A Letter from Neil Armstrong

 

At Cadet College Hasanabdal, where I was studying in Class 10, we boarders were required to write letters home once a fortnight. The letters were collected during prep period, and any lapse on this account was met some sort of minor penance. On one occasion, I was reminded by a dorm-mate about the letter which I had forgotten to write. Hastily, I tore up a page from an exercise notebook but could not think of anything worthwhile to write to my parents. Suddenly it struck me, half in jest, to write a letter to the first man on the moon, Neil Armstrong. I do not exactly remember what I wrote, but it was a congratulatory note: 'Well done, sir'... sort of. The letter was folded and placed in an envelope, without a postage stamp, as two rupees were not affordable from the meager pocket money we got. The letter was collected by the dorm in-charge, without much ado. The address on the envelope was very sketchy too (Neil Armstrong, NASA, Houston, USA). I assumed that the letter would not make it past our local post office, so I did not bother about it anymore.

A few weeks later, at pack up time, I saw a bunch of cadets at the letter rack in our Omar Wing. My name was being called out and everyone seemed excited about something. When the letter was handed over to me, I spotted ‘National Aeronautics and Space Administration’ in the sender’s address, and the post office date stamped 1 Jan 1970. On opening the envelope, I could not believe that Neil Armstrong had actually replied in his own handwriting! The letter is a cherished memento from the first man on the moon. The letter is quite rare, as Armstrong stopped replying to letters after a year or so. He also did not give many interviews, and remained reclusive till he passed away.

Who were the Meluhha?

 𒈨𒈛𒄩𒆠

[me-luh-ha country]

Cuneiform scripts on Sumerian and Akkadian cylinder seals and clay tablets mention Meluhha traders, who are generally assumed to belong to the Indus Valley region. Linguists have looked at the etymology of the Meluhha toponym, focusing on its purported Dravidian linkages. This line of thought is based on the premise that the proto-Dravidian speakers of Indus Valley called their region, or themselves, by that name or its derivatives. It has to be understood that the vastly spread Indus Civilisation was not a centrally controlled polity but a confederacy of city-states, and hence likely to have been identified by more than one appellation, as yet unknown, or undeciphered. There is also an interesting likelihood that the Indus region was named Meluhha by their Sumerian and Akkadian trading partners. Here, I present a hypothesis that is founded on the latter possibility, and argue for a novel semantic and phonetic construct of the word Meluhha.

It would be instructive to note that the Sumerian word malah, and its loan words in ancient Semitic languages – including Akkadian (malahum), Arabic (malaah), Aramaic (melahha) and Hebrew (melakh) – all mean ‘sailor’ or ‘seafarer,’ which is what maritime traders of the Indus Valley were to the Sumerians and Akkadians. Meluhha is, thus, most likely a colloquial derivative of malah. Meluhha Country, as written in Akkadian cuneiform in the title of this note would, therefore, mean Seafarers’ Country, more in the sense of a geographical region than a political entity. Malah also continues as an ancient loan word in Urdu, an Indo-Iranian language spoken in Pakistan and Northern India, and retains its meaning of a sailor.

It may be noted that long after maritime trade from Indus Valley declined, the Meluhha epithet was re-attributed by the Assyrian King Ashurbanipal to a region around Egypt that he had campaigned against. The reappearance of the name after more than a millennium might seem contrary and confusing, but probably it harked back to the historic memory of a distant land, in all its glory. 

___________________

[The Akkadian Empire (2334-2154 BC) was the first ancient empire of Mesopotamia after the long-lived Sumerian civilisation that consisted of several city-states. The Akkadian Empire exercised considerable influence across Mesopotamia, the Levant, and Anatolia. Alluding to the trade relations, an inscription attributed to its founder, Sargon of Akkad, proudly proclaimed, “Ships from Meluhha, ships from Magan, (and) ships from Dilmun tie up alongside the quay of Agade.”]

An Investigation of a Harappan Trading Outpost on the Makran Coast

 Introduction

The period between 6,500 BC and 5,000 BC saw the transition from Hunter-Gatherers to Early Food Producers in the Indus Valley. This era is represented at Mehrgarh, a Neolithic- Chalcolithic site located on the Bolan piedmont in Balochistan. It is characterised by domestication of plants including wheat, barley and lentils, and animals including cattle, goats and sheep. The site offers evidence of grain storage rooms within mud-brick houses, implying surplus grain production that could be consumed off-season, and during seasonal drought or flooding caused by hill torrents in rainy season. Surplus production also offered the possibility of barter in exchange for items like ornaments made of sea shells and colourful stones, evidently obtained from distant sources. The nature of early trading was mostly restricted to high value commodities for the well-to-do, which also stirred social stratification, something that was lacking amongst hunter-gatherers and pastoral nomads of the past. Trade, thus, came to be an early by-product of an emerging agrarian society.

The Early Harappan Phase between 5,000 BC and 2,600 BC saw developments in ceramics including wheel-turned pottery, copper metallurgy, seal carving, and the rudiments of writing. A most important technological development during this phase was invention of the wheel, circa 3,500 BC, purportedly in Mesopotamia. Unlike pannier-laden beasts of burden, or basket-bearing labourers of the past, wheeled vehicles allowed greater distances to be traversed in much shorter times. In the Indus Valley and its peripheral areas, two-wheeled bullock carts came into vogue, allowing larger volumes of goods to be transported to and from distant areas more efficiently. Different settlements were now linked by well-established trade networks along trodden pathways, as well as rivers, to facilitate the movement of goods and raw materials. Some of these raw materials that defined status and power, like gold, silver, marine shells and gemstones were available exclusively in certain regions, resulting in robust competition to obtain them. New settlements sprang up to exploit, as well as control and protect the newly discovered resource areas. Trade and communication networks, along with a diverse agrarian subsistence base that could feed cities securely, became the keys to regional connectivity or ‘regionalisation’. This phase evolved into what Kenoyer terms as ‘formative urbanism.’

