow, Alexander 180 Durga Mahishasuramardini 105 dynastic coins 161 Early Medieval Society: A Study in Feudalisation (2001) 136 Eastern Chalukyas of Vengi 150 East India Company, currency system of 177 Eck, Diana 120, 122, 131n2, 132n26 Ekambaranathan, A. 107, 110–1, 114, 116n12, 116n14, 116n20, 116n24, 117n30, 117n33, 117n36, 117n40, 117n44, 117n47, 118n63 Ekamra Kshetra 212 Eliade, Mircea 202 Endowment Act (1863) 211, 217–18 Erdosy, George 185, 194n69 Erythraean Sea 21 ‘estimating the volume’ of coins, problem of 158–64 Esty, Warren 165, 171n102 ethnographic data on caste, compilation of 181 European map-making 22 Fatimid Emirate 153 Fergusson, James 203, 212, 221n15, 221n16, 224n49 ‘fiat’ currency 163–4, 166 Fleet, John F. 181, 193n44 Folkert, Kendall 111, 117n49 Frazer, J. G. 13 Frontiers of the World, The see Ḥudūd al- ‘Ālam ‘Gadhaiya paisa’ coinage 138, 166 gana-samghas 185–7; coin-issuing character of 187; non-adherence to Brahmanical political thought 187; political organisation of 185–6 Gangavatarana 83, 89 Ganges River 18, 21, 25, 39–40, 210–11, 246 Gautama Dharmasutra 190, 195nn85–6 Geographic Information System (GIS) 14

260

Index

Geographical Tradition: Episodes in the History of a Contested Enterprise, The (Livingstone) 26, 30n52 Geography (Ptolemy) 16, 20–1, 25, 29n21, 30n42 Ghaznavid kingdom 153 Ghosh, Suchandra 133n88, 185, 193n63 Gilbaud approximation, for quantifying coinage 165 gold coinage 64, 150, 153, 160, 165 Golden Bough (Frazer) 13 Gommateshvara 98, 102, 106, 109, 115n4 Gonanda III, King 125 Good’s method, for quantifying coinage 165 Google Earth 26 Govindchandra, King 83 graham kula 209 gramadharma 187 guapata khela 211 Gunasenadeva 98, 105–6, 109, 113–14 Gupta Empire 60 Gupta, Parmanand 184, 193n60 Gymnosophists 21

Ibn Ḥawqal 36, 43–4, 49n23 Ibn Ḵurdāḏba 36–8, 42–4, 49n21 Ibn Qāsim, Muhammad 35–6, 43, 47, 49n16, 152 Ilbert bill (1881) controversy 221n16 Imperial Gazetteer of India (1909) 181, 193n46 Indian Feudalism (Sharma) 136, 168n1, 168n5 Indian Institute of Research in Numismatic Studies (IIRNS), Nasik 69n5, 71n33, 159 Indicopleustes, Cosmas 16, 23, 26, 29n24, 47n30, 47n30, 30n53 Indo-Greek coins, circulation of 188–9 ‘Indomania’ 176 Indo-Roman studies, significance and historiography of 59–60 Indo-Sasanian coinage 141–3, 154–5, 163, 165–6 Indus river 34, 45, 49n15 Indus valley 20, 38 Iron Age 4–5 Isidore of Seville (560–636 CE) 19 Islam, rise of 59

Handa, Devendra 184, 191n6 Harappan civilisation, archaeological record of 4 ‘Harishchandra’ dynasty 148 Hastings, Warren 176 Hathigumpha inscription 203, 208 Hekataios of Miletus 34 Herodian temple 6 high-value transactions 166 Himalaya 15, 86, 122–3, 186 Hindu bhakti 112 Hindu devotionalism (bhakti) 99, 111 Hindu mahants 202 ‘Hindu’ math (monastery) 204 Hindu revival, of seventh and eighth centuries 99 Hindu rock-cut monuments 115 Hindu Tribes and Caste (Sherring) 181, 193n43 Hippalus 17 Hire Benakal, Karnataka 4–5 History of Cartography (Harley and Woodward) 15–16, 28n6 History of Hindostan, The (1768) 180 Ḥudūd al- ‘Ālam 37–8, 42, 44, 50n27, 51n44 Hun coinage 139

