Life in the Indus Valley by David Mollet
Today, the Indus Valley is a barren desert, broken only by the winding River Indus. A long time ago, when the land was first settled, the Indus Valley was a lush and fertile jungle. It was the home of all manner of wild beasts.
This story tells of that time, many years ago, when the Indus Valley was fertile and prosperous. Indatri, had been born and raised in the town of Mohenjo-Daro. When she was 12 her father,who was a trader, moved his family to the coastal city of Balakot.
Balakot was a port on the main trade route. Boats arrived there daily. They brought goods to the city from far afield. Once unloaded the boats would be quickly filled with a new cargo and were ready to continue their journey.
A New Beginning
Indatri awoke and opened her eyes. For a moment she didn't know where she was. She then remembered, she was in her new bed, in her new room. Her first thought was that she was glad the long journey was over.
It was several weeks since she and her family had said good-bye to their home town of Mohenjo-Daro. Together they had started the 250 mile journey down to the coast. It had been a slow journey for they had with them everything they owned. Their possessions were packed into bullock carts, and they could travel only as fast as the slowest cart.
The Decision Explained
Although a beautiful new house awaited them in the coastal town of Balakot, Indatri could not shake off the sadness of leaving her friends and everything that was familiar. She did not blame her father for moving. It had all made perfect sense when he had talked to them some months ago.
“Your grandfather has become too old to oversee the coastal trade route,” Avara explained to Indatri. “I must move to the coast and take over that part of the family business.”
“Your brother, Datri, will stay here in Mohenjo-Daro to take care of the land routes, and your uncle will stay in Harappa to deal with the inland trade.”
Thoughts of Home
Trade was very important in the Indus Valley. It was second only to the farming that thrived around Mohenjo-Daro.
Indatri would often escape with her pet dog into the fields around her home. She had to keep him close to her because he loved to nip the camels’ ankles or chase the cattle into the wheat fields. Fields of wheat and barley stretched as far as the eye could see, and melons, sesame, field-peas and dates grew in abundance.
“Will I ever stop longing for my home land?” Indatri thought to herself.
Just then she heard the heavy rumbling of bullock carts passing the house.
“This is a very early hour for street traffic,” she said to herself.
Houses in the Valley
Indatri could not peer out of a window to check on what was happening, for the house had no windows facing onto the street. Her new house was much the same as the one she had left in Mohenjo-Daro and similar to her uncle’s house in Harappa.
It was quite large, and in the center was an open courtyard. Stairs led up to a flat roof. With a bucket and long rope the family brought up water from a well in the courtyard and in the bathroom there was a drain into an underground sewer system.
Running through the silent house in her bare feet, Indatri made her way up to the flat roof. She peered over the low wall to the street below. There she saw a string of bullock carts. In the soft light of dawn she could see that wicker baskets filled the carts and hung from every side. What she saw inside the baskets made her gasp with horror. There were birds in every basket, mainly black crows and all pecking and struggling to get free. She had never seen anything like this in Mohenjo-Daro.
“Those poor birds,” she thought, “This is an awful place. I shall never get used to it.”
Mohenjo-Daro
At that moment she felt an overwhelming urge to be back in her home city. In her imagination she was there, climbing the thirty foot mound to the great citadel.
She remembered the first time her father had taken her to the public buildings and they had looked down on the huge, surrounding, brick wall. The citadel was the center of religion and government for Mohenjo-Daro’s 35,000 people. In the middle of the citadel was the Great Bath. It was a huge, deep bath with steps leading into it. The people used it for religious purposes because they believed water to be a great purifier.
Indatri remembered the great granary in Mohenjo-Daro where the grain was stored. It was a huge building made of thousands of fired bricks and could hold enough food to feed the entire city for a long time. Closing her eyes, Indatri could see herself running through the wide main streets of Mohenjo-Daro. The main streets ran from north to south. There were smaller streets that ran from east to west and even narrower lanes that divided the houses.
A Common Plan
“All our cities are alike, Indatri,” her father had once told her. “Our valley has a strong central government that rules all the cities. When the cities were first built, they were all planned by the same people,” he explained.

“Could it be then, that Balakot will be familiar?” she wondered.
At that moment the squawking of the birds brought her back to the present. Racing down the stairs and out of the house, she decided to find out what was to happen to the poor creatures. Following the carts she found herself heading towards the seashore. She passed the many craft workshops not yet open for business and soon reached the waterfront.
A Discovery
Sadly she watched as the bird catcher loaded the baskets on to the various ships that were tied up along the front.
“You poor birds,” she whispered to herself. “So that’s what happens to you. Served up for meals on board ship during the long voyages.”
Although Indatri was used to a meal of chicken, the thought of these birds of the air caught and kept captive upset her. With tears in her eyes she turned for home. In the light of the morning she had to admit that the sight of her new house did feel comforting. The house, like nearly every building in the cities of the Valley, was made of baked clay bricks with strong wooden beams to support the flat roof. It was a familiar sight. It could almost have been her old home.
Beautiful Possessions
“Where have you been?” Yamuru, her mother, called, hardly stopping from the task of unpacking. Yamuru was safely storing her most precious possessions. She was carefully unpacking her best pottery. She was so pleased that the fine pots with their beautiful designs had not been broken on the journey.
Arranged on a colorful cotton cloth were all sorts of bright and beautiful beads and a beautiful necklace made of turquoise and lapis lazuli. She would pack these into little wooden boxes. All the women wore jingling bangles, sparkling earrings, and brightly beaded necklaces. Yamuru would often wear her hair in braids, or, if it was a special occasion, she would put it up in a fancy headdress and look as beautiful as the richest lady.
“I have seen such a sad thing,” said Indatri and she poured out her story. To her surprise her father threw back his head and laughed heartily.
Returning to the Waterfront
“Come,” he said to his daughter. “Get yourself something to eat and come with me. I have to meet with the captains of some of the ships down at the waterfront.”
Avara went in search of his seal and carefully arranged it around his neck. Every trader had to have one. It was like a signature. Avara’s seal, a horned bull, looked very fine resting against his colorful cotton robe. It showed his importance in the community and Indatri walked proudly beside her father. The waterfront was even more crowded than earlier.
“The ships are quite different to the flat-bottomed boats we used to see on the river in Mehenjo-Daro, father,” said Indatri.
“You are right, child. That is because these ships go out to sea,” her father replied.
“Some of these ships have traveled west along the coast collecting copper from Afghanistan; others further south to India for gold.
These are the ships that have traded timber, ivory and pottery in Mesopotamia and silver and turquoise in Persia. Many have come from the port of Lothal and are calling in at Balakot before heading further west.”
Indatri Learns the Truth
Avara stopped to talk to one of the captains. Indatri knew her father had repeated her story to the captain because he came over, laughing, just as her father had.
“The last thing you should do, young lady, is to fret over these birds,” the captain said to her. “We treat them with the utmost care for there are times when these creatures are our lifeline.”
Indatri looked at him questioningly.
“We never sail without our birds on board,” continued the captain. “When a mist comes down at sea, or we lose sight of land, it can be frightening. We release one of our birds and it immediately flies towards the nearest land. If we follow the path of the bird we will always head safely home.”
Indatri smiled with relief. She now knew that these birds would eventually fly free.
Things Look Brighter
“Come, my daughter, we must return home,” Avara said. “My work is finished for today.”
Indatri began to see Balakot in a new light.
“Maybe this will not be such a bad place to live,” she thought. “It might even prove to be more interesting than Mohenjo-Daro.”

A terracotta amulet discovered by archaeologists in Mohenjo-Daro shows a representation of a ship together with "compass birds." |