The period between 2,600 BC and 1,900 BC, also known as the Mature Harappan Phase, saw complete integration of regional cultures of the Greater Indus Valley and its urban centres. Five of these major centres can be classified as city-states based on their size, extent of civic development, and the economic and political power they projected in the region at large. These states included Mohenjo-daro (250 ha), Harappa (150 ha) and Ganweriwala (80 ha) in Pakistan, and Dholavira (100 ha) and Rakhigarhi (80 ha) in India. These city-states were largely independent, and each held sway over substantial contiguous territory. Absence of palaces and tombs for any royalty seems to suggest that a small group of elites including merchants, landowners and priests, collectively ruled each city-state. During the mature phase, these states remained at the forefront of Greater Indus Valley. This phase is characterised by large pre-planned cities and their peripheral settlements, use of kiln-fired bricks for buildings, walled locales with gated communities, numerous water wells, and fastidious attention to sanitation. Tools of trade were astutely standardised across the region for ease of business. These included uniform weights and measures, and an effective system of trade control and taxation that was implemented by local governments or guilds, with the help of seals and tablets (hitherto undeciphered). Trade in this phase extended to the Gulf and Mesopotamia in sail boats that hugged the coast, and made use of monsoon winds and seasonal currents. Bountiful agricultural produce – coupled with no known evidence of standing armies and warfare – spawned widespread prosperity amongst the population. The result was a peaceful and fairly egalitarian society that lasted seven centuries and beyond.

Nature of Trade – An Overview

Trading in the Indus Valley was of two distinct and diverse types: local and distant. Village-to-town (or farm-to-market) local trade dealt with commodities consumed on a day-to-day basis, and included edibles like grain, lentils, vegetables, fruits, meat, dairy products and condiments. Cotton, a staple product of the Indus Valley, was another important article of regular trade. A large market size, secure communication networks, and dependable means of road and fluvial transportation system, ensured that subsistence needs of the majority population were adequately met through local trade.

The second type of trade pertained to material goods that define status and power, and involved imports from distant resource areas because of the relative rarity of these commodities in the Indus Valley. The elite of the Indus city-states were wealthy enough to afford exotic items like: (i) jewellery crafted from gold, silver, gemstones and marine shell; (ii) durable utensils and other sundry implements manufactured from copper, and the more robust bronze; (iii) figurines and amulets, carved from steatite (soapstone). Crafting of these imported raw materials was done in local workshops. This arrangement kept the costs low, and also allowed the customers to place orders in step with designs and styles prevalent in the Indus Valley.

Table-1

As Table-1 indicates, trade with peripheral resource regions was wide-ranging, and could be easily conducted overland, with bullock carts as the principal means of transportation. Flat-bottomed, high-prowed river boats were also used for transporting goods, where feasible. Way stations for victuals and resting of men and beasts must have been pre-arranged at towns and villages enroute. For security reasons, movement along the roads and riverine tracts would have been in well-guarded convoys. Most of these organisational and logistical issues were better taken care of when a trading outpost was eventually established at Shortughai (Afghanistan) around 2000 BC. The outpost ensured efficient extraction of lapis lazuli and tin from nearby mines, and arranged for their prompt transportation to the major centres of Indus Valley, where these were much in demand.

The main technical constraint to long distance trade was the limited capacity, and slow speed of inland transportation. This resulted in a shift of focus on to maritime trade, despite the risk factors like unreliable navigation and piracy at sea.

Table-2

It can be seen from Table-2 that maritime trade extended to the Gulf and beyond. Oman (Magan) was an additional source of copper, as well as marine shell. Bahrain (Dilmun) was a supplier of mother-of-pearl used in high-end jewellery. Imports from Mesopotamia (Sumer and Akkad) mostly included agricultural products like dates, incense and olive oil, that were either scarce or not available at all in the Indus Valley.

Intriguing as it is, Sumerians and Akkadians did not send their trading ships to the ports of Indus Valley, which was known to them as ‘Meluhha’ Country. Operating out of small harbours along the Makran Coast, it was the Meluhha ships that navigated all the way to the Tigris-Euphrates delta.

Alluding to the trade networks, a cuneiform inscription attributed to the founder of the Akkadian Empire (2334-2154 BC), King Sargon of Akkad, proudly proclaims: “He made the ships from Meluhha, the ships from Magan, (and) the ships from Dilmun tie up alongside the quay of Agade.”

Table-3

A cursory glance at Table-3 shows that exports to Sumer and Akkad mainly included items that were not available in Mesopotamia. Carnelian, lapis lazuli, ivory, and marine shell were much sought after for jewellery by the well-to-do people. Rosewood and Himalayan Cedar was used in quality furniture, as well as construction material in temples. Indus cotton textiles were so popular that a colony of weavers from the Indus Valley was especially established in the town of Guabba (near Lagash) around 2112 BC.

There are a few references to some Indus animals, including the long-horned water buffalo depicted on a cylindrical seal. Peacocks are depicted on pottery, and may be identified with the enigmatic ‘haia birds’ mentioned in a few inscriptions. These animals and birds may also have been part of regular trade with the Indus Valley. Indus-Mesopotamian trade lasted during the Mature Harappan Phase, peaking out during the reign of Sargon of Akkad.

Problems of Overseas Trade

It is a marvel of human ingenuity that overseas trade could be conducted over vast distances, four millennia ago. One has to imagine the coordination required for transporting goods, firstly overland from an Indus city to a port on the Arabian Sea coast, and then overseas on coast-hugging sailing ships bound for Mesopotamian ports – a total of 3,500 km from Harappa to Ur, for instance.

Fig-1

Arriving at a port, the convoy of bullock carts, loaded with costly merchandise for export, would have to wait for a ship which might not be readily available. Setting up a temporary camp, guarding the goods, arranging food for men and fodder for beasts, and enduring the merciless Makran sun, were some of the challenges that had to be met. Similar problems were faced when imported goods arriving by ship had to be transported on bullock carts for further travel inland. The difficulties were further compounded by greedy middlemen at the ports, who got their chance to make immoderate profits while provisioning for the weary Indus teams waiting for the ships or their bullock carts.

A permanent trading outpost, at or near the port, was just the facility that could take care of most of the mentioned problems. It could serve the purpose of a caravanserai, a freight-forwarder’s office, and a warehouse. Besides the workers in periodic transit, personnel posted for longer durations could be housed in fairly tolerable conditions. As would be expected, such trading posts had no place for resident families, who would only have added to the difficulties.

