Let's revisit the time when Indo-Roman trade turned Pune into a hub of global exchange.
Long before anyone even spoke of globalization, India was already trading widely. And Pune stood among the world’s earliest trade maps. Set in the Deccan, the city linked empires beyond the subcontinent, with its merchants dealing in spices, textiles, beads, and shimmering gemstones. Roman ships, on the other hand, returned with gold, wine, and stories of another world. And just like that, Pune became a bridge across civilizations.
In this article, let's revisit that time.
From the 1st century BCE to the 3rd century CE, the Indian Ocean became a thoroughfare linking Rome to India’s western coast. Sailors knew the secret of the monsoon winds, such as the southwesterlies in summer pushed them eastwards, while the northeasterlies carried them home in winter. Subsequently, ships left Egyptian ports like Berenike, crossed the Arabian Sea, and arrived at India’s bustling harbors.
Now we glimpse this world through scattered voices. The Periplus of the Erythraean Sea, a mariner’s handbook from the 1st century, lists the cargo, particularly Roman wine, metal, and glass, traded for Indian spices, textiles, and jewels. Pliny the Elder, writing in Rome, fumed about the empire’s coffers draining - he claimed a hundred million sesterces left each year to pay for eastern luxuries. Ptolemy’s maps show the outlines of this network, dots on a coastline that fed goods deep inland.
Ancient Rome had significant trade links with India, particularly during the Roman Empire under the rule of Augustus and onwards. Silk Road and Indian Ocean trade routes facilitated the exchange of goods to Rome from India, including textiles, spices, gems and other luxury items.… pic.twitter.com/5EFYCoNBPA
— Archaeo - Histories (@archeohistories) June 3, 2025
(Credit: ishoayuu)
Pune, far from the sea yet well connected, stood at the meeting of the Mula and Mutha rivers. Caravans from the coast threaded through mountain passes like Naneghat and Borghat, bringing seaborne cargo up onto the plateau. The nearest ports, such as Barygaza (modern Bharuch), Sopara, and Kalyan, were stepping stones between the ocean and the inland town.
Once over the Ghats, routes fanned out - north to Junnar, south to Paithan and Ter. Archaeological surveys show these roads often hugged Buddhist cave sites, the monasteries doubling as rest stops and safe havens for merchants. The Bhima River, flowing into the Godavari, tied Pune into even larger riverine networks.
India’s exports read like a catalogue of desire. Pepper, long pepper, malabathrum leaves. Cotton muslins so fine they were said to vanish on the skin. Bright stones (such as carnelian, agate, and sapphire) were carved into beads. Ivory and tortoiseshell, on the other hand, were crafted into ornaments.
In return came Roman wares, such as wine and olive oil in heavy amphorae, polished glass vessels, coral, and coins struck with emperors’ profiles. Pliny mentions kings in India receiving silver tableware and fine vintages as royal gifts. Archaeology bears him out, too, like amphora fragments turn up far inland, and hoards of Roman coins, especially gold aurei and silver denarii, show how foreign currency circulated as prestige as much as payment.
Today, the soil of Maharashtra still holds these traces. At Junnar, not far from Pune, archaeologists uncovered amphora shards from the early centuries CE, their forms reflecting Mediterranean workshops. Some local potters even copied the style, proving that exotic imports inspired local craft.
Shell bangles made from the Turbinella pyrum of Gujarat washed into Pune’s markets, while beads and glassware found at nearby sites like Bhokardan suggest a taste for luxury filtered well beyond the coast. Roman coins surface more rarely here than elsewhere, but their occasional glint reminds us of distant emperors whose faces travelled thousands of miles.
Who made this world of exchange possible? Indian inscriptions call them Yavanas - foreign merchants, often Greeks or Romans, who lived in port towns and pushed inland. They worked alongside local guilds and caravan leaders, the shrenis and sarthavahas, who organized overland transport. At Junnar’s cave shrines, we read their names carved in stone, donations made to the Buddha for safe passage and prosperity.
The Satavahana rulers, dominant in the Deccan, collected tolls and offered protection. Their patronage of Buddhist monasteries was both pious and pragmatic. Monasteries gave traders shelter, and traders gave monasteries wealth. At the great port of Barygaza, brokers handled exchanges under royal supervision, ensuring both trust and profit.
Trade reshaped Pune and the Deccan around it. Towns swelled into busy markets. Artisans like beadmakers, textile weavers, and metalworkers all found steady demand. Roman glass and fine wine elevated elite households, while merchant guilds gained power and visibility.
Religion, too, flourished along the caravan routes. For example, Buddhist caves near Pune bear testimony to traders’ endowments, art, and faith nourished by commerce.
Modern scholars continue to debate the scale and shape of this trade. Was it truly “Indo-Roman,” or one thread in a wider Indian Ocean web where Rome was only a customer at the edge? Did Pune play a central role, or was it a secondary stop along larger routes? Pliny’s numbers, dramatic though they are, may exaggerate the flow of silver eastward. And tales of Roman temples in India remain more legend than evidence.
What is clear, however, is that this was not one-sided. Indian merchants, rulers, and guilds were active architects, not passive suppliers. The sea carried goods both ways, but inland networks like Pune’s gave them reach and resilience.
By the mid-3rd century, the world had shifted to a great extent. Rome faltered under internal crises. The Sassanian Empire cut into eastern routes, while the Satavahanas declined. And trade redirected toward Southeast Asia, leaving behind fragments of pottery, coins, and stone inscriptions as reminders.
