The negotiation talks between the U.N peace mission and the warlords controlling the town of Bamiyan had fallen apart. The entire secular world had been waiting to hear of a positive outcome. Darius W. Buffet, Captain of the U.S. Army, and his team were assigned the task of protecting Bamiyan’s giant Buddha statues that the warlords had threatened to destroy. Darius had always been interested in historical assignments. Maybe it was the stories his Persian grandmother narrated to him during his childhood about this part of the world. He was a history buff and had read about the history of Afghanistan and its religious past.  This part of Afghanistan had been a cradle to so many religions: pre-Indian, Hinduism, Buddhism and Islam.
    His team started their daily tours into the town trying to meet the residents, especially the village elders. This was a tough job since most of the population was extremely suspicious. As his Pashto (a derivative of Persian) got better, a few of the elders warmed up to him. Consensus was important to him. Field work, clearing landmines in the area surrounding the Buddha statues, was dangerous. Some of the mines were laid out recently by the extremists, while others dated back to the time of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Darius worried about his team which had a lot of young lads. While working on the ground, Darius noticed the many caves in the hills up near the shoulders of the statues. Darius wanted to visit them as soon as the work on the ground was done. He had an inkling that they held many more treasures hidden up there. Word about the work that Darius and his men were carrying on got around town.
    Since Darius seemed to have established a courteous relation with a few village elders, he and his team seemed to have let their guard down. They did not suspect much of the strangers who were hanging around the site. All of of a sudden, they were bombarded by gunfire. Loud blasts went off somewhere near the statues. Darius could not see the exact place because there was so much smoke and fire. They had been ambushed! The enemy clearly had the advantage of firing from up the hills! Darius yelled to his men to run for cover behind the giant rocks. Some were lucky. Others were not. Darius was hit, and he fell, hitting his head hard on a rock. He felt his head explode in pain, and then everything went dark. He was as good as dead. He lay there among the bodies of his fallen friends.
    As the sun started setting, a few dark figures moved from body to body, examining them for life. They recognized Darius and carried him to the home of Suleiman, one of the village elders with whom Darius had shaken hands. Suleiman cleaned his wounds and hoped for the best. As the swelling in his brain started subsiding, Darius started drifting in and out of consciousness. He started seeing flashes of repressed memories including: his grandmother, the time he spent with her, her stories about a world strange to him and the gold medallion around his neck that she had given him. She had told Darius that the medallion was a symbol of peace. These memories lead him to visions. In his semi conscious state, he was convinced that they were memories and not dreams because the details were so clear.
King Daryavesh, the ruler of Indus Valley, was seated on his throne and was intently listening to the advice of his learned minister. At this ripe old age, the worry about his country’s future weighed heavily on him. A crushing defeat in a recent war with the invading the Aryans, members of the Indo-European tribe, had left the coffers depleted. The Aryans brought with them new ideas, culture, education, language and religion. Daryavesh was worried that his peace-loving subjects would be wiped out by the more aggressive Aryans. However, over the years he had realized that freedom of religion, culture and education were the foundations for a healthy society. So, the wise king implemented laws that allowed the establishment of such a society. The new ways coexisted peacefully with the older ways. In time, Daryavesh took the unprecedented decision of relinquishing his throne to the Aryan king, Gandhar in exchange for the freedom of his subjects to practice their old ways. Gandhar obliged and as a token of friendship, he gave Daryavesh a precious Aryan artifact symbolizing peace, a gold medallion. Before retiring to a secret retreat, Daryavesh offered prayers at the temple of Bamiyan. The old king prayed for the freedom of his people and buried the medallion in the temple; almost as if he buried his spirit.
Darius opened his eyes. He was not sure how long he had been unconscious. He realized that he had survived the attack. The sight of Suleiman was calming. The old man spoke to him softly telling him how Darius had been sneaked into his house. He assured Darius of his safety but cautioned him to not venture out to the U.S. army base. During the days of recovery that followed, Darius and Suleiman chatted about their families. There was no animosity between the two men. Suleiman’s children had left Bamiyan and settled in Kabul to get away from the trouble. Eventually, Suleiman asked Darius about the medallion around his neck. He had recognized the symbol and felt a certain kinship with Darius. Maybe it was the medallion that he associated with his Afghani roots, or maybe it was the fact that he missed his own sons. Whatever it was, a bond of trust was established between the two men. Darius was disturbed by his memories, and he had no one but Suleiman to confide in. Darius asked Suleiman if he had heard of King Daryavesh? Suleiman sat down next to Darius and narrated a story about Daryavesh with eagerness that was typical of grandfathers. Darius had never read or heard of King Daryavesh before, so the scenes that flashed in his mind were definitely not dreams. How could he have so clearly dreamt of things he had never experienced? Without a shred of doubt they were memories. But they couldn’t have been memories from this life. Could they? How was it even possible?
Suleiman was happy to see Darius’s health improving. He remarked that Darius looked handsome in his son’s clothes. Darius was anxious to visit the Buddha statues and requested Suleiman to accompany him. Suleiman suggested that the ideal time would be to go after the evening prayers when the danger of being noticed was low. The next day, standing at the site where he almost got killed, Darius was filled with sadness and rage when he noticed that the face of one of the statues had been blown off. Darius asks Suleiman what he thought of the Buddha statues. Wise words came from the old man. He said that the past should be left alone. Nothing ever good came of digging up the past! History should be used to correct past mistakes, not to establish ownership and certainly not to divide people. Afterwards, the two men returned home. Word got to Suleiman that the warlords and their men would be leaving Bamiyan and heading to Sufrat, a neighbouring city in a couple of days. They were going to meet an arms dealer. “More ammunition, more bloodshed,” grumbled Sulieman. “The time will be perfect for you to investigate the caves without fear of being noticed,” he said to Darius.