Soon after overseas trade started, the need for a trading outpost on the Makran coast must have been felt. In fact, there were two such posts (Sokhta Koh and Sutkagen Dor) 150 km apart as the tern flies. Whether both these posts were established by either Harappa or Mohenjo-daro, or one each by both – perhaps in mutual competition – remains moot due to lack of comprehensive excavations at these coastal sites. There is also the possibility of the earlier one having been abandoned due to excessive coastal recession, tectonic uplift or a catastrophic earthquake, and a new post was established thereafter.

Makran Coast Environment

Located between the Strait of Hormuz and the Indus Delta, the Makran Subduction Zone runs east-west for 900 km. At the margin of the plate, rapid surface uplift of up to 2 cm per year is experienced (Mason et al, 2007; Frohling and Szeliga, 2016), which is linked to subduction of the oceanic portion of the Arabian Plate beneath the Eurasian Plate (Fig-2).

Fig-2

The coastal morphology of the Makran coast is determined by the interaction between plate tectonics, differential soil erosion between hard and soft rock, and coastal sedimentation which permits accumulation of extensive sand deposits. The general topography of Makran coast is marked by the Makran Coastal Range which runs east-west for about 400 km, rising to 2,100 meters at places. The present distance of the hill range from the coast varies from 0-20 km. In these regions, the coast has receded seaward by several kilometres over the last millennium at the rates of up to 5 meters per year (Gharibreza, 2016; Normand et al, 2019). This rate indicates that the coast must have been about 22 km inland, 4,500 years ago. These results emphasise vigorous sediment activity along the Makran Coast.

The Makran region presently has an arid climate with a low yearly mean precipitation of 97-127 mm at the coastline (Sanlaville et al, 1991). Rainfall occurs mainly in winter and can be intense, inducing flooding in the coastal plains. In western Makran, waves and wind come mainly from SSE, with significant wave heights of 1-3 meters (Etemad-Shahidi, and Saket, 2012). The climatic cycle in place today is probably not much different from that experienced by Indus cities (Kenoyer, 1998).

Sokhta Koh – A Faraway Outpost

Sokhta Koh (‘Burnt Hill’) is an outcrop of jagged, stratified hills in the Shadi Kaur (river) valley. It is located 17 km north of the coastal town of Pasni (Fig-3). The site was first surveyed by George Dales and his team including Cuyler Young, Rafique Mughal and Barbara Dales in 1960, while performing a survey of ancient coastal sites of Makran. Due to inhospitable conditions, only a day-long investigation could be conducted by the team. Limited excavations were conducted by a Franco-Italian team led by Roland Besenval and Valeria Piacentini, in 1987-88.

Fig-3. Shadi Kaur traverses 17 km from Sokhta Koh before discharging in the Arabian Sea near Pasni. The river estuary was much further inland four millenia ago.

I was successful in finding the site after several abortive attempts, and between 1994 and 2004, had the opportunity to visit it several times. These visits were limited to topographic surveys of the site, as well as photography of visible foundations of buildings, compound walls, and potsherds scattered by tens of thousands all over the place. The following account of Sokhta Koh is based on my personal observations.

Fig-4. The heart-shaped feature in the centre of the picture is known as Sokhta Koh. It is criss-crossed by several rain water channels.

Fig-5. Dimensions of Sokhta Koh

Sokhta Koh is surrounded by low hills of the Makran Coastal Range, while Shadi Kaur fed by seasonal hill torrents, grazes the site. Availability of fresh water – though limited during dry season – was perhaps an important reason for selection of the site. Location on high ground was another vital consideration as it offered protection against flooding during the short rainy season. Lastly, siting the post atop hillocks provided early warning against any intruders in the wilderness of Makran.

Buildings and Structures

The hillocks at the site are three kilometers in circuit, and the habitable remnants of the settlement towards the east occupy an area of about 17 hectares (Fig-5). The settlement is difficult to appreciate from the ground since no structures stand out in relief. The highest point on the hillocks rises to 35 m.

There is lack of evidence of an all-round walled fortification, although traces of a portion of a wall are visible; this may have been a compound wall defining functional or social spaces in a portion of the settlement (Fig-6).

In the absence of detailed excavations, little can be said about the architecture and buildings. However, as many as five dispersed clusters of the remnants of buildings are visible (Fig-7). A rough count of the visible foundations reveals that the site had anywhere between 50-70 buildings. Several circular features of about one meter diameter are visible on top of the ridges. Closer inspection revealed that these are open-pit ovens buried under rubble.

At several places, erosion by elements reveals remnants of rooms in which stratified rock was used as a base, over which mud-brick walls were raised. Absence of kiln-baked bricks, despite a well-established pottery industry, indicates that low rainfall may not have been a threat to mud structures.

It is apparent that the lay of the land does not permit buildings to be constructed on a grid plan. The foundations indicate that the buildings were aligned along the cardinal points of the compass.

Fig-6. Portion of compound wall running across centre of picture. Note potsherds strewn all over.

Fig-7. Aerial view of Sotka Koh. Up to five dispersed clusters of building remains are visible. The white patch in the centre is the portion excavated by a Franco-Italian team in 1987-88.

Fig-8. Notional reconstruction of the site showing seventy-odd buildings. Each building has been raised on a visible foundation. Several open pit ovens spewing smoke are visible. 

Pottery and Other Artefacts

At first sight, a visitor cannot fail to notice tens of thousands of potsherds strewn all over the site. Dozens of open-pit ovens on the ridges seem to suggest that Sokhta Koh had a well-established pottery-making facility. Ostensibly, it was a necessity for packaging of goods, considering the role of the site as a trading post. Fuel to fire these ovens (or kilns) most likely consisted of shrubbery and cow-dung, as the soil and weather of Makran coastal region are not conducive to forestation.

