“Take me with you!”

Amara’s voice rang in the mansion. The servants looked uncomfortable with their lady’s outrage.

“Focus on your studies, Amara,” Amos kissed her forehead. “This is just a courtesy meeting in Bombay to welcome the new Director-General.”

“You know it isn’t. There has been a year since they found the temple, and the studies show that it is older than even the Indus Valley Civilizations. That means that all we know is wrong. You will most likely be a candidate to receive the site along with so many others.”

“The site is unstable; several teams of archeologists have already been buried and even more have gone missing. It is too dangerous even if I were to go there,” Amos said, holding her firm. “I lost your father to a dangerous dig. I don’t intend to do the same mistake again. You will stay here.”

He turned to Milana, his eyes gentle. “I apologize for the hasty journey, lady Mahadevi.”

“Don’t be silly, Amos. Just safely return to me,” she gave him a faint smile, but the worry was plastered onto her face like moss on a stone.

“I will,” Amos kissed her hand. “You have my promise.”

He patted Amara’s head one last time before rushing out, thanking the servant for opening the door for him.

“I should have gone with him! If only to introduce myself to what will be my colleagues in the future. Many of my classmates will be there,” Amara said, her eyes flashing in frustration.

“They drove there, Amos will travel by train and you-“

“Aren’t allowed on trains. There is something disturbing when we Indians built the damn thing but aren’t allowed on it,” Amara said, her eyes looking up as she couldn’t stand the watch her mother, but she heard her sigh.

“That is not his fault.” Her mother’s voice was faint, but the uncertainty underneath was there. Amara knew her mother was an outsider. She had been Varanasi’s most outstanding lady when her father was alive, then he died and left all to her. Amos took care of them both and Amara has watched the attitudes of those around go from admiration to disgust as she became closer to Amos. Her own people saw her as a traitor while the Brits never saw her as one of them. She sacrificed a lot. Amara could never understand why Amos hasn’t married her yet, but her mother hadn’t pushed so neither should she.

“I know, it is just frustrating. I feel trapped,” Amara said. Her mother watched her, not saying anything for a while.

“You probably always will be.”

Eyes darted to her mother, “what?”

“My little girl, you haven’t chosen an easy path. A woman isn’t welcomed among the men. At best you will be a teacher in history, at worst you won’t even be allowed to do that.”

“I know, but what am I suppose to do about it other than to fight the injustice.”

“You can scream all you want at the ocean, but it won’t part for you,” Milana smiled, stroking her cheek. “You aren’t a child anymore. It is time for you to get married.”

“Ma!”

Milana raised her hand, stopping the incoming protests. “I have waited long enough, if you won’t choose, then I will do so for you.”

“But my education-“

“Can continue, I will take it into consideration but I’m old, Amara. It would do me good if I knew you are taken care of.”

“I can take care of myself,” Amara clenched her teeth, wanting to scream out her frustration.

“Not in this world. I’m sorry, little monkey, but I at least want you to consider the men I have chosen for you,” Milana said, rising with grace from the sofa before exiting the hallway. Amara made a fist, feeling the blood go to her head. Have chosen? Not will choose? Her mother has already decided and just neglected to tell her. Like her opinion did not matter, like the way she has chosen to live her life was all for nothing.

Looking up to where her mother had left, Amara also decided. She would leave for Dhubri. Tonight.

*****

“This is a really bad idea.”

Vihaan Bakshi’s thick Indian accent came over the rustling sound of the automobile he had borrowed from his teacher Bartholomeus Lewis. The road was dark as they went, steady following it towards Dhubri. They had gone all night and the sun is slowly rising on the horizon.

Vihaan has reminded Amara all night that this was a bad idea, while Amara was all over the place in excited exaltation over going to her first archeological dig. “So was allowing me to write your essays while you were out drinking with your friend, but if you of course want to come clean to Mr. Lewis…”

Vihaan flinched, muttering in Hindi while not allowing his eyes to leave the road. “You are a terrible woman. No wonder you aren’t married yet.”

“I ain’t married yet because I keep running away before my mother gets the chance to selling me off like a cow.”

“A cow would be preferable over you,” Vihaan muttered, avoiding Amara’s sharp glance.

“You do realize that you are one of my mother’s candidates right?”

Vihaan flinched so hard that they almost drove off the car. “Wait, why? Is that why she kept inviting my parents and Mr. Lewis over for dinner?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Amara muttered, grinning at Vihaan. ”See, you gain something as well by me running away.”

“Gain something my ass-“

“Language, there is a lady here.”

“Really? Where?” A hit over the head made Vihaan grimace but he continued anyway, well used to get hit over the head. “You do realize that you are running away with me, right? If we ever get back I will be forced to marry you if to save your nonexistent honor.”

“Or they just assumed we eloped,” Amara pointed out which made Vihaan groan.

“That isn’t better!”

“Never said it was,” Amara leaned closer to the window, as she started to see a shape take form on the horizon. “Is that-“

“Yes, that is Bhubri. Let’s find a hotel and-“ Vihaan’s dark eyes went wide as the city came closer. There wasn’t much left but stone and rumble. A year has gone by but the city was still in repairs after the earthquake.

“I guess we will be staying with the archeological team,” Amara said, eyes going to the cliff that once had been the lake.