Jacob, Christian 27, 30n54 Jagannatha Bullubh Muth Committee 218 Jagannatha, Lord 210–11, 219 Jagannatha temple of Puri 201, 207, 212 Jaina Archaeological Heritage of Tamil Nadu (2005) 111, 117n47 ‘Jaina’ Khandagiri–Udayagiri complex 208; Ananta mela in 207; Barabhuji controversy 205–8; Jagannatha Gumpha 211; monuments under AMPA 204–5; as multivalent sacred complex 208–11; as oldest Jaina monuments 207; Padukamath episode in 203–11 Jain art, in southern India 112 Jaina temple management committee 206 Jaina Tirthankaras 209, 224n39 Jain bhakti 111 Jainism 5, 97–9, 113, 115n3, 209; growth of 111 Jain, Rekha 160, 171n77 Jain rock-cut sites, Madurai 97–131; Alagarmalai 100–1; Anaimalai 101–2; Arittapatti 103; carved imagery, location of 114; carvings of Jinas 98; Karungalakkudi 103–4; Kilakuyilkudi 104–6; Kilavalavu 106–7; Kongar

Index Puliyankulam 107; medieval Jain monuments 110–12; Muttupatti 107–9; representations of Jain deities 98; rock-cut architecture 110–11; sites under examination 100–10; standard narrative 99–100; Tirupparankunram 109; Uttamapalayam 109–10 Jain temples, descriptions of 112 Jambudvipa 15, 34, 48n8, 253n7 janapada coins 182, 184–5, 187–9, 193n55; significance of identifying 185; types of 183, 187–8 Jayanta Raja 152 Jayāpīḍa King 126 Jina images, worship of 111–12 Jina Parshvanatha 98, 102, 105, 109 jirnoddharana (restoration), notion of 203, 215 Jones, William 13, 176, 192n16 Judicial Plan of 1772 176 Justinian I 59 Kalabhras 61 Kalinga jina image 208 Kalinjamalai 103 Kali yuga 207, 210, 219, 223n31 Kaliyuga Malika 210 Kalki avatara 210 Kanauj 38–43, 44, 49n16, 51n46, 51n63, 52n69, 156, 168n2 kapala 85, 94n29 ‘Karkotaka’ dynasty 140 Karungalakkudi, Jain rock-cut sites at 100, 103, 107; Jina image 104 Kashikhanda 89 Kashi–Varanasi region 92 Kashmir 120–31; famine 123; force of nature 124; general coinage in 140; geomorphologic formation of 122; guardian of the mountains 122; identity with mountains 122; ‘imagined landscape’ of 125, 130; inception of coinage in 140; ‘Karkotaka’ dynasty 140; Nāgas and mythology of 125; numismatic chronology for 140; physical landscape of 123; physiography of 122; pilgrimage economy 123; ritual traditions 125; snowfall 125 Keeper of the Department of Coins and Medals, British Museum 160 Khandagiri caves 221n20, 222n20, 224n37

261

Kharoshti script 175–6 Kilakuyilkudi, Jain rock-cut sites at 100–1, 104–6, 109, 113–15; medieval carvings 106 Kilavalavu, Jain rock-cut sites at 106–7 Kitāb al-Hind 37, 51n52 Kitāb al-Masālik wa l-Mamālik 36 Kitāb Futū ḥ . al-Buldān 36 Kitāb Gītā (Bhagavadgītā) 47 Kitāb Pātanğal 47 Kittoe, M. 203, 221n13 Kongar Puliyankulam, Jain rock-cut sites at 100–1 ‘Kota-Kula’ fabric 140 kramarājya 126 Krishnaraja-Rupaka 148 Kshatriya tribe 181 kuladharma 187 Kushana coins 188–9, 191 Kushan empire 72n48, 83 Lalatendukesari cave 209 land-grant inscriptions 185 landscape, as a category of historical analysis 1–3 land-use: aspects of 2; reorganisation of 6 Lassen, Christian 16, 29n23 Leoshko, Janice 28n13, 93n14, 111, 117n51, 195n84 Lingaraja temple, Bhubaneswar 201, 203, 209, 211–17, 220, 225n52, 226n57, 226n60; conservation and custody, issues of 211–16; maintenance of 212; ownership of 203, 211–20 List of Protected Monuments 203, 211, 214, 216 Livingstone, David 26, 30n52 Living Without Silver (1990) 137, 168n12 Lord of the Hill of Auspicious Qualities 114 Lyon method, for quantifying coinage 165 Madala Panji 207 maḍavarājya 126 maddadīša 38 madhyadesha, Vedic-Brahmanical tradition of 186 mahajanapadas 186 Mahāpadma (Wular) lake 123, 126, 132n55 Mahāpadma Nāga, story of 126