Kiln-baked terra cotta wares include pieces of large jars, pots, lids with knobs, perforated vessels and plates. The pottery is wheel-turned, with a pink or buff slip. Some of it has black-painted geometrical shapes including fish-scale and zig-zag patterns, intersecting circles, and wavy lines. Human and animal motifs are notably absent. There is evidence of potters’ marks on the rims of some jars. The pottery designs are of typical Mature Harappan type, and there are no apparent signs of hybridisation with the contemporaneous Kulli culture of southern Balochistan.

The complete absence of toys, figurines and jewellery, at least at the uppermost level, indicates a rather utilitarian environment, though it is also possible that these items may have been scavenged over the millennia. Further excavation is bound to reveal at least some elements that might mitigate the seeming socio-cultural isolation of this Harappan outpost.

During one survey, a small heart-shaped copper fragment, blued due to oxidation, was found in the surface debris. A photograph of the same was shown to Kenoyer who confirmed it as part of a square copper seal, having concentric circles in each of its four quarters (Fig-9). It was without any accompanying script, and was probably worn as an amulet.

Location of Harbour

The close vicinity of Shadi Kaur to the site leads one to assume that the harbour may have been at Sokhta Koh itself. Laden vessels could possibly navigate the river, which was wide and deep enough during the rainy season, and perhaps a few months beyond. Width and depth notwithstanding, the river meanders through perilous rock formations during its passage to the sea. A question mark thus remains about safety of navigation. Existence of ancient ruins of a small settlement known as Prahag (Fig-3), about 12 km downstream of Sokhta Koh, provides a clue. This site is strewn with potsherds similar to the ones at Sokhta Koh. It can be conjectured that this was a fishing village before the trading outpost was established at Sokhta Koh, and may well have been repurposed as a suitable harbour catering to maritime trade. Prahag may also have served as a repair and victualing facility for ships sailing from Lothal (in Indian Gujarat), on their way to and from the Gulf, and beyond.

Discussion

In the absence of dedicated excavations, definite conclusions cannot be made, despite the cursory similarities of Sokhta Koh to most of the inland Harappan sites. Future investigations could focus on answering the following questions:

(a) What was the purpose of having two coastal trading posts (Sutkagen Dor and Sokhta Koh) within 150 km of each other? Was one of the sites abandoned for some reason like an earthquake, and a second one commissioned later?

(b) Was the harbour located at Sokhta Koh, or was it further downstream at Prahag where there is some evidence of a small ancient settlement?

(c) Was there any hybridisation between Harappan and local culture in terms of dress, pottery, figurines, etc?

(d) What was the design of sea-going vessels? Maritime-themed images (if any) on seals and pottery could provide some clues.

(e) Was Sokhta Koh a non-family station? Discovery of toys and women’s jewellery could resolve this matter.

(f) Did the Harappan settlers co-exist peacefully with locals, or there is evidence of conflict between the two communities?

Site Protection and Conservation

Presently Sokhta Koh is not listed as a protected site by the Balochistan Department of Archaeology and Museums. It is located on lands held by the head of Kalmati tribe, and any change of ownership would involve a lengthy legal process, though it is understood that the head of the Kalmati tribe is amenable to any such adjustment. In the absence of any protective cover, the site is subject to irreparable harm. As an instance, a tall high-voltage electricity transmission tower has recently been erected in the middle of the site, involving extensive and careless digging. In another case, villagers from the nearby settlement of Sindi Passo moved on to the hillocks to avoid flooding after torrential rains in 2005. The squatters soon built a dozen or so huts atop the high ground, and now the small colony has a permanent presence amidst the ancient site. There is, thus, an urgent need for initiating legal process to bring the site under official purview.

Conclusion

It can be said with certainty that any study of economic and cultural contacts between Harappan and Mesopotamian Civilisations would be incomplete without inclusion of coastal trading outposts like Sokhta Koh. Excavations are bound to reveal novel artefacts that have a connection with maritime trade. These excavations can also help determine the modus operandi for effective control and supervision of thriving trade, from faraway city-states like Harappa and Mohenjo-daro. It may not be an overstatement that success in Sokhta Koh and other similar trading enterprises extended the power and influence of the Harappan polity at large.

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© Kaiser Tufail

My Genetic Journey

Not having the slightest idea about my lineage beyond my great-grandfather, I was clueless about my roots, and not wearing a Syed or Mughal hat did not help matters either. Whatever documentary records existed, were left behind in the mayhem of Partition in 1947, when my parents’ families migrated from Jalandhar in Indian Punjab. All that remained were stories, happily twisted by the bards and passed down the generations. Some years ago, I heard of DNA tests being used for genealogy, and given my high school studies in the pre-medical stream – albeit four decades ago – I could faintly figure out the basics. I quickly caught up with the latest in the field of ‘population genetics’ through two very useful books for the layperson: The Journey of Man by Spencer Wells and Seven Daughters of Eve by Bryan Sykes. The former explains the development and world-wide spread of male lineages while the latter discusses the female lineages in Europe. As I finished the books, I became sufficiently enthused to order on-line DNA tests. This entailed an inside-the-cheek scrape with sterilised cotton buds sent by the testing company; the cotton buds carrying the DNA sample were returned through courier. Six weeks later, as promised, I received the report with about as much anxiety as on a final exam result announcement!

My Patriline

My patriline (father, father’s father … and so on) was determined through what is known as a Y-Chromosome DNA test. The patriline was found to belong to Haplogroup (unique group) R2, one of several hundred male groups and sub-groups discovered so far. The group originated in  northern Pakistan about 16,000 years ago when one of its members underwent a mutation (M479) on his Y-Chromosome.  This mutation marked him as different from his Haplogroup R ancestors whose defining marker was M207, which originated 28,000 years ago. My DNA test also revealed the presence of the sub-group R2a, defined by marker M124. With five haplogroup markers identified on my Y-DNA prior to M479 (viz, R-M207, P-M45, K-M9, F-M89, and C-M168), the age of my Haplogroup R2 turns out to be 16,000 years, and the age of the sub-group R2a is 11,000 years.

The place of origin of the mutation can be determined by noting in which part of the world maximum variants of a particular haplogroup exist; this is because longer the haplogroup has been around, more time for varieties to crop up.  In case of R2, the maximum variation exists in the region of northern Pakistan (red circle on map), implying that R2 people have existed for the longest period in that region.

