Free Finding Zero by Amir D. Aczel

Perhaps the convention on using a more terse form has something to do with a different kind of logic. In the case of the numerals, a similar phenomenon is evident. There are very ancient Indian documents that, if dated correctly, could probably demonstrate Indian primacy in the invention of numbers. But most of them—unless they are inscribed in stone—are undateable or undated. In the case of copper or bronze plates, of whichmany survive, the dates are usually placed off the main text, to the side, and could very well have been faked or added later. They are generally untrustworthy.
    I went in search of one such plate, the Khandela inscription, which if found could shed important light on the story of the further development of the numerals in India. It might have been dated correctly and in a verifiable way—but nobody knew if it really existed. Still, I felt that I had to make an effort to find it.
    Rajasthan. The name evokes images of desert horsemen in multicolored dress galloping on barren hills; fortresses by deep mountain lakes; mounted elephants marching in line to a fairy-tale palace; and of course snake charmers. From Khajuraho I flew to Jaipur, in eastern Rajasthan, in search of a copper plate I was not at all sure existed. While the Khajuraho airport is just a small airstrip and a hut, Jaipur’s airport is larger and even has a restaurant or two. The city is on India’s “golden triangle” tourist route, and the increased traffic has spurred recent growth.
    Arriving late at night—later than expected due to dense fog in Delhi, where I had to change planes from Khajuraho—I sat inside the arrivals hall and looked out through the glass wall at people waiting to greet passengers. Then I caught sight of the limo driver holding a sign with my name; he had been sent by the hotel to pick me up.
    In Rajasthan, for the price of an urban hotel room in any major city in the world, you can stay in a palace. And that’s what I did—for my lodgings in Jaipur, I had booked the former coach house of the palace of the maharaja of Jaipur, which the presentruler rents out along with the entire palace with all its suites and rooms. The coach house was a bit cheaper than sleeping in the palace proper. Nevertheless, it was a charming place to stay, with Kashmiri carpets covering the floors, beautiful ebony cabinets, and a royal four-poster bed. It was quiet and peaceful, and I slept much better here than in the rundown Best Western in Khajuraho. The next morning, I hired the driver from the previous night to take me on a 50-mile drive to an old ruin to the northeast, where the Khandela inscription, a copper plate with early numerals and perhaps also a zero, was rumored to have been seen. 2 If it was still there, it was attached to the inside wall of a ruined temple.
    We drove on a winding desert road and passed a lake with an island in its midst, and on it an ancient castle. On the shore, close to the road, a procession was taking place, with a succession of decorated elephants and camels carrying people. A small crowd gathered around an elderly man playing a wind instrument with his nostrils. We continued our slow ascent toward the ruins. During a stop on the way, I saw a handful of tourists standing around a snake charmer, the cobra moving its head as if to the rhythm of the piper’s music.
    We finally reached our destination, a ruined, deserted temple on top of a hill. The wind was blowing at the summit, kicking up dust. The ruined temple consisted of just two walls, and many stones that had fallen from the other walls covered the ground. But a walk around the remains of this temple revealed no copper plate anywhere. I spent two hours searching in likely locations, but there was no inscription anywhere. Many artifacts in Indian history have disappeared, and that gave me some comfort to soothe mydisappointment. My driver took me back to the maharaja’s coach house. Next I would go