ANAMIKA

'(The Blog) With No Name', perhaps best described as a stream of notes and thoughts - 'remembered, recovered and (sometimes) invented'.

Monday, September 23, 2024

To Egypt, with Love … and Hope

Many years ago, I wrote this post: To Russia, with love around the much-loved childrens' classic 'Chuk and Gek'. Now is the time to talk about a little Malayalam jewel from 1979 - 'Pyramidinte Nattil' ('In Pyramid Land') by M P Parameswaran.

Parameswaran, now in his late eighties, is a nuclear scientist turned science activist and accomplished science popularizer. Among his most acclaimed works is a deft translation of Landau et al's 'Physics for Everyone' into Malayalam. IMO, the seemingly now-little-remembered 'Pyramid...' is just as much of a masterpiece. A recreation of life in Pharaonic Egypt of c 2500 BC as seen (mostly) thru the eyes of a young boy Abu and his family (parents Inothep and Osiria, big brother Ahmos, kid sis Manetha), it was part of the 50-volume series 'Science Cream'. I don't know if the work is an out-and-out original piece or the Mal adaptation of some foreign classic. And I also remember seeing a Tamil translation of this work Chennai some time in the 1990s.

That would be enough of intro! Here are some brief passages, in free translation:
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"Dong...dong...dong!!" went the village bell, very loud and clear. It was morning. Abu and father were eating breakfast. Mother was busy making flat breads for them and Manetha was helping her. But when the bell went, they left everything and ran out. A large crowd had gathered in the village square - men with shaven heads and wearing only short knee-length kilts, women in long neck-to-ankle gowns and with eyelashes and lips painted, children... A royal herald stood in the middle. He presently announced: "His majesty's astronomers have seen the transit of the Morning star that marks the beginning of a new year. So folks, rejoice and make merry. Happy new year!"

New year! The Nile would soon begin to flood. It would be soon time to toil in the fields; no more rest and torpor. But yes, for the day, let's rejoice!

Abu ran up to the loft and picked up an earthen jar. Everyday since the star was seen last, he had been dropping a small pebble into it - an 'experiment' brother Ahmos had suggested. Now is the time to count those pebbles. Abu counted and double-checked. Amazing, there were exactly 365 of them, just as big bro predicted!
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Next day at day break, Abu and his dad set out for Memphis. They walked to the river bank, the latter leading two goats by ropes. "Out there, I will barter these goats for a bronze ploughshare. We also need some sharp knives" said Inothep.

"Will we get to meet Brother?" Abu asked. "Difficult!" said Inothep. "I have plenty work in the bazaar and Ahmos, he would be too busy to spend time with us. He is after all, a scribe with Lord Amanmet!"

They loaded their little papyrus boat with the goats and started off. The river was a very crowded waterway. The jetties were busy with slaves loading and unloading grain and stuff from and onto boats. They could be heard singing:

"The boats, all are laden with barley, barley!
But the Master still makes us toil and toil!
As if our bones, they are made of copper, copper!"


The life of a slave is tough - however hard they work, their masters aren't satisfied!

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Abu walked north from Memphis, down the crowded main road to Giza. Up ahead, he caught sight of a group of of scribes: they were walking briskly and confidently, paintboxes dangling from their necks. Were they .... part of Amanmet's workshop? Abu caught up with the group and asked one of them, tentatively.

"Are you scribes working for Lord Amanmet?"

"Well, what do you want?"

"My elder brother is a scribe with Amanmet. I am going to meet him"

"And what's bro's name?"

"Ahmos"

"O, you Ahmos's brother! Come along, we will take you there. But well, today, Ahmos would be busy... with festivities at Saqqara - you know, today is the feast of Amanmet's late father and Ahmos is in charge of the arragements."

"And what is in the packets you are carrying?"

"That's charcoal and color for the writing ink. What say, do you too care to be a scribe like your bro?"

" 'Care'?! These guys may be mocking me gently." Abu thought. After all, who wouldnt' want to be a scribe? Only boys from big families get to learn writing. As for Ahmos, he had got his chance under circumstances that were rather...er, special!
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Abu remembered the days - it was so long ago that the Nile had flooded thrice since then - when the family waited in extreme anxiety and despair for news of Ahmos who had got lost while on a trip to Memphis. The fear was whether slave contractors caught and took him to work on the pyramid. Indeed those agents were known to grab any able-bodied young fellow they saw loitering alone. Pyramid-building is a huge undertaking, so huge that no number of workers would suffice; there are thousands and thousands of slaves captured from Nubia, Lybia, even Upper Egypt but they aren't enough. And since work started, the astronomers have seen the celestial Transit 12 times and things are nowhere near completion. And pharaoh Menakaure has begun to grow old(*) - and that has necessitated forcible recruitment of laborers from among the local peasantry and their boys.
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An hour of walking and their procession approached Saqqara. Now, on both sides of the road were buildings made of white stone. They had no windows and looked like neat blocks. These were Mestebes, where the souls of the Dead come to rest. Many streets cut across the main road and all of them were lined with mestebes as well. Saqqara looked a lot neater and well-ordered than Memphis but then, this is a city only for the dead. In the distance, under the white heat of the sky glistened the huge pyramids, resting places of Pharaohs.