R2 people eventually left the mountainous north, with nine out of every ten men gradually moving to the fertile Indus and Ganges river valleys of South Asia, where this group’s prevalence today stands at around 9% of the male population. In Pakistan, 7% of all males are of R2 lineage. An unusually high R2 spike of 37% has been observed amongst the Burusho-speaking males from Hunza, albeit from a small sample population. A similarly high R2 frequency of 33% has been recently found in Kalash males. Haplogroup R2 is responsible for one of the three earliest large scale population dispersals into South Asia, and the R2 people can vie for the title of ‘sons-of-the-soil’ along with those of Y-DNA Haplogroups H and L.

While 90% of individuals belonging to Haplogroup R2 are present in South Asia, the remainder are found in Central Asia, Anatolia, and South Caucasus.  Outside of South Asia, the frequency breakdown of Haplogroup R2 within their respective population groups is as follows: Kurds 10%, Tajiks 6%, Georgians 4%, Uyghurs 4%, Uzbeks 3%, Armenians 2%, Azerbaijanis 2%, Kazakhs 2%, Kyrgyz 2% and Turks 2%. A few population groups show a disproportionately high incidence of R2; these include Sinte Roma 53%, Bartangi Tajiks 17%, and Chechens 16%.

My Haplogroup R2 also conveys a lot more about my lineage in a roundabout way. It tells me that, were I to claim holy Arab lineage (with surnames like Abbasi, Ansari, Farooqui, Hashmi, Qureshi, Siddiqui, Syed, Usmani, etc) it would be bogus, because virtually all Arabs of the peninsula belong to Y-DNA Haplogroups J1 and J2, and some I and G. Similarly, any pretensions about my being an imperial Mongol (with surnames like Baig, Barlas, Changezi, Chughtai, Mirza, Mughal, etc) would be unfounded because Mongols belong to Y-DNA Haplogroup C2. So, with no regal or sacred surname embellishing our family, it is likely that our paternal ancestors moved into South Asia as Neolithic hunter-gatherers, and eventually settled down as farmers in the Indo-Gangetic plains. They could well be the precursors of the Harappans, I'd like to imagine.  The presence of R2 deep down in Sri Lanka, South India and Bangladesh points to these early migrations, which continued over a long timespan. Much later, the R2 men were joined by R1a pastoral nomads of the Central Asian steppes, who began to migrate around the time the Harappan Civilisation started to 'de-urbanise' around 1900 BC; today, R1a presence is more pronounced in Pakistan and Northern India.

It would be so much fun to retrace the route of prehistoric migrations of my R2 ancestors, but for the present there are no clear clues. If I were to join the dots between centres of present day R2 concentrations in South Central Asia, I would see myself travelling through  Dushanbe, Hunza, Kabul, and Peshawar, and then debouching onto the Punjab plains, terminating my journey at Jalandhar.

My Matriline

My matriline (mother, mother’s mother … and so on) was determined through what is known as a mitochondrial DNA test.  The matriline was found to belong to Haplogroup J, one of several hundred female groups and sub-groups discovered so far.  Haplogroup J originated 28,000 years ago when a mutation took place in the DNA of a woman who lived in the Southern Caucasus region (red circle on map). The mutation left a tell-tale signature in her mitochondrial DNA that is carried by all of her female descendants to this day. Thus, all of them can be identified by the J ‘badge’.

Further mutations took place on the J line, which can be identified as J2 (25,000 years ago), and J1 (23,000 years ago), etc. Each of these mutations took place in the DNA of women who can be termed as the ‘first ladies’ of their sub-clans. Their identity endures almost as a bar code in the ‘J’ women of today. My maternal sub-clan is J2b2.

Haplogroup J is associated with the spread of farming and herding in Europe during the Neolithic Era (8,000-10,000 years ago). All other West Eurasian origin haplogroups were previously given to hunting and gathering.

Of the two main sub-groups, J1 takes up four-fifths of the total, and is spread mostly on the European continent. J1 is also found amongst Saudis, Yemenis, Iraqis and Palestinians. J2 is more localised around the Mediterranean, notably in Turkey, Greece, Italy/Sardinia and Spain. A surprising presence of J2 (10%) amongst the Mansi of Ob river valleys in Russia, indicates a Neolithic Phase expansion towards the Urals. East of the Caucasus, occurrence of J2 has been noted in Northern Iran at 5%, Azerbaijan at 3% and Turkmenistan at 3%.

In Pakistan, where West Eurasian lineages occur at frequencies of up to 50% in some ethno-linguistic groups, J1 averages around 5%, while J2 occurrence is very rare. Interestingly however, it is found amongst 9% of Kalash women in Northern Pakistan.



It is also likely that some of my J2 ancestral women (along with their men, of course) migrated across the Caucasus on to the steppes north of Caspian and Black Seas, which was the heartland of R1a males. While R1a men are mostly found in East Europe, a variant (Z-93) swung east and migrated into South Asia as the Vedic Aryans, starting around 2000 BC. My mother’s patriline of R1a attests to this occurrence. So that is how a few J2 women (along with their R1a men) ended their sojourn in what is now Pakistan. When and where a R2 man from my father’s side married the first ‘outsider’ J2 woman from my mother’s side will, perhaps, remain an enduring mystery.

My Ethnic Origins

The patriline and matriline tests look at a very specific and narrow segment of a person’s ancestry by testing for only Y-Chromosome and mtDNA respectively.  In each generation, only one person is of interest.  Five generations mean just five patrilineal or matrilineal ancestors (eg, father, grandfather, great grandfather, G-G-grandfather, G-G-G-grandfather). Thus, it can be seen that these two tests do not provide a comprehensive picture of one’s ethnicity, and are only meant to check for specific lineages.

The ethnic origins test looks at all 22 pairs of autosomal chromosomes. Thus, the complete genetic contribution of every generation is available. With every generation, the contributors double in number, so the genetic material for testing is vast. As an example, the fifth generation has 32 ancestors; tenth generation would have 1,024 ancestors! Theoretically speaking, tests are not limited by how far back can testing be done, so one can actually check for one’s Neanderthal great-great-great grand uncles and aunties as well!

