Four years ago, I found myself wandering through the hushed halls of the National Museum of Iraq in Baghdad, surrounded by artefacts that whispered tales of Mesopotamia—the cradle of civilization. Amid the cuneiform tablets, statues, and fragments of once-great cities, my gaze locked onto a figure that seemed to breathe out of legend itself.

It was Mushussu.

Even behind the glass, the creature appeared alive—its serpent’s body curling with menace, lion’s forelegs poised in strength, and eagle’s talons ready to strike. The Akkadian name Mushussu echoed in my mind, carrying with it whispers from millennia ago. I stood transfixed, as if the mythical guardian of Babylon had stepped forward through time to greet me.

A Beast of Paradox

The brilliance of Mushussu lies in its hybridity: serpent, lion, eagle. Together, these forms fuse earth, sky, and the underworld into a single divine protector. In Mesopotamian imagination, it was no monster—it was a guardian, a celestial being woven into the fabric of royal power and divine order.

At the Gates of Babylon

This guardian’s most famous vigil was at the Ishtar Gate of Babylon, raised by Nebuchadnezzar II in the 6th century BCE. Imagine approaching the city through its soaring, blue-glazed bricks, sunlight bouncing off the lapis glaze, and on its walls—Mushussu, carved in eternal watchfulness.

Lined along the walls, Mushussu stood vigilant, not just as decoration, but as a divine sentinel. Its presence proclaimed the authority of the gods and, by extension, the king who ruled in their name. To cross that threshold was to acknowledge both the grandeur of Babylon and the cosmic order upheld by its deities.

When I later stood before the replica of the Ishtar Gate at Babylon—not far from the ruins of that once-mighty city—I felt the weight of history pressing close. The desert wind carried echoes of chants and footsteps from thousands of years ago. The gate no longer led into a bustling metropolis, but its guardian figures still radiated a kind of timeless authority.

Today, fragments of this gate still guard their secrets in Baghdad, while its reconstructed glory commands attention in Berlin’s Pergamon Museum. The original Ishtar Gate towers there in magnificent splendour, carefully reassembled brick by brick.

The Berlin gate dazzles with majesty, but in Iraq, amid the dust and silence, it felt more authentic—less like a museum piece and more like a living fragment of history.

Servant of the God Marduk

My fascination deepened when I read the myths. Mushussu belonged to Marduk, Babylon’s chief deity. After his cosmic victory over Tiamat, the goddess of primordial chaos, Marduk fashioned the world from her remains. Out of that creation came Mushussu—his loyal servant, guardian, and even steed.

Thus, Mushussu was not only a protector of sacred temples and palaces but also a symbol of cosmic order. Its very image reassured kings and subjects alike that chaos had been vanquished and that divine authority safeguarded their world.

The Name that Traveled

In the 19th century, European scholars mistranscribed its name as Sirrush, a term that caught on in the Western world. Yet the true name—Mushussu—is richer, echoing with Akkadian cadence and Babylonian grandeur.

A Myth that Still Breathes

Today, Babylon may lie in ruins, but Mushussu endures—etched into museum walls, replicated in reconstructions, and remembered in stories retold across time. In our digital age, where myths often find new life on glowing screens, Mushussu still commands curiosity.

It exists in that liminal space—between the human and the divine, between history and legend. For me, standing in that museum in Baghdad, it was as if the creature had stepped out of the mythic past to remind us of Mesopotamia’s enduring legacy.

For me, Mushussu is not just a museum artefact or a relief on ancient bricks. It is a reminder of the timeless guardianship of history itself. I first met it in Baghdad, later again in Babylon, and somewhere in between those two encounters, it became more than a myth. It became a companion in my journeys—a creature that stands at the gates of time, watching, waiting, reminding us of the delicate balance between myth and memory.

The Guardian Spirit of Iraq

As I reflect on that encounter, I cannot help but think of modern Iraq. A land that has endured wars, upheavals, and hardship, yet continues to stand—guarded not by mythical beasts, but by the resilience of its people and the weight of its heritage.

In many ways, Mushussu still keeps vigil here. Its form may live on in bricks and reliefs, but its spirit lingers in the determination of Iraq to preserve its history and identity against the tides of chaos. Just as it once protected Babylon, Mushussu now seems to protect the memory of Mesopotamia itself—ensuring that the story of this cradle of civilization will never fade.

And perhaps that is the true power of myth: not to remain frozen in the past, but to continue inspiring the present.