262

Index

Mahavastu 84, 86, 94n36 Maheshwari, K. K. 142, 169n30, 170n65 Mahlo, Dietrich 147, 169n42 Maḥmūd of Ghazna 35, 37, 49n17 ‘Mainamati’ fabric 145 maṇḍala: development of 248; dhāraṇī and 250–2; Stupa as 247–50 Manikyala stupa 177 Manimekalai 97 Mantrayāna 252 Mappaemundi (world maps of the Western Middle Ages) 19 mapping of India 14 Map Quest 26 maps: Map of Agrippa 19; meaning of 25–26; Peutinger map 16, 22–5, 27 Markandeya 178 Marshall, John 189, 194n77, 203–4, 207, 224n33, 226n57 Ma‘sūd 43 Mathura 3, 40, 112, 117n49, 117n52, 189, 194n79, 195n89 Matsyendranatha deity of Nepal 203 Mayo, Lord 201 Meadows of Gold and the Mines of Gems, The see Murūğ al-Ḏahab wa Ma‘ādin al-Ğawāhir Mean Sea Level (MSL) 92 megalithic monuments 4–5 Megheshvara temple 217, 226n59 Menander, King 18 Meru mountain 15, 27n2 metal coinage: Indian consumption of 63; assessment of numismatic data on 155–7; coinage in India, review of 139–55; ‘Fire Altar’ type coins 156; paucity of 157; quantification of 137, 164; quantifying currency, problems of 158–64; regional stylisations, phase of 157; ‘systematic collecting’ method 158 metallic currency, in medieval India 136 Mihira Deva 152 militant conservatism 204 Mitchiner, M. 140, 169n25, 169n38, 170n53 Mitra coins 189 Mitra, Rajendra Lal 224n39 Mohenjo-daro 4 Moitra, A. K. 206–7, 223n29, 224n34 Mora-Màs method, for quantifying coinage 165 Mricchakatika 181 Mukherji, Bibhuti Bhusan 218, 227n71

Muller method, for quantifying coinage 165 Murūğ al-Ḏahab wa Ma‘ādin al-Ğawāhir 37 Muttupatti, Jain rock-cut sites at 107–9, 114; Jina images 108 naigama coins 183, 189 Naik, Bhabani 217 Natural History (Pliny the Elder) 16, 18–20, 24 Navamuni caves 209 negative binomial method, for quantifying coinage 165 nigamadharma 187 nisidhis 112 Nīla kuṇḍa (modern Verinaga) 122 Nīlamata Purāṇa 120, 122, 124–5, 127–8, 131n5 Northern Black Polished Ware (NBPW) period 103, 141n5 Nrisimhavarman, King 157 numismatic studies, post-independence 183 numismatography, beginning of 175–7 Ojha, D. K. 139, 169n17 Orosius (c. 385–418 CE) 19 Orr, Leslie 99, 111, 116n6, 116n21, 116n27 Padeshvari temple 212–13, 216–17 Padmakalpa 210–11, 224n41, 224n47 Padmakalpatika 211, 224n47 Padmatanka 159 Padukamath temple 203–4 Paharaj, G. C. 218, 228n73 Paippalada 79 Pairs method, for quantifying coinage 165 Pakistani Khyber Pakhtunkhwa 41, 45 Pala coins 145, 163 palaeography 141, 157, 161, 166 Palghat Gap 25 Pallava kingdom 61 Pallavas of Kanchi 150–1 Panchala coins 183–4, 189 Panchala janapada 184 Panda, Raghu 217 Pandya kingdom 71n25 Parkins, Helen 58, 69n4 Parmar, B. M. S. 160 Parshavanatha temple 113 Parvati temple 214, 216, 225n53

