Abu legal climate
Science is not a gift of modernity but the pulse of ancient civilizations, and in India, it beats through the veins of culture, memory, and ritual like an eternal current of awakened reason.
When one hears the terms science and technology, the mind often conjures images of sleek laboratories, white-coated researchers, and satellites orbiting distant skies. There is an implicit assumption that these disciplines are the exclusive products of a modern, industrial, and Western world. Yet this perception is not only incomplete but fundamentally misleading. In the Indian context, science and technology are neither modern imports nor recent phenomena. They are ancient, indigenous, and intricately woven into the very fabric of cultural and philosophical life.
The traditional Indian worldview does not perceive science and culture as separate domains. Rather, it considers them two faces of the same truth-seeking impulse. This integration is not superficial, nor is it a rhetorical flourish. It is a deep, systematic relationship forged through centuries of observation, experimentation, contemplation, and transmission. The concept of knowledge in ancient India, referred to as Vidya, was never confined to the abstract or the theoretical. It was experiential, practical, and always harmonized with ethical and spiritual dimensions.
Science in India did not emerge in isolation. It emerged in temples, in fields, in kitchens, in poetic meters, and in the movements of the cosmos. It was embedded in the rhythms of daily life and elevated by the metaphysical insights of sages and seers. This is not to mystify Indian science, but to underscore its unique character. Unlike the reductionist tendencies of modern empiricism, Indian science embraced complexity. It acknowledged that the universe is not just a mechanism, but a living system, one that demands humility as much as inquiry.
The five elemental principles, earth (Prithvi), water (Apas), fire (Agni), air (Vayu), and space (Akasha), form the cornerstone of Indian cosmological and scientific thought. Far from being symbolic relics, these elements represent real and observable phenomena. They map physical, psychological, and cosmic realities with astonishing sophistication. Their interactions govern traditional systems of medicine, architecture, music, and environmental management. Each is not only a force of nature but a category of understanding, a lens through which reality is comprehended and harmonized.
Let us consider, without overwhelming the discourse with examples, one masterpiece that encapsulates this indigenous fusion of science, technology, and culture, the Brihadeeswara Temple of Thanjavur. Commissioned in the eleventh century by Raja Raja Chola I, this temple stands as a monument not only to religious devotion but to mathematical genius, engineering prowess, and astronomical acumen. The vimana, or tower, soars to a height of over two hundred feet and is capped by a single block of granite weighing nearly eighty tonnes.
This architectural feat was accomplished without cranes, steel, or concrete. It is believed that a sloping ramp several kilometers in length was constructed to elevate the stone into position, a masterstroke of mechanical strategy and logistical planning. More astonishing still is the temple’s resistance to earthquakes and its flawless alignment with the cardinal directions and solar movements. The inner sanctum is illuminated by sunlight on specific days of the year, marking celestial events with sublime precision. This is not merely architecture, it is astronomy cast in stone, a symphony of spatial geometry and spiritual symbolism.
What we observe here is not anecdotal brilliance but the articulation of a civilizational philosophy. Indian science was always utilitarian in the truest sense, it served society, preserved nature, and elevated the human spirit. Its technological expressions were not driven by market forces or imperial ambitions but by the imperatives of balance, harmony, and continuity. This is evident in ancient water harvesting systems, metallurgical innovations, and medical practices that prioritized sustainability long before the term entered the global lexicon.
Ayurveda, for example, is not a patchwork of herbal remedies but a sophisticated science of life. It treats the body not as an isolated mechanism but as a dynamic system in constant dialogue with its environment. It recognizes the psychosomatic dimension of disease, prescribes preventive care, and tailors treatment to the individual constitution. It is a medicine born not of trial and error but of meticulous observation, clinical experience, and philosophical reflection.
Mathematics and astronomy in India followed a similar trajectory. Aryabhata, writing in the fifth century, postulated that the Earth rotates on its axis and correctly explained eclipses as the result of shadows, not supernatural forces. He computed the value of pi with remarkable accuracy and introduced algebraic methods centuries before they were known in Europe. His legacy, and that of scholars like Bhaskara and Varahamihira, reveals a tradition that was analytical, innovative, and rigorously documented.
What is truly profound, however, is that this knowledge was never severed from ethical consciousness. The idea of Lokasamgraha, the welfare of all, guided the deployment of knowledge. Science was not pursued for ego, nor was technology a tool of domination. It was a means of service. This moral anchoring distinguishes Indian science from many modern pursuits, which often remain blind to their own consequences.
Furthermore, the transmission of knowledge in India was designed to preserve this ethical and holistic approach. The Gurukul system was not just an educational model, it was a crucible for character formation. Students lived with their teachers, learned through oral transmission, memorization, and experiential immersion. Knowledge was sacred, and learning was inseparable from discipline, humility, and reverence. In today’s age of fragmented learning and digital distraction, this model offers a counterpoint, a reminder that education is as much about becoming as it is about knowing.
It would be a mistake to view this as a nostalgic idealization of the past. Rather, it is a call for rightful recognition. The legacy of Indian science and technology is not dead history but living potential. It urges us to see beyond colonial narratives that dismissed indigenous knowledge systems as irrational or inferior. It challenges the notion that true science began with Enlightenment Europe. And it offers, in its depth and dignity, an alternative path forward, one that combines innovation with wisdom, efficiency with compassion.
In reclaiming this legacy, we are not rejecting modern science but enriching it. We are not privileging tradition over progress but revealing that true progress is tradition in motion. As we confront existential threats like climate change, mental health crises, and the ethical labyrinths of artificial intelligence, the Indian paradigm provides not just tools, but perspective. It reminds us that knowledge is most powerful when it is also kind, and that technology is most enduring when it is rooted in values.
Science and technology are not alien to Indian culture. They are its pulse, its heritage, and its gift to the world. To forget this is to forget ourselves. To remember it is to awaken a sleeping genius, one capable of shaping a future as radiant as its past.
To reclaim our scientific heritage is not to look back in pride, but to look forward with purpose, armed not just with knowledge, but with wisdom forged in the crucible of time.
By: Tushant Sachdeva
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