“You can’t stay there. The place is crawling with men!”

“The horror! Is there no place that isn’t infested with those vermin?” Amara teased, her eyes wide in mock disgust.

“Hilarious, we still cannot let you sleep with a bunch of men. Your mother will kill me.”

“Your innocence is refreshing, Vihaan. My mother will kill you not matter what you do or do not do. Besides, I will not sleep with a bunch of men. I will sleep with you.”

“No, no, no,” Vihaan shook his head with such vigor that Amara feared his head would fall off if he continued. “I have still hope that I can avoid getting married to the crazy lady of Varanasi. You are not staying in my tent.”

“It’s adorable that you think you will have a choice,” Amara looked at Vihaan with pity in her eyes as they drove up to the other cars parked by the cliff. Tents were set up all around the cliff and Amara could see some people praying by the sharp edge. Getting out, she was met with hundreds of people moving around as the sun had started to rise. None paid any attention to them and had started to move down the steps made to reach the temple.

Amara had to restrain herself for not rushing down herself, eager to lay eyes on the infamous site. Vihaan had also gotten out but unlike Amara, this was not his first site. He was protégé to Bartholomeus Lewis and had been to several sites with his teacher who currently had sent him here to take notes on the progress. 

Catching the attention of an older man in his thirties who was shouting out instructions, Vihaan waved. “ Batra!”

“Bakshi! We didn’t expect you until a few days later. Mr. Lewis hasn’t arrived yet,” the man said in Hindi, coming over with a wide smile.

“Mr. Lewis sent me over to take notes to, quote, ensure that this bunch of stones deserve his attention,” Vihaan said with a grimace.

“Still won’t leave his comfortable mansion to do the dirty work?”  Batra asked, looking over at Amara with a frown.

“He hates the heat, says that if the noisy Indians won’t kill him then the heat will,” Vihaan replied, waving over Amara. “This is Amara Mahadevi. The protégé of Mr. Graycrest and daughter of-“

“Kabir Mahadevi. I remember him. Your father had quite a reputation and his country will miss his contribution,” Batra said, nodding at her with a gentle smile.

“ Thank you. Mr. Batra.”

“Call me Arjun.”

“You never asked me to call you Arjun,” complained Vihaan as he followed Arjun as he waved them to follow. They walked toward what seem to be the living quarters of the archeologists as the entire place was covered in large tents.

“That’s because you aren’t a beautiful lady,” Arjun snorted, turning his eyes toward someone giving out instructions. “Miss Moore!”

Amara’s eyes turned wide as she saw a woman in her thirties, with dark blond hair and brown eyes turn to them. Her skin had grown tanned under the sun but her face was still beautiful. It had taken Amara a few moments to notice that she was a woman as she was dressed in pants and a large white shirt.

The woman walked briskly over, her face focused on her surroundings before turning over at Arjun. “What can I help you with… Mr. Batra is it?” Her accent was American which surprised Amara even more. She has never encountered an American before.

“Correct, ma’am,” Arjun gestured towards Amara. “This is Amara Mahadevi, she is the student of Mr. Amos Graycrest, an archaeologist of notable reputation here in India. Since there aren’t any other women here, I would ask if you would allow her to share your tent.”

Amara gave her a polite smile and hoped that she didn’t look too wild, but considering that she had just spent a couple of hours in a car, she was far from looking her best. Miss Moore perused her, especially her western dress with a frown. “Those won’t do, hun. Trust me, you do not want to run around a dig in a skirt and heels. It will kill you, speaking from experience, I tell you.”

Nodding toward her tent, “Follow me, I’m sure I have something more suiting for an excavation.”

Vihaan seems to want to protest but Amara only waved him off and ran after Miss Moore who had walked away briskly, not even waiting for an answer. Entering the tent, Amara was faced with an array of artifacts, many of them not even from India.

“This is?” she asked, pointing at a golden medallion in the form of an eye.

“An artifact from Egypt,” Miss Moore explained without looking back as she rummaged through her clothes. “From the tomb of Tutankhamun.”

“Oh, what does it stand for?”

“It is the Eye of Wadjet, or more known as Eye of Horus or Ra. It is a protection charm, said to disease and evil spirits,” miss Moore said, holding up a shirt against Amara, seemingly to measure her up.

“A strange amulet to have, miss Moore,” Amara noted and grabbed onto the clothes miss Moore handed over.

“Call me Helene, and maybe but considering that many people on the excavation ground on the tomb of Tutankhamun faced injury while I came out unscathed… Well, I see it as a lucky charm and always bring it with me,” Helene said and put the amulet on, stroking it for a while before turning toward Amara who had changed. “That’s better, you won’t get as many footsore like that.”

“Thank you. It is strange that you are here in India then.”

“Not really, I focus on studying the oldest ruins we can find in hope of finding the first civilization. Formerly looking at sites in Egypt and Nubia, then going to the ruins of Uruk, thinking I might have found the oldest city. The moment I heard that this place, well, it dates before the Indus Valley civilizations which are around 3300 BCE. Which can put this place as a contender for oldest civilization on earth,” Helene explained gathering her brushes and tools. “Of course, we first have to determine if it is a civilization or just a building.”

“And what have you found?”

Smiling, Helene nodded to the exit. “Follow me and I will show you.”