Index Pāśupata sect of Śaivism 46 Pātañjala Yogaśāstra 47 Patna Museum 159 paucity of metallic coinage, theory of 137–8, 160 Pechchipallam 105–6, 113 Periplus of the Erythraean Sea (40–70 CE) 17 Peutinger, Conard 22 Peutinger map 16, 22–5, 27, 30n45 Philoponus, John 24 Picture of the Earth, The see Ṣūrat al-Ard Pliny the Elder 16, 19, 26–7 Prachandendra inscription 141 pradakṣiṇā patha 240–1 Praharaj, G. C. 220 Pratiharas 51n46, 137, 139, 144, 154 Pratihara ‘three-dot’ dramma 157, 163 pratītyasamutpādasutra 230–1, 241, 243–4 Pravarasena, King 140 precious metals 166 Prinsep, James 175, 191n10, 192n17, 202 protected monuments: list of 203, 211, 214, 216; preservation of 203 Ptolemy, Claudius 14–15, 20–2, 24, 26–7; Almagest 20; astronomy 15; Geography 16, 20–2, 25 Public Works Department (PWD) 204 punch-marked coins 159 puṇyā pratiṣṭhā 129 Puranas 13, 15–16, 181 Purāṇic Brahmanism 125 Puranṇic ritual order, restoration of 125 quantifying coinage, numismatic way of 164; die analysis 164, 167; typological studies 146, 166 quantifying currency, problems of 158 Raaflaub, Kurt A. 16, 28n9, 28n12, 28n18, 29n34 ‘The racial theory of Indian civilisation’ 174 Rājataraṅgiṇī (Kalhaṇa) 120–32; composition of Kashmir as a space in 120; imagined landscape 125; Mahāpadma Nāga, story of 126; moral lesson in 126; myths and regional identity-formation 121; portrayals of the Nāgas in 125; Puranic ritual order, restoration of 125; Suśravas Nāga, story of 125

263

Rajghat, excavations at 93n7 Rajpoot tribe 181 Ramachandran, T. N. 205–6, 222n24, 223nn27–8 ramaṇī yaśca puṇyaśca 127 Ramayana 210 Ramnagar, excavations at 91 Rapson, E. J. 182, 193n49 rashtra devata (state deity) 211 Rashtrakuta drammas 157 Rashtrakutas 139, 149, 170n47 Ratna-traya 153 Ravenna Cosmography 23 Ray, Himanshu Prabha 7n1, 8n2, 8n13, 28n13, 29n30, 29n32, 48n13, 49n15, 69–70, 71n34, 72n46, 93n14, 174, 191n5, 195n84, 220, 220n7, 221n10 Ray, Niharranjan 145 Regulation XIX of 1810 211, 217–18 relativist reductionism 161 religions of India 200, 202 religious acculturation, process of 44 religious architecture, construction of 1, 7 Religious Endowment Act (1863) 211, 217, 225n52 Rennell, James 16, 29n22 Rishipattan 84, 86–8 ritual and worship 5 Rodgers, Charles J. 179, 192n33 Roman-Byzantine Empire 7 Roman coins 57–68; along Palghat Pass 65; assertion of economic and social status 68; Azhagankulam excavation 65; distribution pattern of 65, 66; economic landscapes 63–66; gold and base metal coinage 58; identification of 62; imitation of a Solidus of Zeno 67; incidence of piercings 67; in India 61–62; as indicators of economic exchange 62; interpretations of 62–3; mapping trade by 65; non-economic distribution of 57; production of imitation 63; reform of 59; sacred landscapes 66–68; significance of 66, 68; within space 63–65; as spaces for representation 67–8; from Sri Lanka 63; use and appropriation of 57 Roman Empire 2, 19, 58–60, 62, 69n7, 69n11, 71n27 Roman trade, with India 61–3; Arikamedu associated with 62 Rosenwein, Barbara 6, 8n17 Roy, Sita Ram 163