There they were, Suleiman and Darius standing at the base of the Giant Buddha statues, trying to figure out a way to climb into the caves high above. The mountains were too steep and smooth, and they would be difficult to hike without proper equipment. Suleiman consoled the crestfallen Darius and asked him not to lose hope. Suddenly, Darius felt a gush of strong breeze coming from the inside of the cave above. The breeze seemed to come out of the cave, circled the two men and seemed to get sucked into the cave again. He confirmed this with Suleiman. That was odd! The only logical explanation was that the current of air must have entered it from another place, certainly not from the front where the two men stood. The laws of wind currents could not justify that. But where did it enter from? The two agreed that there must be another entrance to the cave and looked around. Darius was getting desperate. The sun was going to set in a while, and using torches would draw unnecessary attention.  Suleiman walked parallel to the caves tapping the ground below with his cane listening intently. A good two hundred feet later, he stopped, beckoned to Darius and told him to clear the area. Darius moved the rocks though he was still weak and sweating. Suddenly he stopped. There was a tiny entrance to what seemed to be a tunnel. A mix of emotions ran through him including excitement to see what lay ahead and fear of the unknown.
The sun was setting, and both men hurried into the tunnel. There was little light but enough to amble along. In the corner stood a stone staircase, but Suleiman wasn’t sure if it would hold the weight. Darius carefully climbed up the stairs while Suleiman waited. They communicated in whispers. Suddenly, there was a long silence. Suleiman was worried that Darius was hurt and called out in vain. Suleiman hurried up the stairs. Just then, Darius emerged out and helped the old man up into the cave. The two men were overwhelmed with the sights in the cave. The walls were covered with fabulous paintings of Buddha and his disciples. There were some broken pottery pieces. Light was fading but there was enough for them to move from this cave to next connected cave. Each step brought out gasps of amazements. In some caves, the art showed scenes from war. One painting depicted Buddhist monks escaping from, what Darius concluded to be, Ghengis Khan. During his conquests, the Great Khan had passed through this region and left behind a lot of destruction. These paintings were probably made by people who took refuge in these caves and escaped the assault. There were more to go but Suleiman pointed out that they should return home while it was still safe. Darius covered the path to the tunnel before before heading home.
That night Darius tossed and turned on the floor, unable to sleep. Nearby, on the cot, Suleiman hummed an old Afghani tune, and sleep finally took over. The next day, the same routine continued. Darius tried to remember everything he saw in the caves. At the moment, he had no paper to document these historical masterpieces. As they moved to the interior caves, Darius felt his heart pounding. He felt that something significant was going to happen. He gripped Suleiman’s hand. When he entered the last of these connected caves, he noticed the walls of this cave appeared to be different from the others. Unlike the other caves, this one’s walls were decorated with symbols. He felt himself drawn to a small mound in the corner. Under the broken pieces of pottery, he saw something shiny. What he discovered made him question everything he believed about life and death! A marvellous, gold tablet with the face of a man engraved in it. Beneath it was another symbol, the very symbol on Darius’s medallion. “Who was this man who so closely resembled me?” thought Darius. Suleiman shivered as he whispered aloud about the strangeness of the resemblance between Darius and the face on the tablet. Words were not flowing freely from the old man’s tongue. He merely pointed at the symbol on the tablet and then touched Darius’s medallion. There were inscriptions at the back of the tablet. Darius read aloud in a strange language. Suleiman asked him what he had said.
Darius said, “A gift from Gandhar. In honor of my friend Daryavesh. The inscription is in the Prakrit language.”
“How do you know this language,” asked Suleiman.
Darius stood speechless. He was cold and his head was muddled with thoughts. Suleiman’s firm grip steadied him and lent him support. Suleiman took out his prayer beads, offered prayer and asked God to protect Darius from all evil spirits. Suleiman, too, seemed shaken. He asked Darius to take the gold plate and then almost dragged him back home in a rush. No more words were exchanged between the men.
The silent long walk home did little to calm Darius’s mind. Did it confirm that he was Daryavesh reborn? How did he read a text in Prakrit? Was it his destiny to accomplish the dream of Daryavesh and Gandhar to save the spirit of tolerance by rescuing the giant statues? Was it God’s will that he find the tunnel, the caves and the tablet in order to learn his connection to the past and reaffirm his dedication to his work? Suleiman shut the doors to his humble cottage. The fear in him was visible. The men sat down, and after a while Suleiman said. “I am an old man and not as educated as you. We are from different worlds. But I see my son in you. What I am about to say might make you think that I am senile. The spirit of a great king lies in you. You are destined to do great things. Use this power to unite people.” After a hearty breakfast of a gruel made with goat’s milk, Suleiman walked up to Darius, shook his hands and then hugged him. He knew that the time had come to bid farewell to Darius, who had brought joy to his old soul. Darius comforted Suleiman and thanked him for guiding him towards his duty. “Pray for me that I may succeed in my work.” said Darius.
In the months that followed, Darius got back to his duties as a soldier and worked at a feverish pace.  He arranged for meetings between the U.S army’s high ranking officers and the U.N’s archaeological division. He surrendered the gold tablet to the officers of the U.N’s archaeological division and took them to the caves at Bamiyan. Suleiman often visited Darius on site where Darius was helping the archeologists document the new findings. The old man beamed with pride in Darius’s work. Thanks to Darius’s tireless efforts, many nations such as Japan, China, Switzerland and Vietnam offered support to the U.S to rebuild the giant Buddha statues of Bamiyan. Hopefully Darius’s efforts will restore what King Daryavesh had aspired, peace!