Time is inevitable. It is the essence without which reality has no meaning. It is inseparably woven in the fabric of universe, chronicling its history every moment: inflation of universe since beginning, formation of galaxies from cosmic dust, creation of elements in the nuclear furnace of stars, origin of organic life from these elements on a miniscule planet, evolution of complex organisms which ruminate on the nature of the phenomenon of time. Movement of cosmic bodies in our vicinity give us the measure of time: rotation of Earth on its axis, its revolution around Sun, Moon’s revolution around earth. We are born with a biological clock which is aligned to this astronomical clock. It regulates physiological processes and behavioural patterns. Though these two clocks are synchronized, biological clock keeps ticking independently of the external clock. This explains the jet-lag after a long intercontinental flight across many longitudes. Plants and animals too, it would seem, have...

I must assure you, before you begin, that what follows is not an exegesis on consciousness – a task for which I’m abysmally ill-equipped. I only want to draw your attention to a gripping story I read this month. If prelude to my notes on the book seem like a tail that’s wagging the dog, blame is mine, novice in this art as I am.   One overarching feature of our species is consciousness. If asked to define it, most of us will flounder. But we know instinctively what is being conscious. We know consciousness is not merely ‘not being unconscious’. Every living organism is conscious in this sense; even single-celled amoebae respond to external stimulus in some way. Consciousness is being able to think of self as an aware, living entity; the ‘I’ surveying the world. It is the ability to form an opinion on the world and self. It is possessing a theory of mind, which enables us to impute reason as to why people behave in a fashion. It is the capacity to confabulate in our mind’s eye, ...

  Where Have We Come From? History of the species is written on the genes of its each individual. Genome is a palimpsest. Eons scribble on it – in a simple language comprising four alphabets and twenty odd, three-lettered words – as the organism evolves over geological ages.   Life originated on earth nearly three thousand five hundred million years ago. Humans have been around for about 0.4 million years. Thus, a major portion of the book of our genome was written when we were not humans; if the book had one page for each million years, human story would occupy less than half a page in the three thousand five-hundred-page book.   Modern humans originated in Africa. Story of our African parentage is indelibly etched in each cell of our body, numbering trillions. These etchings tell us a singularly fascinating tale of our ancestors as they travelled out of Africa and established home in the wider world. They were then, hunter-gatherers. Civilisations were born many...

Ibtida-The Prelude     Station was situated amidst paddy fields which stretched till horizon in all directions. We arrived here in the month of May. Sun baked the plains of Punjab with a ruthless malice. Sowing of paddy had begun and fields lay inundated with water the whole day. An unbearable hot-vapour seemed to rise from the ground relentlessly. Stifling heat was not the only stuff fields generated. Snakes abandoned the watery graves and took shelter in the sprawling grounds surrounding officers’ bungalows. Archana was mortally scared to move into the house we were allotted. A narrow road and a barbed-wire fence separated it from the fields. I had to resort to minor trickeries, embarrassing all the same, to claim a first-floor flat.   Civilian neighbourhood abutting the station was an urbanised village. It had two central schools; both appeared the refuge of rowdies. On my first day at hospital, a boy seemingly in late teens but studying in ninth, was brought...

  This Colour of My Heart Romantic love is a fabric of many shades. It is a melange of disparate emotions: obsessive longing, peaceful contentment, perpetual unease, imperturbable calm, incurable desolation, unparalleled ecstasy, throbbing tenderness, delusional envy, abject devotion, obsessive jealousy. This love is a necessity of life. It engenders life and nourishes it. Only purpose of life on earth– there is no extant evidence of life anywhere else in universe– is self-replication. Nature has stumbled on a sophisticated mechanism to fulfil this aim in our species: the romantic love. What a convoluted process to achieve a simple, although universal goal of life! This longwinded approach of nature– not wasteful, as nature is incorrigibly parsimonious in using its resources– has painted the canvas of human experience in unbelievably vibrant colours. These have been the muse of poets and story tellers since the time man discovered such occupations of mind.   Faiz Ahmad...