The Translator by the River

At Prinsep Ghat,

I found a strange sight today –

An old man, with long wavy locks

And thick black glasses

Was buried deep in a bunch of papers

Full of scribbles, notes and thoughts

‘Dada, office work? By the Hooghly?’

He gave me a long blank look

‘No, no – translations of a long-lost language

Here,’ and he showed me photos

Old clay seals and bricks

And metalwork

‘Dholavira, Lothal, Rakhigarhi

I have them all,

Just a few more connections

And the Indus Script will be won,’

‘What? Mohen-jo-daro by Ganga?’

I was amused

He kept staring at me,

His thoughts lost elsewhere

‘Maybe I should cave in to you lot

Use your large language models,’

I laughed, ‘You are cracking languages

Here by the river?’

‘Why not?’ he smiled,

‘The air of the river is magical –

Years back, I had decoded

Kharosthi and Brahmi –

And it was all here,’

He made it sound as easy as crunching nuts

I laughed aloud,

Then walked to the river

When suddenly his words came back

But raised more questions,

Brahmi, Kharosthi,

Piyadasi, Ashokan edicts?

‘Hey,’ I turned around

An empty bench

And faraway, a shadow

Dissolving in the distance

And just like that, James Prinsep

Disappeared in Calcutta’s dusk…

20^th June, 2026

James Prinsep was a 19th-century British antiquary and scholar who worked at the Calcutta Mint and later became deeply involved in studying India’s ancient inscriptions. While stationed in Calcutta, he helped decipher the Brahmi and Kharosthi scripts, unlocking the meaning of Ashokan edicts and effectively opening up a written history of ancient India that had been unread for centuries. His work laid the foundation for understanding India’s early epigraphy and linked scattered archaeological finds into a coherent historical narrative.