From the lost port of Muziris to the dining halls of Caesar’s Rome, the journey of black pepper reveals a forgotten chapter of ancient global trade.
If you were a Roman merchant two thousand years ago, the journey to India wasn’t something you took lightly — but it was worth every drop of sweat. Setting off from the port of Ostia, you would sail past the Mediterranean blue waters, march through Egypt’s deserts to the Red Sea, and then ride the monsoon winds across the Arabian Sea. Your destination? Muziris — a coastal gem nestled at the mouth of the Periyar River, in what we now know as Kerala.
This wasn’t just a port. It was a treasure chest overflowing with sandalwood, ivory, camphor, pearls, and black pepper. The Romans came bearing gold and gladly handed it over for the one spice they couldn’t get enough of.
Muziris, in its prime, was a bustling melting pot. You’d see covered boats docking, ivory being weighed, rice sacks loaded high, and foreign tongues echoing through the market air. Romans, Greeks, Egyptians, Arabs — they all came ashore here, mingling with local traders and returning home with ships heavy with spice and silk.
Black pepper was the true star of the show. This tiny spice, once native to India’s southwest hills, held an allure no Roman patrician could ignore. It was believed to cure ailments, flavour food, and impress guests. The Apicius — one of the oldest known Roman cookbooks — features pepper in nearly every dish. So valued was it that the empire built entire storage buildings in Rome just to hold it — the Horrea Piperataria.
Pliny the Elder was unhappy about this — he recorded that Rome was bleeding wealth into the East, spending as much as 100 million sesterces on trade, with pepper constituting a significant portion of that. However, the Roman palate did not care. Whether added to stews or ground into wine, Indian pepper became Rome’s favourite indulgence.
As Roman ships stirred white foam on the waters of the Periyar, Muziris grew prosperous and wise. Its docks served not only for goods but also as gateways for ideas, languages, and even religions. It was through Muziris that Islam, Christianity, and Judaism entered Indian soil, quietly taking root and continuing to flourish to this day.
But nothing lasts forever. Trade to the East slowed as the Roman Empire started to crumble in the West. Muziris saw fewer sails on the horizon, and the gold dried up. And in 1341, nature delivered the final blow. A monstrous flood engulfed the port, altering the course of the Periyar and erasing Muziris from the map.
For over 600 years, the city became a whisper — a name in poetry, a ghost in the records. No one could say where it once stood. Its boats had vanished. Its pepper trails had gone cold.
It took centuries and spades to bring Muziris back. Archaeologists have worked along Kerala’s coast, unearthing artefacts that read like clues in a treasure hunt. At Pattanam, a likely candidate for ancient Muziris, they’ve uncovered Roman coins, amphora fragments, Indo-Roman beads, and even a ring carved with a Greek sphinx — a silent testament to how far the trade winds blew.
One excavation alone revealed over 4.5 million pieces of Indian pottery and more than 1.4 lakh shards from foreign lands. With each dig, Muziris speaks a little louder.
