Our names using Indus script
As a concluding step in my exploration of the Indus script, I attempt a symbolic representation of my own family names—both as an experiment in interpretation and for the sheer delight of engaging with these ideograms. It is important to note that Indus symbols are generally interpreted as ideograms or logograms. While some signs may have carried phonetic or syllabic associations, others do not function as direct sound‑symbols. They convey ideas rather than phonetic values, which makes it difficult to reproduce exact words in the way alphabets do. Yet, when interpreted correctly and within the proper context, the symbols can still guide us toward the intended meaning
My wife's name is Saranya. Saranya is often invoked in devotional contexts as Devi or Triambaka, as in the Devī Stotram (“Saranye Trayambake Gauri”). The sequence of Indus signs (fig 1) consisting of vertical strokes (representing Triyam or “Three”) followed by an arrow (interpreted as Amb(a)/Amma or “mother”) has already been understood as Triambaka. By association, this same symbol can also be linked to Saranya. Originally, the sign denoted Mootha-Amma (elder mother) or Chetta, but in later readings it was misinterpreted and translated into Sanskrit as “three mothers.”
As her husband, I would be represented by the Indus warrior figure, read as Kandan. Kaanthan, denoting the husband as the foremost male member of the household, appears to have its origins in this word, as noted previously. So when placed to the right of the Triambaka symbol (refer fig 2 below) , this pairing conveys “Saranya’s husband”—that is, myself.
My elder son is Govardhan. Govardhan is associated with Krishna and pastoral abundance, recalling the mountain he lifted to shield the people of Vṛndāvana from Indra’s wrath. The name itself conveys ‘one who increases cattle wealth.’ Symbolically, this can be represented by a crab sign (linked to idaya/aya, or cowherd) followed by the mountain symbol (fig. 4), evoking Ayar‑Malai—the ‘hill of cowherds.’ This motif is reflected in early Tamil traditions, such as Akanānūru (verse 70), which states: ‘Ayar malai mēl idaiyar vāzhum’ (‘On Ayar Malai, the cowherds dwell’). Together, these symbols capture the essence of Govardhan.
For greater precision, the crab symbol may be enclosed by four vertical strokes (fig 3), indicating the epicene plural suffix ‘‑ar,’ denoting Ayar, as in forms like avar and devar. Strikingly, the combination in Fig 4 is attested repeatedly in the Indus script, which is why I prefer to use it for Govardhan.
My younger child, Ammalu, may be interpreted as “the beloved of Amma (mother).” Symbolically, this could be rendered as an arrow (amb(a)) followed by the “person” sign, together suggesting Amma‑al or Ammalu.
This exercise is not intended as a definitive decipherment but rather as a creative exploration of how familial identities might be expressed through the ideographic vocabulary of the Indus script.
Tony Joseph’s Early Indians tries to understand the Indus Valley Civilization and the earliest peoples of the subcontinent by examining the genetic layers that shaped them. Genetic research shows that the Harappans emerged from a long blend between ancient Iranian‑related farmers and the earliest settlers of the region — the people we can call proto‑Dravidians. Genetic Studies also indicate that after the Harappan urban system declined, groups with Harappan ancestry (Dravidians) moved southward, a movement that aligns with certain linguistic parallels found in Dravidian languages. Because of this southward spread, if one wants to search for cultural or linguistic echoes of the Indus Valley world, Kerala and Malayalam become especially meaningful places to look, as this region remained relatively protected for millennia by the mountains on one side and the sea on the other — a landscape where old memories could quietly endure
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