She was running through a meadow. A lush green, endless, vast land meeting the sky on the horizon. She stopped for breath and turned. There were mountain ranges behind her. Suddenly, she realised that although she was part of the scene, she wasn't quite herself; her name, her identity. Yet it was her. She stopped under a royal Poinciana in full bloom. A lady was playing the flute. The tune was quite familiar. The lady was she. His familiar face suddenly met her eyes. Hoor woke up with goosebumps.
He was attracted by the flute like a bee was to honey. In a trance, he could see himself walking towards her flute. He sat down at her feet, mesmerised. Her eyes were closed, and her lips trembled to make music on the flute. The wind and the rustling leaves made music with her, it seemed. He wanted to talk, but no words came out. Finally, she stopped playing and opened her eyes. Taraksh sat up in his bed. What was that?
They had been in the programme for three days now, and Taraksh barely found time to talk to anyone except Hoor. He shook off the dream as a figment of his subconscious mind, which was probably intrigued by this woman he had just met. As Hoor eased her sleepless, heavy head with a cup of tea, she tried to remember her dream due to continued interaction with the same person. But, somehow, her heart disagreed with her mind.
And then met the same day again, for it was time to continue their research. They noted down everything they found vital. However, sitting across the table since the morning, they were silent. Finally, their team leader approached with a smile.
"Don't just work here. You have come here from two different places. Know each other too." He patted Taraksh's back. Eyes met briefly at his words.
Words of greetings that escaped their lips were frivolous; the thoughts behind them were far more different. None of them spoke of what they dreamt, but none could brush it off either. Hoor and Taraksh stared at each other for a moment, and an unspoken past dissolved in the air. Eventually, it was Hoor who broke the silence- "Seems your night was cachectic!"
"Well, not quite, just a few random thoughts. Do I look devoid of sleep?" He smiled sheepishly.
"In some ways, yes." Hoor nodded. Taraksh wondered a little, staring at her face, trying to put it in his dream. She fitted perfectly, making him feel a little ill at ease. Hoor could feel his stare. She shifted a little.
"The same goes for you, too. Guess it's the excitement of this event." He broke his stare and looked away, feeling her uneasiness.
"Most likely, yes." Hoor had a faint smile on her face as they resumed work in silence.
After the usual security checks on the artefacts they had taken, Taraksh asked, "Which one are you going to take first?"
"I would definitely want to have a look at the seals again. More than monetary value, it seems to me that those people were trying to communicate. What about you?"
Taraksh replied in an excited tone, "This indeed is a surprise! I share similar thoughts. The clay tablets and writings are something quite unexplored, and the interest of witnessing those brought me here in the first place."
Hoor darted an agreeing smile towards a beaming Taraksh, who continued towards the section where clay tablets and Indus symbols were kept.
It was noon, and both of them were chatting away at the museum cafeteria. Apart from the food, photographs of certain clay seals and tablets that they had picked up for the day lay in front of them. The food went cold, and both continued scrutinising the findings.
"This is the most astonishing!" exclaimed Taraksh casually, taking a sip of his cold coffee. Watching him sigh in distaste, Hoor continued his exclamation, "So it seems. Of all the clay tablets, this series of four writings is somewhat similar and yet pretty different." Watching him ponder deeply in one of the clay writings, Hoor questioned, "What's your theory?"
"There is an unmistakable pattern at the end of each writing. Additionally, if you look closely," Taraksh passed the photographs to Hoor, "a certain group of symbols are repeating themselves. Unlike the seals, this seems like whoever wrote this was trying to communicate something to someone."
"How can you be so sure?" Hoor asked, intrigued.
"Well, look here," Taraksh started marking each photograph with a marker, "The symbols in the footnotes are repeated in alternate clay tablets. Both these groups of symbols can be found in other places, too. My theory, you say? I think these were journals or maybe letters. Ahhh! Only if their writing was deciphered."
Hoor gasped, "Wow! That's pretty accurate, I must say, but will it not be far-fetched to claim they wrote letters and journals? I mean, there is no evidence that the Indus people actually wrote or maintained records, right? I think we should just record the similarity." Looking at Taraksh, she remarked, "There are also a few things you missed pointing out. Let me do the honours." Taking the marker from his hand, she continued, "If you look closely, each of these symbols is scribbled in a pattern. According to my guess, it almost seems like a person or two people were communicating. So to a larger extent, keeping aside the mind, my heart says you're right."
"Could it not be possible that they must have adapted communication through writing, like the ancient Egyptians or Sumerians did? I mean, we have evidence there, and these are contemporary civilisations with trade relationships."
"Possible." Hoor agreed, "But we need more than theories and our gut feelings to actually prove that we are right. So let's put the similarities in our reports, not what we assume them to be. We are archaeologists. We aren't here to make stories."
A glint of humbleness sparked in Taraksh's eyes, "But just for the sake of it, imagine. To think of two people communicating with each other thousands of years ago and us, trying to decipher thousands of years apart, is such a divine oxymoron. Maybe, they were siblings; maybe, they were lovers. It's rightly said-the paper burns, but the words fly away."
The shadows of the late noon brightened the face of Hoor. The apogee of her contrast took Taraksh by surprise for a moment, and the dreams of the previous night came floating by. Unaware of his gasp, Hoor said, "If what we are thinking is the truest message behind these tablets, then hopefully we did bring together two people who strived to meet but could never. The problem is their language has still not been deciphered."
Looking at Taraksh for a reply, she noticed his eyes shine brilliantly with joy. How curiously he looked towards her, it seemed he knew her for ages! Again, the dreams of the night now weighed on her mind. She stared blankly at the eyes of Taraksh, which seemed to search for something on her own. How familiar they were, but how? Hoor had never been a fan of romance. Yet, somehow today, she was.
Time had stopped as even their breaths went cold in memories. Finally, the bustle of the cafeteria brought them back to reality and breaking the uncomfortable silence, Taraksh spoke, "I think we should head back to the office, or I guess, I mean, we can hit the library to cross-check references."
Hoor suddenly found herself at a loss for words, "Oh yes! I mean, sure. The library seems good and uh… the office too. No, right. The library, yes." Hoor suddenly dreaded being in the silent, empty office with him. Did he get that she was conscious? She hoped not.
Taraksh nodded, and Hoor got up, following his cue. The day after was supposed to be the conclusion of the event. They had to submit their reports soon. The closing ceremony would end with a small keynote speech from the respective archaeological departments of India and Pakistan. Then, there would be borders once again.
