MUMBAI, Feb. 20 -- At first glance, they were caskets in the earth - ash, charred bone, fragments of rice, crystals and gems. Finds to be catalogued; specimens to be separated, labelled and studied. Yet somewhere between excavation trench and public imagination, the relics of Piprahwa - an important archaeological site and Buddhist pilgrimage spot in Uttar Pradesh -- slipped their taxonomic moorings and returned to the realm of the sacred. That journey lies at the heart of art historian and JNU Prof Naman Ahuja's forthcoming lecture, When Scientific Specimens Turn Holy, at the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research today. The title carries a quiet provocation: objects do not remain still in meaning. "When academia had to begin attending to community rights, to the contexts from which objects were disturbed; when politics became defined by religion and museums had to accommodate worship - that transition became visible," Ahuja observes. It is not a closed chapter. "And this is only rising." Yet for many, the relics were never merely specimens. Soon after their discovery in 1898 by English estate manager W C Peppe at Piprahwa, their sacredness was apparent to practising Buddhists. A Siamese monk on pilgrimage, Ven Jinavaravansa, requested a share of the relics for Buddhists in Ceylon and for King Rama V of Siam (Thailand). The king received them ceremonially, with full honours. Even in the high noon of colonial archaeology, faith moved faster than classification. The Piprahwa stupa stands in the heartland of Buddhism. Its excavation revealed multiple caskets containing relics, alongside substantial quantities of ash, charred bone and rice. One inscribed casket records that the deposit was made by the Shakyas - the Buddha's paternal clan, whose capital was at ancient Kapilavastu. If authentic, this makes them the most precious known agnatic deposit associated with the historical Buddha. Their early life in modernity unfolded under a colonial gaze that was, as Ahuja puts it, "petrified of their religious significance". Information was tightly controlled. Some individuals exploited their access, passing off fake relics to devotees; others sought to privatise genuine finds, distributing them among acquaintances, even monetising them. And yet this same apparatus conducted meticulous research into Buddhist sites mentioned in ancient texts, driven by a 19th-century quest to map scripture onto soil. In that era, excavated items were regarded as "objects" by Europeans and by many Indians distanced from a living Buddhist practice. Human remains were separated from jewels; crystals and gems were treated as artefacts rather than embodiments. For practising Buddhists, however, such distinctions were alien. All were relics. In Buddhist belief, anything charged with the Buddha's presence can assume a sacred status: cremation ash, bodily fragments, the robe he wore, the bowl he held, even teachings imbued with his energy. The items interred alongside his ashes are understood as sharirik dhatu or bodily relics, he says. Stories tell of great masters' remains transforming into crystal over time - quartz, rock crystal, amethyst. They are not decorative additions but relics themselves, even though modern science may wish to separate bone from gemstone, ash from ornament. But within religious framework, that separation dissolves. This dissolving line poses uncomfortable questions for museums. Does identifying human remains as holy remove them from the category of "object"? The fear persists. Yet major museums worldwide have learnt to collaborate with community elders and religious leaders, allowing prayer or meditation while continuing research and public access. Relics, after all, have always been displayed. They were paraded at festivals, used in coronations, housed in transparent reliquaries so that they could be seen as well as sensed. What is new is the museum's need to accommodate living ritual within its secular architecture. In an age when religion is increasingly mediatised, an object's spiritual merit can supersede its archaeological significance. Relics have always been political. The first distribution of the Buddha's remains among eight claimant kingdoms created a sacred geography that drew pilgrims - and prestige. Emperor Ashoka's later redistribution extended that geography across his empire and beyond. In modern India, relic diplomacy continues. The repatriation of the relics of Sariputra and Maudgalyayana from Britain in 1951 required state protocols. Today, relics travel to countries such as Sri Lanka, Laos, Mongolia and Vietnam with full honours, sometimes conveyed in special aircraft, received as one would a head of state. Globally, debates around repatriation and the ethics of holding human remains have intensified. The Piprahwa case could lead conversations at international forums. But there is paradox here. Museums, in their secular desire to preserve and display, have sometimes strengthened religious identities. Why does this matter now? Because India stands, Ahuja argues, at a precipice. Rapid urbanisation erodes tangible heritage, fuelling a desperation to reclaim and sacralise what remains. Larger museums are needed; so too is ethical clarity. Science and spirituality must not be mobilised against each other. No single group can claim to speak for the past....