Five thousand years ago, in the cities of Mohenjo-Daro, Harappa and hundreds of other sites of the 7 Rivers civilization, men and women styled their hair, adorned themselves, distinguished themselves from one another through visible and codified signs. Not empire uniforms. Not rank insignia imposed by a sovereign. Styles — freely adopted, richly varied, revealing belonging to a community.
These hairstyles and adornments are not anecdotal details. They are one of the most eloquent archaeological proofs of the cultural diversity and social cohesion of a civilization that covered more than one million square kilometres.
What the figurines reveal
The thousands of terracotta figurines found at the sites of the 7 Rivers civilization are an extraordinary archive. Not because they represent kings or gods — they do not. But because they show ordinary men and women, in the diversity of their appearances.
In The Civilization of the 7 Rivers, I note this precisely: hairstyles were very elaborate and probably distinguished different regional, linguistic or other communities. Each group had its own style.
Kenoyer, whose work on Mohenjo-Daro is the world reference, formulates it thus:
“The hairstyles of female figurines from the Indus civilization reveal a wide variety of styles, including elaborate updos and braids. Some figurines even wear hair jewelry, such as headbands or hairpins.”
This variety is not the product of uncontrolled individual fantasy. It is the reflection of an organized cultural diversity. In a civilization that stretched from Afghanistan to Gujarat, from the Punjab border to the shores of the Arabian Sea, dozens of languages and cultures coexisted. Hairstyles were a marker of identity — visible, immediately readable, making it possible to know which community someone belonged to when encountering them on a street or at a market.
Jewellery: personal refinement and subtle social status
Men and women wore jewellery — necklaces, bracelets, pendants. But not in the same way as in contemporary civilizations.
In Egypt and Mesopotamia, jewellery was also a sign of rank and power. The higher one was in the hierarchy, the more one wore, the more precious it was. The royal tombs of Ur testify to this: Queen Puabi was adorned with headdresses and jewellery of an extravagance that left no doubt about her absolute status.
In the 7 Rivers civilization, jewellery tells another story. In The Civilization of the 7 Rivers, I document the richness of the craft: lapis lazuli necklaces — that blue stone from Afghanistan, crossing thousands of kilometres before arriving —, bracelets finely carved from marine shells, ornaments in gold, copper and carnelian. Possehl confirms:
“One of the most remarkable features of the Indus civilization terracotta figurines is the variety and detail of the clothing depicted. Women often wear long, pleated skirts, while men are depicted with loincloths or dhotis.”
And Wheeler:
“Male Indus figurines are often depicted with ornaments such as necklaces and bracelets, suggesting that personal adornment was important to the inhabitants of this civilization.”
What strikes one is that jewellery seems accessible to a broad part of the population — not reserved for an elite. The excavations of even the most modest houses reveal adornment objects. This is not a civilization where only the rich adorn themselves.
Carnelian: a craft for world export
Among the materials used for adornments, carnelian occupies a special place. This red-orange semi-precious stone was worked in specialized workshops — notably at Lothal and Chanhu-Daro — with extraordinary technical mastery. Carnelian beads up to five centimetres long, drilled using techniques that have not yet yielded all their secrets to archaeologists.
These beads travelled far. Carnelian beads from the 7 Rivers civilization have been found in the royal tombs of Ur, thousands of kilometres from their place of manufacture. Carnelian was a major export product — a form of portable luxury, transportable by boat or caravan, linking the workshop of Lothal to the tomb of a Sumerian queen.
This journey of adornment — from the hand of the Gujarati artisan to the neck of a Sumerian noblewoman — is itself a metaphor for the globalization of this civilization.
The Dancing Girl: adornment as affirmation
Among all the figurines found in excavations, only one is of relatively large size: the Dancing Girl of Mohenjo-Daro, ten centimetres of bronze cast using the lost-wax technique, dating from around 2500 BCE.
In The Civilization of the 7 Rivers, I note her: she represents a naked woman, adorned with bracelets that cover almost the entirety of her left arm. Standing, hand on hip, assured gaze. The bracelets here are not mere ornaments. They are an affirmation — visible, massive, deliberate. A woman who chooses to wear her bracelets up to the shoulder says something about herself, about her community, about her way of inhabiting her body and her identity.
What the diversity of adornments says about the civilization
The 7 Rivers civilization was a plural civilization. In The Civilization of the 7 Rivers, I note that in this geographical area, dozens of different languages are still spoken today — and this was probably the case at the time. Communities with different traditions coexisted in the same cities, at the same markets, on the same commercial routes.
What holds together such diversity? Not a centralized empire that imposes its dress codes and identity markers — there is none here. Not a state religion that uniformizes practices — no state temple either. What holds this diversity together is a shared convention — the same weights and measures for trade, the same bricks for construction, the same rules of coexistence in urban spaces.
And within this common framework: the freedom to be different. To wear one’s bracelets in one’s own way, to style one’s hair according to one’s community’s codes, to adorn one’s body according to one’s own traditions.
This is perhaps the most difficult form of social organization to maintain — and the most precious. A common framework that preserves diversity. A shared identity that does not crush particular identities.
These varied hairstyles, these shell bracelets and these carnelian beads are their silent archives.
