November 2, 2003

The dirt track was immensely uneven and though driving on that portion lasted juts a few minutes, it seemed like eternity

In late 1961, the Department of Archaeology and Museums selected four fresh post-graduates, two each from East and West Pakistan, to be qualified to become career archaeologists. As one of these archaeological scholars, I was to undergo a rigorous training in different fields and disciplines before being taken into regular service.

Starting from the archaeological excavations, which immediately were underway at Banbhore, we were to be trained for archaeological exploration and in drawing and photography, in addition to report writing, compiling and editing research papers and their printing. A considerable period of training would also be devoted to the study of numismatics, epigraphy, calligraphy and general administration.

As directed in the selection order, we were to report at the head office of the department located in Block 64 of the Pakistan Secretariat at Karachi. However, on the given date, only two of us from West Pakistan, Gulzar Muhammad Khan and myself, had reported. After going through the normal formalities, we were instructed to call at the Exploration Branch, then functioning in the Aiwan-i-Riffat at Ingle Road, so as to catch the weekly transport to Banbhore.

At the appointed time and day, January 4, 1962, Thursday, I reached Aiwan-i-Riffat. The place was at a level lower than the road outside. Its huge compound was very dusty with hardly any signs of a footpath or metalled road. There was a small water-tanker on two wheels lying near the main gate, as if abandoned since centuries. A small and old soft-top Land Rover with badly fading chocolate colour was parked. I didn’t see any person whom I could ask for guidance, so I went straight to the building, standing almost in the centre of the plot, and entered through one of its two doors on the western side. On the inside, the building looked haunted with years of neglect and untidiness. There was a man in the closed veranda. I was right in taking him as an attendant. He was the peon to attend the Assistant Superintendent of Archaeology, Harun ur Rashid. He immediately took me to the officer who met with broad smile and, as they say, open arms. He made me feel comfortable by offering a cup of tea as he continued with his sermon as to the role of excavations in archaeology and standing up to the expectations in forbearing the hazards on the way. He was a pretty good ‘talker’, and very soft at that. We became friends just minutes after our first meeting.

In the meanwhile, Gulzar had also arrived and after some additional briefing, it was announced that the jeep was ready to leave. We came out and with the help of the peon, started loading our attache cases and bedrolls. It was then that I saw a short-statured and a little flabby man with greyish, oily hair coming out of the building with a bag in his hands and rushing direct to the front seat of the jeep. Now, we would have to cram ourselves into the rear portion of the small Land Rover with hardly any space left vacant after loading our belongings and some official packets. The driver, a tall and well-built man in his early 40s called Younus, was a little friendlier and helped us both jump into the vehicle from its rear side. As if it was not enough, another man looking like a peon or a guard was also pushed in. I could clearly make out that the tough times of training to turn us into hardy archaeologists, as briefed, had already started.

The Land Rover rolled on towards its destination. We could hardly enjoy the drive through the city of Karachi. I could, however, see the road and some buildings at the rear running behind and beyond us. We could also barely talk. Perhaps, we were shocked at the treatment meted out to the young research scholars who were assured of respect like Gazetted Class 11 officers, which certainly were of no mean status during the early ’60s.

The jungle of concrete and brick-facade buildings fast disappeared and we were now on Drigh Road, later named Sharae Faisal. The housing societies and schemes that now make this area very congested were hardly there at the time. The Pakistan Employees Co-operative Housing Society, also known by the shortened nomenclature of just Society, was still in its developing stage. The sparse houses making the Society were only on the northern side of Drigh Road, as one could see a lot of dust-raising machinery on the other side, preparing to build the infrastructure before the start of the house-building activity.

Beyond Society were some bungalows making the initial stages of a posh locality, Muhammad Ali Society or KDA Scheme No 1. In one of these large houses was set up the IBA Hostel which had provided me accommodation for these few days in Karachi. Then there were islands of housings of Drigh Colony, Malir, Landhi, etc. A road somewhere near these islands turned to the North towards Karachi Airport. We had well passed a site clearly exposing some old structures standing in the wilderness with no signs of habitation around it. These were the Chaukhandi Tombs, my colleague told me, trying to impress me with his knowledge of archaeology. On my query that there were no habitations in sight so who were the people buried there, he had no answer.