I took an ethnic origins test to determine my ethnic composition. The results were a little surprising, but when looked at in light of my patrilineal and matrilineal origins, things did fall in place.

I am 56% South Asian, 36% South Central Asian, 4% South Caucasian and 4% West Asian. My patrilineal and matrilineal results provide clear clues in understanding these ethnic origins. The various regional ethnicities are quite easy to figure out as my father’s side moved to South Asia from Northern Pakistan, and my mother’s side moved to South Asia from West Asia including Caucasus region.  Today, the melting pot of these varied ethnicities lies in Punjab.

The ethnic origins results can be uploaded to third party ancestry sites for free, and allow a ‘second opinion’ on the raw results. I have done that, and generally, the ethnic origins are quite in agreement. Slight variations are there because different testing companies follow different testing protocols, and also, the interpretation of various geographical areas like Central Asia and West Asia is different.

The only challenge that remains for me is to discover definite migration routes followed by my ancestors into South Asia from their far-off places of origins beyond Northern Pakistan and West Asia. As the data base of tested population groups expands, joining the dots is bound to become more precise. Once that happens, I would have truly come home!

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GLOSSARY OF TERMS

Chromosome – Structure found in the nucleus of a cell, which contain the genes. Humans have 23 pairs of chromosomes (22 pairs of autosomes and two sex chromosomes).

DNA (DeoxyriboNucleic Acid) – Known as the structure of heredity, the DNA is a chemical consisting of a sequence of hundreds of millions of nucleotides found in the nucleus of cells and that contains the genetic information about an individual; DNA is shaped like a double-stranded helix.
 
Gene – A gene is the basic physical and functional unit of heredity. Genes, which are made up of DNA, act as instructions to make molecules called proteins. A complete set of genetic instructions is called a Genome.

Haplogroup – A haplogroup is a genetic population group of people who share a common ancestor on the patrline or matriline. Haplogroups are assigned letters of the alphabet, and sub-groups consist of additional number and letter combinations.

Mutation – An inheritable change that may occur in a gene or in a chromosome, and may take the form of a chemical rearrangement, or a partial loss or gain of genetic material.

Mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) – It is the DNA located in cellular mitochondria that convert chemical energy from food into a form that cells can use. mtDNA is inherited solely from the mother. mtDNA is a powerful tool for tracking ancestry through females, and has been used in this role to track the ancestry back hundreds of generations.

Nucleotides – These are the alphabets of DNA. There are four of them: adenine (A), thymine (T), guanine (G) and cytosine (C). They always go by pairs, A with T, and G with C. Such pairs are called "base pairs". The 46 chromosomes of human DNA are composed of a total of 3 billion base pairs. The Y-chromosome possesses 60 million base pairs, against 153 million for the X chromosome.  mtDNA consists of only 16,569 base pairs.

Y chromosome – One of the two sex chromosomes, X and Y. The Y chromosome passes down from father to son. Females do not receive it. Since the Y chromosome goes down the paternal line, it is valuable for genealogy studies, since in general it follows a surname line. 
 

Our Garden Birds

Without birds, where would we have learned that there can be song in the heart? [Hal Borland]

Location - Lahore, Pakistan
Garden Size - 9.8m x 4.8m (32' x 16')


A sibilant tweet heralds the arrival of the Purple Sunbird (Nectarinia asiatica), and I instantly know where to look for the tiny bird, one of the smallest in Pakistan. Our Rangoon Creeper, with its boughs laden with fragrant pink flowers, is where these birds have breakfast of sweet nectar every morning. The male, in dazzling iridescent purple tinged with cobalt blue and black, is an enchanting sight, darting about from flower to flower. Though the drab olive female has no role in attracting mates – unlike mammalia – it does have a keen eye for anything that is lustrous, purple, and flies.  Done with their high energy morning meal, the pair darts off, but I continue to hear the sharp call notes of the sunbirds until midday, flitting about in the tall Neem and Jaman trees in the neighbourhood. The sights and sounds of the sunbirds does wonders to my mood at the start of the day, so I make sure that the flowery creeper along our garden wall is in good shape, and loaded with sweet delights for the charming visitors. [Size 10 cm]

The Brown Rock Chat (Oenanthe fusca) is usually the first bird to serenade me with its sweet song at daybreak. When I first heard the tuneful aria, I hurried out to see the bird, which turned out to be quite like a female robin, but for its brown head and breast, with wings and tail shading off into a dark chocolate colour. Perched on the gate, it jerked its head as if startled, but I found this to be a recurring action every 10-15 seconds. Careful observation revealed that a gradual lifting of its tail precedes the jerky head movement, but there seems no explanation for this odd motor action. The chats are quite wary of human presence, and as I try to approach one for a closer look, it immediately flies off to the ledge.  I have seldom seen a chat perch on a tree, as buildings and similar structures are its preferred hangouts. With both sexes being alike, and their rich repertoire of calls and songs quite similar, the musical performance seems more of a synchronised duet. [Size 17 cm]

When I step out each morning, the rapid trilling whistles of the Common Babblers (Turdoides caudatus) seem to greet me, though I know they are in happy conversation with their own flock.  As I go to the gate to collect the newspaper, a party of half a dozen babblers suddenly takes flight, barely making it to the top of the boundary wall in much laboured flight. Finding me a familiar and harmless figure, they return one by one to their favourite hunting ground by the hedges. Hopping and slithering around, they forage for insects as well as berries, while a few elder members perched on the nearby Windmill Palm maintain a careful lookout, ready to sound a clamorous alarm at the sight of any predator. The babblers maintain their lively presence all day, and their whistles can be heard constantly, even though they may be out of sight in the hedges. To us, these babblers are like watchmen on the lookout for any intruders, even if these be vagrant cats or a snooping chameleon. [Size 23 cm]