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Index

Saiva, cultural landscape of 1 sallekhana 112 Samudragupta’s Allahabad inscription 181 Sanskrit kāvya 120–1, 127 sapta sindhu 34 Sarnath 2–3 Sarnath–Aktha region 83; Aktha-nala 84; Black-and-Red Ware (BRW) 84; Buddhist landscape, origin and growth of 83; ceramic technology 84; deposits of Period I at 85; desertion of 83; excavations at 83–85; exposed structures in Dharmarajika Stupa at 80; geo-ecological and cultural makeup of 86; geographical location of 86; identification of Rishipattan 84, 86; material culture 84; occupation of 84; patronage of the kings and traders 86; pottery-discs 85; shrinkage and loss of sacred Buddhist landscape 88 Sasanian dirham 154 Sasanian Persian Empire 59 Šašnāma 36, 38, 42–4, 49n16, 49n19 Sastri, K. A. Nilakanta 60–1, 70n20, 71n25, 168n2 Satakarni, Gautamiputra 136 Satavahanas 147, 161–2; ‘elephant’-type coins 151 Schroeck method, for quantifying coinage 165 Settipodavu cave 105 sevaks (temple priests) 216 Sharma, R. S. 71n24, 72n42, 136–9, 158–68, 168n1, 168nn3–4, 168nn8–9, 169n15; ‘decline-centric’ model 137; ‘paucity of coinage,’ notion of 137, 139, 167; problems of quantification 138, 158–9 Shasana-devi (protective deity) 206, 209 Shaw, Julia 8n6 Sherring, M. A. 193n43 Shravana Belgola, Karnataka 112–13 shrenidharma 187 Shri Adivaraha 152, 161 Shrimad Bhagavatam 210 Shrimad Varaha 152 Shrimali, Krishna Mohan 183, 193n59 shrines in Asia, religious affiliation of 5 ‘Shri Vi’ coins 161 ‘Shri Vi Gra’ coins 161 sightings of India, representations of 16; audience 24; Claudius Ptolemy’s Geography 20–2; concerns regarding 24–27; Cosmas Indicopleustes’s

Christian Topography 16–17; local versus global knowledge 25; Periplus of the Erythraean Sea 17–18; Peutinger map 22–3; Pliny the Elder’s Natural History 19–20; sea versus land 25–26; tradition and its discontents 26 Silappatikaram 97 Silk Route 21, 35 silver drammas 141, 149, 155; of Rashtrakuta period 150 Simha, Jaitra 157 ‘simplistic centralization-decentralization dichotomy’ 186 Singh, Jai Prakash 183, 193n56, 193n58 Singh, K. S. 180, 192n39 Sircar, D. C. 16, 28n20, 93n17, 183, 193n54 Sivaprakasam, C. K. 107, 116n12 Śivarātri mahotsava 125 Skandagupta, King 144, 156, 170n65 Skanda Purana 89 Smith, V. A. 182, 193n47 solasa mahājanapada 35 South Indian ‘Dark Age’ 60–61; Caŋkam era 60 Sovereign Map: Theoretical Approaches to Cartography throughout History, The (Jacob) 27 Spooner, D. B. 213, 225n54, 227n61 Sri Lanka 7, 23–4, 26, 38, 40, 45, 57, 63, 65–6, 68, 71n22, 247, 252 Srivastava, A. K. 160–1 Stirling, Andrew 203, 209, 221n12 stone edicts of Ashoka 176 Stupa 230; ‘burial ad sanctos’ 231–2; dhāraṇī inside 245–7; evolution of 241–3; Mahāstupa 232, 238; as a maṇḍala 247–50; worship in Odisha 232–3 Sun temple, as protected monument 216 Ṣūrat al-Ard 36 Suśravas Nāga, story of 125 svabhedavidhuram mandalam 130 Svayambhu Purana 203 Taḥqīq mā li-l-Hind 37, 40–1, 45–7 Takṣaka Nāga 125 Talbert, Richard J. A. 8, 16, 23, 28n9, 28n12, 28n19, 29n34, 30n42, 30n45 Tamil-Brahmi inscription 97, 100, 102–3, 107–9, 116n23 Tamil Jain: communities 98; identity and practice 113 Tamil Shaiva literary 114

Index Tandon, P. 141, 169n27, 169n39 Temple Committee guarantee 214 temples, founding of 129 Terajanmasarana 224n45, 210 Thakur, Upendra 174, 191n1 Theodosius II, Emperor 65 ‘three Buddhist jewels’ 153 Tilwat 39 Tirthankara Rishabhadeva 206, 224n39 Tirthankaras, worship of 111 Tirupparankunram, Jain rock-cut sites at 109, 114–15 Tiwari, Shiva Kant 139, 169n17 Tod, Major 178 ‘token’ currency 163 Toyaviplava 123 Trautmann, Thomas R. 28n5, 30, 174, 176, 191n3, 192n15 tribal coins 174, 178, 182, 185, 187, 191; cataloguing and categorising of 182–3; category of 182; communities whose coins were identified as 182 tribes, definition of 182 tribes in India, colonial understanding of 180–2 Tuffnel, B. 179, 192n32 Turner, Paula 63, 71n35 Tye, Robert 141, 169n26 Udayagiri, Odisha: Buddhas and Bodhisattva, alignment of 251; Buddhist complex 235; ‘burial ad sanctos’ 231–2; caityagṛha complex as an area of attraction in 233–7; dhāraṇī and maṇḍala 250–2; dhāraṇī inside 245–7; Diamond Triangle 230, 234; evolution of Stupa 241–3; Stupa as a maṇḍala 247–50; Stupa worship 232–3 Udayagiri caves 201, 221n18, 222n23, 222n24 upaplavapriya deśa 130 uparwar 91 urban decay 136–7 Urban Decay in India (1987) 136, 168n3 utpalasāka 128 Uttamapalayam, Jain rock-cut sites at 109–10, 114; medieval carvings 110 Uttarapatha 87 Vajrapani 245 Vakataka coins 147, 170n46 Valentinian II, Emperor 65 Vangala-mriganka coins 145 Varanasi 79; adoption of Shaivism 83; archaeological findings 81;

265

cultural zone of 92; as described in the textual traditions 79–83; emergence and growth of 81; Ganges River 18, 21, 25, 39–40, 210–11, 246; identification of 81; location of excavated sites of 80; religious establishments of 81; religious landscape and water bodies 91–3 Vasco da Gama 22 Vatteluttu script 101–2, 106, 109 Vedic Samhitas 85 ‘Vedic-Shastric-Puranic’ ideas 187 ‘vernacular’ languages 175 ‘Vigrahapala’ coins 160–3 Vigrahapala II 163 Vijayanagara Empire 3, 20 vimshopaka 154 Vināyakapāladeva, King 160 Vinayakapala, King 160–1 Vindhyashakti 153 Vishama Siddhi 150 Vishnukundin coinage 150 Vishnukundin dynasty 147–8; coins of 148 Vishnu Puranas 178 Vishnuvardhana I, King 150–1 vishti 136 Vitastā (Jhelum) River 122–4, 126–8, 132n35 vyalas (mythical horned lions) 107 Walburg, Reinhold 65, 71n36, 72n40, 72n44 Walburg’s hypothesis 66 Waldseemüller, Martin 22 water-management 2 Western Chalukyas of Badami 150 Western Kshatrapas 60, 161 Wheeler, R. E. M. 62, 71n27, 71n31 Whitehead, R. B. 182, 193n50 Wilford, Francis 13–16, 26–7, 27n1, 28n3 Wilkinson, Darryl 190, 194n83 Williams, Monier 181 Woodburn, John 212 Wright, H. N. 182, 193n48 Xuanzang (Chinese-Buddhist pilgrim monk) 34, 81–3, 177, 233, 243 yajna kunda (sacrificial pit) 207 Yashaditya inscription 141 yātrāmahotsava 125 yātrāyāgādi nāgānām 125 Yaudheya coin 189 Yugabdha Gita 210, 224n24