The Golden Road review: William Dalrymple’s bold new take on ancient India’s global power

In this right-wing narrative, the line separating history from mythology is often thin, if not entirely blurred. Yet, there exists a wider social awareness and even pride in the idea that ancient Indians were exemplary, particularly in trade, science, mathematics, religion, and philosophy, with their influence extending far beyond contemporary borders. However, the specifics — what made the Roman historian Gaius Plinius Secundus (23-79 AD), better known as Pliny the Elder, describe India as “the sink of the world’s most precious metals,” or how Indic religions took strong root in countries as far away as Korea and Japan — remain largely obscure.

Award-winning author William Dalrymple brings these nuances to light with his signature gripping storytelling style in his latest book, The Golden Road: How Ancient India Transformed the World. Spanning several centuries, continents, and dynasties in just a few hundred pages, Dalrymple takes readers from the Roman Empire to eighth-century Baghdad, through Afghanistan, China, and Southeast Asia. He introduces a mix of known and little-known characters, and despite the book’s rich historical sweep, he keeps the story lively, making the book as engaging as it is consequential.

‘The Golden Road’

Challenging the “seductively Sinocentric” concept of the Silk Road — something Dalrymple argues was “completely unknown in ancient or medieval times” — he writes about a thriving maritime (not on land) trade network driven by the monsoon winds, with India at its centre. This network, which he dubs the “Golden Road,” relied on the monsoon winds blowing steadily in one direction for six months before reversing. This natural system allowed Indian traders, scholars, and missionaries to reach the Roman Empire, the Persian Gulf, and the Red Sea with their exotic spices, merchandise, and gemstones, before turning toward the Mekong Delta, Indonesia, and China, bearing rich produce, religious ideas, and philosophies.

Through this Golden Road, trade flourished between ancient India and the Roman Empire to such an extent that, in the second century BCE, Callixeinus of Rhodes reported seeing “Indian women, cattle, dogs, and carts full of Indian gems paraded in a procession in Alexandria,” Dalrymple notes. In return, so much gold and silver flowed into India that the exasperated Roman historian Pliny the Elder famously described the subcontinent as “the sink of the world’s most precious metals.” Indian goods were in such high demand that two South Indian dynasties — the Pandyas and the Cheras — even sent embassies to Rome to address the imbalance of trade, which left the Romans struggling to pay their Indian debts.

These vivid details make the book feel like opening Pandora’s box, offering us insights into India’s ancient past — often overshadowed by discussions of its medieval and modern eras. Strikingly, Dalrymple strengthens these accounts with archaeological evidence, like the numerous Roman gold and silver coins that continue to be unearthed in India, bringing the past closer to the present.

Indosphere and India’s philosophical influence

As the Roman Empire declined in the fourth century, India shifted its focus to new sources of wealth, fostering large-scale trade with Java, Burma, and the Mekong Delta during the fifth and sixth centuries. Here, Dalrymple stresses the concept of the ‘Indosphere,’ a cultural zone influenced by Indic religions, languages, ideas, and arts that spread via this trade network. Ancient India’s soft power — if one may call it that — ensured that the largest Buddhist and Hindu temples were built not in India but in Java and Cambodia, such as Borobudur and Angkor Wat, respectively.

“So deeply immersed in Sanskritic culture did the elites of Southeast Asia become that they began renaming their towns and settlements after the most celebrated places of Indian mythology,” Dalrymple writes. An example is Ayutthaya, the ancient capital of Thailand, named after Ayodhya, the birthplace of Lord Rama. Although much has changed, this influence is still palpable — most notably in the name of Indonesia’s national airline, Garuda, named after Lord Vishnu’s mount.

Dalrymple devotes a large part of the book to the spread of Buddhism, both near and far —from China and Southeast Asia to Korea and Japan — perfectly illustrating the expanse of the Indosphere and India’s philosophical influence. With vivid imagery and the flair of a raconteur, he guides readers through the oldest Buddhist paintings in the Ajanta caves, the towering seats of learning at Nalanda and Taxila, the Greco-Roman-inspired Gandharan art, the travels of the Chinese monk Xuanzang, and Buddhism’s rise as the court religion of the Tang dynasty in seventh-century China, underscoring the immense intellectual influence ancient India wielded.

“What Greece was first to Rome, then to the rest of the Mediterranean and European world, so at this period India was to South-east and Central Asia and even to China, radiating out and diffusing its philosophies, political ideas and architectural forms over an entire region, not by conquest but instead by sheer cultural allure and sophistication,” he encapsulates, drawing a striking parallel between the histories of two nations — one widely discussed, and the other often overlooked.

From India to the world

While many Indians are somewhat aware of their ancestors’ pivotal contributions to modern science and mathematics — such as the invention of zero, the number and decimal systems, and advances in trigonometry and algebra — Dalrymple’s account of how this knowledge reached eighth-century Baghdad before travelling worldwide is one of the book’s most engrossing sections. He introduces us to the Barmakids, a family of Muslim viziers in the court of the Abbasid Caliphs in Baghdad, who traced their origins to Afghanistan, where they once served as rectors of a Buddhist monastery. He explains that the Barmakids were instrumental in transmitting “not only Indian astronomy but Indian numerals and mathematics passed to the Arabs, and hence to the wider world, so giving us the numerals, the decimal system and basic methods of calculation that we still use today.”

While Dalrymple excels as a historian, narrating intricate historical details with verve and clarity, he particularly shines when he dons the hats of a traveller and an art critic. While he draws extensively on the travelogues of ancient and early medieval monks and scholars, he also recounts his own journeys across India, Central Asia, and Southeast Asia, adding a personal touch to the stories of people who lived millennia ago.

He also foregrounds the nuances of ancient art, deepening our understanding of how ancient India truly was. For example, when describing the murals at the Ajanta Caves, he writes: “There is also a surprisingly international cast of characters in the murals. Recognisable among the crowds are many foreigners, including Persians, Parthians, Scythians, Ethiopians, Egyptians and even Greeks and Romans, each with distinct clothes, tunics, hairstyles, skin colours and drinking goblets.”

In the end, what is especially commendable is that, at a time when history is increasingly polarised, Dalrymple avoids aligning with either the left or the right. He confidently narrates the spread of the influence of India’s religions, while maintaining a clear distinction between history and mythology — an exercise we can all benefit from today.