The cacophony of babblers is broken by the Red Vented Bulbuls (Pycnonotus cafer) that chatter about melodiously, and quite heartily too. They often leave me enthralled with a short song or two, of several phrases.  Bulbuls are loveable birds as long as one does not have a fruit orchard, for these birds can be nasty pests.  The red vented variety is pugnacious in nature and quite possessive of its territory. It raises loud alarm calls on the sight of predators like cats, snakes or mongooses.  The bulbul’s red vent under the tail may seem amusing and confusing at the same time, but one can, however, hazard an explanation: any predatory cat would have second thoughts before attacking a Red-vented Bulbul from six o'clock, low! The red flag, thus, may be a beneficial evolutionary trait. Rather surprising is the fact that this perky bulbul is listed by IUCN amongst the 100 most invasive species, and one of three amongst all birds. It is said to harm ‘biological diversity’ amongst ecosystems, being a little bully of sorts.  Notwithstanding their unfavourable attribute, I am unabashedly pleased to see these bulbuls thriving in our garden, and would love to see them thrash about in their favourite birdbath for years to come. [Size 20 cm]

Just as I start to read the newspaper, I am startled by what sounds like the crackle of electric sparks. With no wires around as the source of the unusual noise, I find a small warbler-like bird flap onto the branches of our small Frangipani tree, and break into a resonant cheup, cheup, cheup. I have finally spotted the little Ashy Prinia (Prinia socialis), a not too regular visitor in our garden.  With both sexes having a slaty grey upper side blending into the brown wings, a white throat, and a hint of beige at the belly, they are distinct enough not to be confused with other species of prinias. The Ashy Prinia hunts for small insects in the creepers, flicking its graduated tail constantly.  Seldom staying for more than a few minutes, the prinia darts over to the neighbours’ garden, only to be replaced by its graceful cousin to continue the morning revelry. [Size 13 cm]

The delicate little Graceful Prinia (Prinia gracilis) has been visiting our garden for years, but it often takes me a while to be sure, especially when the similar looking Common Chiffchaff drops by in winters.  The prinia is sandy brown on the upper side with some streaking, and whitish at the belly, with a long tapering tail. A repetitive zit, zit, zit sounds like a gleeful notification meant for any prospective mate to join in for company; surely, another prinia alights from nowhere, and the insect hunt is on in the creepers. The song repertoire of the little bird includes what sound like trilling breeps and cherleeps to me.  It is hard to tell the cock from the hen, until I see some aerial antics by what turns out to be a male. Restless as most prinias are, the pair rapidly shoots off after a few minutes, which is all it can spare for my amusement. [Size 11 cm]

An amazing visitor to our garden is the Common Tailorbird (Orthotomus sutorius). The little bird is renowned for its remarkable ability to use its bill for stitching leaves into a nest covering that serves as a suitable camouflage against predators.  The edges of a big enough leaf are pierced with the bill and ‘sewn’ together with plant fibre to make a sort of a sheath, in which the actual nest of twigs and dry grass is built. I have not had the opportunity of seeing a tailorbird’s nest, as there are no suitable trees in our garden whose leaves it might choose for a home.  The bird has olive green upper sides and creamy lower parts, and can be easily confused with similar-looking warblers, unless one is careful to note the bird’s rusty-tinged forehead. The tail is upheld most of the time, and in some males, is said to be a bit longer than females, though there is no consensus if this is an instance of sexual dimorphism.  Hiding in the bushes, the tailorbird betrays its presence by the unmistakable territorial call, chwee-chwee-chwee. [Size 13 cm]

My earliest memories of robins were their images on the packets of Robin 'Neel' Whitener (indigo powder), a common household item used for brightening up washed white clothes. These images were, however, of the Robin Redbreast, a European species different from the Indian Robin (Saxicoloides fulicata) that is a common visitor to our garden. Sexually dimorphic, the cock robin is a majestic little bird with a tail held up emphatically, as it hops about to forage for insects. Deep brown on the upper side, with white shoulder patches, it is glossy black on the underside. The hen is beige on the neck, back and under side, and the wings are brown lacking the white patches. Both sexes have a chestnut coloured feathery tuft under the tail. The mating dance of the male is an enchanting display of dazzling plumage, and cannot fail to attract even the most unresponsive female. The robin is a fine songster, and its repertoire comprises sharp whistling warbles that are amongst the finest natural melodies one can hear in a garden. [Size 19 cm]

The Common Chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita) is a winter visitor to the Indus plains, and makes its annual presence in our garden each October, soon after the end of monsoon season.  With olive drab upper parts and creamy underside, it can be confused with the similar looking Graceful Prinia, but for a much shorter tail. Both sexes are alike in appearance, though the female is slightly smaller.  Since chiffchaffs breed in spring, their mating habits and nesting behaviour is not observable during their winter sojourn to Pakistan. The bird gets its name from its repetitive calls, though it is not as noisy as the rest of the warblers.  It usually flits about in the foliage looking for insects while flicking its wings and tail.  Annual migration to balmy climes is apparently the reason for better survival prospects, and hence an increasing population of the chiffchaff. [Size 11 cm]

One of the smaller species of doves that frequent our garden is the  Red Collared Dove (Streptopelia tranquebarica). I have often seen them sipping water from the birdbath after fluttering down from the terrace railing. Being summer breeding visitors, they are mostly seen in pairs, cooing ardently as one would expect.  Sexually dimorphic, the male has a blue-grey head, ruddy upper parts, and is paler on the underside; the slightly smaller female has beige-grey upper parts and is light grey on the underside. Both have a half-black collar at the neck. The birdcall sounds something like cocoo-coo-cocoo-coo. In our younger days, we had believed a fanciful fable about this dove. It is said that the bird had indicated to a passing caravan of Midianites that the teenaged Yousaf (Joseph, later prophet) had been cast in a well by his jealous half-brothers.  “Yousaf khoo, Yousaf khoo” (“Yousaf in the well”) is how the dove is supposed to have called out in Punjabi, which was somehow understood by the Hebrew-speaking travellers, and Yousaf was miraculously rescued! [Size 23 cm]