They halted in front of a mestebe. A priest dressed in leopard skin came out. He said to Ahmos: "we have finished chanting the sacred formulae. The food can be laid out". Those carrying food baskets stepped in, Abu in tow. Inside the mestebe, it was dark. Soon, a ceremonial table was set with dishes. The priest began a prayer: "O Soul of noble Shenmet, please come hither from your secret dwelling in the netherworld via the invisible door. Your noble son has brought you a sumptuous repast. Please partake of it!"

Abu was scanning the pictures drawn on the walls. There were also inscriptions. He asked Ahmos: "What's this?"

"That is the picture of a bee. It stands for 'king'"

"And what is this round thing?"

"That is the sun. It could also mean 'daytime'"

"Here seems to be a longish passage. Can you read it out for me?"

Ahmos began slowly and carefully: "From emperor Menkaure to Lord Shenmet, May you, virtuous Shenmet, be granted a peaceful and easy passage along the grand avenue of noble souls to the realms of kings and gods!"
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Pepi's Grandpa was full of stories. Descended from a long line of expert masons, he was right-hand man to Thutotep, the designer of Khafre's pyramid. Thutotep, in turn was a direct descendent of the great Imhotep, architect of Khufu's Great Pyramid.

"Listen carefully, boys! The only way to get into Khafre's pyramid is from the north. One level above the ground on the north face, you can count, east to west, 96 massive blocks of stone, each of them more than a man's armspan, set in mortar. However, from the east end, after the 43rd stone are seven much smaller stones. The fifth of them can be loosened out by scraping out the earth binding it and since there are four of you, you could pull it off. A narrow passage will open up before you and goes down almost 200 steps; at the end you will be in a big and empty hall. Vertically above this hall at a height of thirty fathoms is the Pharaoh's burial chamber. You simply can't get there! But there is a way to get into some other chambers. On the easten wall of the hall you will find a wooden peg. Knock it off and you will begin to hear sand trickling out. Then climb 30 steps back up the way you came and turn left and wait. After a while, the big block right in front will simply move aside and open up another passage. On the western wall of the hall there is another wooden peg. Don't touch it; if you loosen it, the way you came down will get blocked and you will be trapped inside forever! It will be pitch dark inside the pyramid so keep some oil-soaked wicks ready. So, go, get in and look around but don't pick anything, don't disturb anything!"

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"Can you read what you just wrote?" Abu eagerly asked his brother. Ahmos began:
"To escape from ceaseless labour and to rise in the bureaucracy, master writing! A Scribe has won total deliverance from manual labour! The difference between the hand that wields the writing pen and one pulling a boat's oars is stark. I have seen the metal-worker toiling away at his furnace - his fingers, they are rough and harsh like the claws of an alligator and from him rises a stink like that of fish-eggs. The lot of one who works with a chisel is a lot worse than a farmer's - the tree is his field and the chisel, the pickaxe. The mason, he works with all sorts of stone. His hands are scarred and at the end of each day, he is worn out! The weaver's life is worse than a woman's - all day, he has to squat with knees poking into his belly. He has no access to fresh air. And if he has to see sunshine, he has to give bread (bribes) to his supervisor.
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The bugle would sound soon. Inothep knew that and so did Aton and everyone else. The harvest is over; and soon, the Pharaoh's governor would arrive, to collect the royal share. Everyone was assembled in the village square. The governor duly arrived, borne in a litter. The bugle went and the governor stood up and addressed the villagers:

"Farmers of the Nile valley, his majesty is pleased with your efforts! We have come to congratulate you and to appreciate the fruits of your labour"

"And to make off with em!" muttered Tuttu.

"Hush!" said Aten. "keep quiet if you don't want to be caught and taken away as a slave laborer at the Pyramids!"

The names of the farmers were called out. Soon, it was Inothep's turn:

Inothep knelt before the governor. The scribe read from his ledger: "Inothep owns a 200 cubit square plot. So, he should have produced 30 hekets of maize and 60 hekets of barley"

The governor muttered something to the scribe who added: "What's this? Just 10 hekets of barley? If you declare a lower yield than you got, the punishment will be severe!"

"My lord, we won't lie. As you know, there was a wave of locust attacks. Our crop was ruined." said Inothep. "It is will great effort that we could salvage even this much..."

"Of course, we know about locusts and stuff! But this much of grain simply won't do; we need to feed the Pharaoh's soldiers. And we need to feed those who build his majesty's pyramid! So you guys have to work much harder!"

"Fiddlesticks!" thought Abu. "these bullies, they just come and rob us! At least Dad had the courage to put the real facts in front of the gov!"
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(*) Elsewhere (in Mali's Balakathamalika, to be precise), I have read a story of an astrologer predicting only six more years of earthly life for Mycerinus (Greek name of Menkaure) and the Pharaoh deciding to keep all lamps in his palace burning thru all nights and trying to stay awake and active as long as possible each day so that his remaining lifespan would effectively get doubled! I dunno if he actually died at the predicted time. If he did, the prophecy would be a candidate for the most accurate self-fulfilling prophecy ever - chronic and severe sleep deprivation might have caused the hapless pharaoh to burn himself out prematurely!

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