I was not a regular smoker, but for Gulzar it was an unbearable situation. He did try on his Capstan once or twice, but with the ‘rocking and rolling’ movements following the ‘bouncing and strutting’ of the Land Rover on the ‘National Highway’, it was not an easy proposition. I could clearly see the air of disenchantment on his face, specially when he was still sporting his ‘formal’ apparel. The Land Rover was still running with its heavy-engine sound and all sorts of chirping and cheeping being emitted by its frail little body. All these, when mixed with the strong humming of the air and stretched moments of silence of the individuals inside, presented a dismayed scene, hardly bearable for a longer duration. Perhaps, we were so busy in thinking that we forgot all the topics of conversation. Or were we so crouched and bundled up in that smallest of the smaller places that our minds would hardly let make our tongues move! Whatever, it was not a pleasant ride. But still more was to come.

Someone in the front announced that we had reached Dabheji and would soon leave the metalled road, although not with ideal surface, and turn right to take a dust-track. The gentleman was right, as it did not take many moments before the first signal came. It was a tremendous bump, which shook my body like never before, even if I had had quite a few rough rides on horse or camelbacks during hunting trips. We were now running through a lot of valayati babbar (Acacia Nilotica Cupersignoms) and occasional cactus plants, ironically called jungle (forest) by the West Pakistan Forest Department.

The dirt track was immensely uneven with lots of bits and shreds of yellowish stone, sometimes seen flying up towards the sides and the back of the vehicle. Although driving on this portion did not last for more than 10-20 minutes, it seemed like an unending ordeal. The Land Rover was not doing better than the speed of a normal man’s running over a good track. The speed still lessened when we thought that the way would be a little smooth. And then we saw newly whitewashed stone-pieces lining on both sides of the track. I could feel the change in the air when the vehicle stopped amidst a tentage village. We were in Banbhore.

The mound of Banbhore is situated on the Right Bank of the Gharo Creek, though only a mere shadow of its splendid dimensions in the past. It covers a large area and rises considerably to have attracted many a scholar to probe its cultural wealth. General Alexander Cunningham is commonly taken as the first archaeologist to have evinced an interest in this site purely from an archaeological point of view. Next came Henry Cousens in the early 1920s, but abandoned the idea of a large-scale probe as he thought it to be too small to be of much significance. He gathered this idea from the fact that he could encounter only small portions of remains, which were already showing at the surface. He also thought it only to be the locale of the famous legend of Sassi Punhun, frequently recounted in Sindhi homes, as the mound was still known as Sassi jo Takar.

N.G. Majumdar from the Archaeological Survey of (British) India did lay some trial trenches at this site in 1930, but could not find it worth large-scale excavations. After Partition, Leslie Alcock of the Pakistan Department of Archaeology worked here on a limited dig in 1951. He, too, was disillusioned with the results and abandoned his quest for its thorough examination.

All these scholars had encountered only the Muslim period remains and, finding them late in historical perspective, did not attach much importance to the site. It was only in 1958 that regular excavations on scientific lines, under the directions of Dr F.A. Khan, were started to lay bare its true character. These operations were now in the fifth year, having been carried out on a seasonal basis, in winters only.

A Grand Mosque, probably the first in the South Asia subcontinent, a Shiva temple, some parts of a fortification wall with bastions, an anchorage of the Muslim period, mansion-like houses and an area designated as the industrial zone were amongst the prized discoveries of four years’ labour. In the time scale, the site represented an age starting from the 1st Century B.C. to 13th Century A.D. However, no deep trench had by then been dug to establish the chronology of the site. It was mainly with this latest idea in view that the probe was to be continued. Additionally, the dig was also aimed at exposing the further length of the girdling fortification wall and exploring the bastions to their deepest levels.

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