There could not be a more gentle-looking bird in our garden than the Laughing Dove (Streptopelia senegalensis). It is a small slim dove with a relatively long tail. Its head and upper parts are pinkish-beige with the wing edges lined by a streak of grey, and the front of the neck is mottled with black dots; the lower parts are a lighter shade of beige. Both sexes are alike. Their flight is quick and direct with the regular beats, and an occasional flick of the wings. In the breeding season, males exhibit some aerial antics by rapidly climbing up to about fifty feet, and then gliding down in a circular pattern for a perfect landing near the female.  I have found this dove to be somewhat tamer than its collared cousin, and is quite comfortable in the vicinity of humans.  It typically feeds on the ground, picking up grain and bread scraps.  Its mild calls of ohh-HO-ho-ho indeed invoke a hint of merriment and laughter. [Size 27 cm]

A splendid bird that is nowadays a rare visitor to our garden, is the Common Hoopoe (Upupa epops). With its fan-like crest erect while alighting (or when alarmed), it settles down on the grass and uses its long curved bill to probe for insects and grubs. The head, neck and under parts of the hoopoe are khaki, while the wings and square tail are banded black and white. The khaki crest is tipped black and white. Both sexes are alike in size and appearance. The hoopoe flies in a smooth wave-like motion due to its broad rounded wings that need not be flapped rapidly. It has a repetitive, and somewhat mellow, hoop-hoop-hoop call. An allegorical story in the Bible and the Quran alludes to Hud-Hud, a bird which, in conversation with Prophet Sulaiman (King Solomon, who knew the language of birds), brings tidings of a magnificent realm ruled over by the Queen of Saba (Sheba, in Yemen).  How Hud-Hud came to be identified as the hoopoe remains moot, but the story makes for a thought-provoking connection between theology and ornithology. Unfortunately, this bird of the Scriptures is decreasing in numbers due to habitat destruction and over-hunting, according to IUCN estimates. [Size 30 cm]

Early morning, several Rose-ringed Parakeets (Psittacula krameri) in frantic and somewhat noisy flight fly across our home. Some of them break their formation and alight on Neem and Jaman trees to eat ripe berries, while others continue heading south to farm houses rich in fruit trees. Over the years, their numbers have decreased due to poaching, as they are popular caged birds in South Asia. Overall these parakeets are bright green turning blue-green at the tail. They have a curved red bill, powerful enough to help themselves with most types of nuts and fruits. Males can be identified with a pink collar at the neck, turning black under the chin. Holes in tree trunks are usually chosen for nests. Along with their cousin species, the Alexandrine Parakeet, they are serious pests much detested by farmers. [Size 40 cm]

The House Crow (Corvus splendens) needs no introduction, as there are childhood stories galore about its ingenuity and resourcefulness.  A scavenger par excellence, the crow is dependent on man’s presence, and is one of the most familiar birds in any town or village.  Glossy black on the throat and upper side, with a grey nape, mantle and breast, it may not be impressive in appearance, but makes up for the lack of colour with its sociable and clever ways.  In our garden, the crow is ever ready to snatch a morsel, and knows exactly where the food sources like the kitchen are.  I have noted its brainy abilities as it drops a hard dried piece of naan in the birdbath to soften it, messing the water in the process. Once soft enough to be eaten, it flies away with the piece of bread into the tall trees for a hearty meal. Occasionally, it gets into a dogfight with its competitor, the Pariah Kite, and manages to score direct hits with its beak, being the more adroit of the two. The crow seems to have a live-and-let-live relationship with other birds that visit the garden, despite being much bigger than they are.  It will remain a welcome visitor for its presence in our garden reminds us that birds of different feathers can still flock together. [Size 40 cm]

The House Sparrow (Passer domesticus) is well known around human dwellings, and is the most common bird in our garden. It is omnivorous, so it subsists on any morsels left over from our dining table, alongside insects and seeds rummaged from the garden. The bird is considered a pest and causes significant damage to ripening wheat, though that is not our concern, mercifully. Sexually dimorphic, the male is markedly distinct from the female. The cock sparrow has a grey crown, black throat, and brown upper parts with black and grey striations. The hen has beige upper parts, also with black and grey striations. The under parts of both sexes are greyish-white. The sparrows can be seen chirping around the birdbath, quenching their thirst, and also taking refreshing baths in the hot summer season. A wary bird, the sparrow keeps its distance from man, but mixes well with most other birds, especially fellow scroungers like crows and mynas. While sparrows continue to thrive in our part of the world, their declining numbers due to use of pesticides in Europe should raise concerns in Pakistan too. It would be a pity if children had to interrupt the delightful story of the crow and sparrow doing a khichri (kedgeree) cooking project, by asking what a sparrow looked like. [Size 15 cm]

The most raucous and lively bird of our garden is the Common Myna (Acridotheres tristris). Widely known in towns and villages like the sparrows and crows, the myna is adaptable and opportunist, qualities that have helped it thrive in all environments. IUCN reports an increase in the population of this myna, worldwide. Both sexes have similar appearance and size. The neck and forehead are black, shading into a deep grey at the breast; the rest of the bird is brown, except for a white wing patch and a white tail tip. A yellow patch around the eye and yellow bill are features common to all mynas. The bird has a rich vocabulary, and always seems to be in some kind of conversation with members of its group.  The mynas are first to raise alarm on sighting predators like cats and big lizards, and continue with incessant dive attacks to scare them away. [Size 25 cm]

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Picture Credits:

Purple Sunbird (M) – Achintiya Das

Purple Sunbird (F) – Arun Bhatt

Rock Chat – Kesavan D

Common Babbler – Raju Kasambe

Red-vented Bulbul – Arthur de Wolf

Ashy Prinia – Abhinav R

Graceful Prinia – Dikkuyruklu O Hegen

Common Tailorbird – Simon Richards

Indian Robin (M) – Siddharth Damle

Indian Robin (F) – Rick Toor

Common Chiffchaff – Carlos Capitan Romero

Red Collared Dove (M) – Stanislav Harvancik

Red Collared Dove (F) – Israel G Momin

Laughing Dove – Rohit Kumar Balodia

Common Hoopoe – Jiri Bohdal
Rose-ringed Parakeet (M) - Kalyan Gantait

House Crow – Mahdi Karim

House Sparrow (M & F) – Armando Caldas

Common Myna – Viral G Pankaj

© KAISER TUFAIL. This is an open-access article published under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution Licence, which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited.