Remembering the Centenarian Prof. E.V. Chitnis, on his passing this morning – 22 October 2025.

 

This morning Suhas Naik Satam, Secretary, NCSC, posted the tragic news on the passing of Dr Chitnis in Pune, based on the information that he received from Dr Chetan Chitnis so of Dr EV Chitnis. Dr EV Chitnis suffered a cardiac arrest and was rushed to the hospital where he succumbed to the cardiac arrest early this morning – 22 October, 2025. In his passing, India has lost one of its most enduring space visionaries. Dr. Eknath Vasant Chitnis, a close confidant of Dr Sarabhai - the founding father of the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO) - and a Padma Bhushan awardee, lived remarkable life of 100 years (Prof Chitnis was born on 25 July 1925). In the annals of human history very few people have the honour of celebrating their own birth centenary; from amongst those there are few parallels to the veritable and a nation building life that  Dr EV Chitnis lived, during which his achievements in laying the foundation for one of the most loved scientific institutions in the country – ISRO and its precursor INCOSPAR - as founding secretary of INCOSPAR and as a scientist, are truly remarkable.

Just months earlier, in July, 2025, on his birth centenary, the National Centre for Science Communicators (NCSC), had organized a grand centenary tribute conference to Dr Chitnis at the Indian Institute of Science Education and Research (IISER) in Pune, celebrating the life of this "living legend." I was privileged to be one of the members of NSCS who helped plan for this befitting conference. The event, attended by luminaries from India's space fraternity. This conference underscored the profound impact Chitnis had on the nation's scientific journey. As we mourn his passing, it is fitting to reflect on his remarkable contributions—not just to space technology, but to the transformational impact that his contributions to the Satellite Instruction Television Experiment (SITE) program had on the social fabric of rural India. Chitnis was a bridge between the vision that Dr Sarabhai had to bring the applications of space to the people of India and to its implementation in using space technology for societal upliftment.

Born on July 25, 1925, in Maharashtra, Eknath Vasant Chitnis completed his education in physics which laid the foundation for a career that would intersect with the birth of India's space program. Chitnis joined the Physical Research Laboratory (PRL) in Ahmedabad - an institution founded by Dr Vikram Sarabhai - where he conducted pioneering research on cosmic rays. It was here that Dr Chitnis’s brilliance was noticed by Dr. Sarabhai. the visionary architect of India's space ambitions. Incidentally, the Nehru Science Centre in collaboration with NCSC had organised a Birth Centenary conference in memory of Dr Sarabhai at the Nehru Science Centre, in August 2020 and among the luminaries who spoke during this conference was Dr Chitnis, although his talk was in the form of a video recorded interview that he gave to my NCSC colleague Suhas Naik Satam, Secretary NCSC, in which he recollected his association with Dr Sarabhai and the team role in building ISRO and its precursor (INCOSPAR).  Dr. Sarabhai, recognizing Chitnis's sharp scientific acumen and humanistic approach, brought him into the fold of the Indian National Committee for Space Research (INCOSPAR), the precursor to ISRO.

Chitnis's early role was pivotal. As the founder member secretary of INCOSPAR, he was instrumental in laying the groundwork for India's space infrastructure. One of his first major tasks was scouting locations for rocket launching stations. It was Chitnis who helped Sarabhai identify the Thumba in Kerala as the ideal site for the Thumba Equatorial Rocket Launching Station (TERLS), due to its proximity to the magnetic equator—a decision that propelled India's entry into space research. This choice was not arbitrary; but path breaking, it reflected Chitnis's meticulous attention to scientific detail and his ability to foresee long-term benefits. As Kiran Karnik, former director of ISRO's Development and Educational Communication Unit (DECU), recalled during the centenary conference, Chitnis's strategic foresight was evident even in those nascent days: "He was the quiet force behind Sarabhai's bold visions, ensuring that every step was grounded in practicality."

The 1960s and 1970s were transformative for India's space program, and Chitnis was at the heart of it. Following Sarabhai's untimely death in 1971, Chitnis took on the mantle of operationalizing the Space Applications Centre (SAC) in Ahmedabad, becoming its director in 1972. Under his leadership, SAC evolved into a hub for applying space technology to real-world problems, from remote sensing to telecommunications. But it was the Satellite Instructional Television Experiment (SITE) - one of the three visionary projects alongside the Aryabhata satellite and Space Launching Vehicle (SLV) - that truly defined his legacy—a project that Sarabhai had dreamed of, which Chitnis brought to fruition.

SITE, launched in 1975 in collaboration with NASA, was a path breaking initiative that used the ATS-6 satellite – sourced from NASA, USA - to beam educational and developmental programs directly to rural India. SITE, covering over 2,400 villages across six states—Andhra Pradesh, Bihar, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh, Orissa, and Rajasthan— experiment ran for a full year, from August 1, 1975, to July 31, 1976. Chitnis spearheaded the selection process for these villages, ensuring they represented the most underserved regions. A UNESCO report on SITE, titled "The SITE Experience," detailed how this selection was a meticulous exercise in social engineering, prioritizing areas with high illiteracy and poverty rates to maximize impact. The report highlighted challenges like technical glitches—on average, 16% of broadcast time faced issues—but praised the project's success in delivering content on agriculture, health, family planning, and education. This was the beginning of India harvesting the benefits of space technology for the social good of its people, a vision so prophetically envisaged by ISRO founder Dr Sarabhai.

What made SITE revolutionary was its focus on "democratizing access to technology," as Chitnis himself often emphasized. It wasn't just about transmission; it was a well-researched social intervention. Villages received community television sets, often placed in schools or panchayat halls, turning them into hubs of learning. Farmers learned modern agricultural techniques, women gained knowledge on hygiene and nutrition, and children accessed basic education. The project's success was quantified in various studies: literacy rates improved in targeted areas, and health awareness campaigns reduced incidences of preventable diseases. UNESCO's "Planning for Satellite Broadcasting: The Indian Instructional Television Experiment" further elaborated on how SITE's software—program content—was as critical as the hardware, with Chitnis overseeing interdisciplinary teams of scientists, educators, and sociologists.

Colleagues who worked closely with Chitnis during SITE offer poignant insights into his leadership. Kiran Karnik, who joined ISRO in the 1970s and later led DECU, described Chitnis as a mentor who blended rigor with empathy. In a recent article marking the 50th anniversary of SITE, Karnik wrote, "Prof. Chitnis turned technology into a tool for real-life use, not just missions. His attention to detail in planning SITE ensured it wasn't a fleeting experiment but a blueprint for future innovations." Karnik recounted how Chitnis insisted on field visits to villages, often traveling to remote areas to understand ground realities. "He believed in humanity above all," Karnik noted in a LinkedIn post, reflecting on their shared experiences.

Pramod Kale, who succeeded Chitnis as SAC director, shared similar sentiments at the Pune conference. Kale, a key figure in India's early satellite programs, praised Chitnis's ethical guidance: "He was a leader who taught us that science must serve society. During SITE, he navigated bureaucratic hurdles and international collaborations with grace, ensuring India's voice was heard in global forums." Kale's reflections, drawn from his own memoirs and interviews, highlight Chitnis's role in fostering a collaborative culture at ISRO. In a YouTube interview on Indian space history, Kale recalled how Chitnis mentored young engineers, including himself, emphasizing interdisciplinary approaches.

Y.S. Rajan, another ISRO stalwart and co-author with A.P.J. Abdul Kalam on books like "India 2020," worked alongside Chitnis during the formative years. Rajan's archives, preserved at the National Centre for Biological Sciences, include correspondence that reveals Chitnis's influence on space policy. In his writings, Rajan often credits Chitnis for integrating social sciences into space applications. "The trinity of Sarabhai, Kalam, and Chitnis shaped ISRO's ethos," Rajan wrote in an article on the program's early days, noting how Chitnis's work on SITE inspired broader applications in remote sensing and disaster management. Rajan's YouTube interview ahead of Chandrayaan-3 echoed this, praising Chitnis's humility: "He was the unsung hero who made space accessible to the common man."

The ripple effects of SITE extended far beyond its one-year duration. Its success directly influenced the expansion of Doordarshan, India's public broadcaster. In the early 1980s, leveraging lessons from SITE, Doordarshan rolled out over 190 low-power TV transmitters—one nearly every day—a record that transformed television from an urban luxury to a national staple. This paved the way for the communication revolution, with programs like "Krishi Darshan" and "Hum Log" reaching millions. Later it is this TV transmission revolution that helped the Indian Cricket and its administrators (BCCI) to dominate in the world of cricket as a key administrator in the affairs of International Cricket Council (ICC).  As Karnik pointed out, SITE demonstrated that satellite technology could bridge the urban-rural divide, inspiring Doordarshan's golden era in the 1980s. Newspaper reports from the time chronicled how SITE's infrastructure laid the groundwork for INSAT satellites, enabling direct-to-home transmissions that benefited rural populations.

Post-SITE, Chitnis led the Kheda Communications Project in Gujarat, a follow-up that used television for socio-economic change in dairy farming communities. Retiring from ISRO in 1985 after receiving the Padma Bhushan, he settled in Pune, where he taught at Pune University and continued advocating for science education. His son, Dr. Chetan Chitnis, a renowned malaria researcher and Padma Shri recipient, shared personal anecdotes at the centenary event: "My father taught us that true progress lies in inclusivity. He lived simply, valuing family and ethics above accolades."

Chitnis's legacy is etched in ISRO's DNA. As the organization achieves milestones like Chandrayaan-3, his emphasis on applications for societal good remains central. Research papers, such as those in Science Direct on ISRO's culture, credit him with fostering an innovative, people-centric environment. In a world chasing Mars and the Moon, Chitnis and his mentor Dr Sarabhai, reminded us that space technology's greatest triumph is improving life on Earth.

As we bid farewell to this centenarian pioneer, let us remember him not just for rockets and satellites, but for the light he brought to countless villages.

Prof. E.V. Chitnis's life was a testament to the power of science with a soul. India owes him an eternal debt.

Rest in Peace Dr Chitnis, you and your contributions will ever remain etched in the annals of Indian space programs.

 Images Courtesy : NCSC, Dr PV Venkitakrishnan, Dr Shekhar Mande,  and Indian Express

Birth Centenary Tribute to Ebrahim Alkazi : The Architect of Modern Indian Theatre

This year, 18 October 2025, marks the centenary of Ebrahim Alkazi—the legendary theatre director, art connoisseur, educator, and institution-builder whose influence on Indian theatre, pedagogy, and aesthetics remains unparalleled. Though a century has passed since his birth, Alkazi’s legacy feels immediate and alive, continuing to shape the sensibility of Indian theatre and its allied arts, more so with his legacy perpetuated through Alkazi Foundation for Arts.

When I look back today, I feel a deep sense of privilege and gratitude to have hosted his monumental retrospective, The Theatre of Ebrahim Alkazi: A Modernist Approach to Indian Theatre, at the National Gallery of Modern Art, Mumbai in 2016. Although Lalit Kala had organised an exhibition earlier on Alkazi, but due to the paucity of space to present the life and times of Alkazi, full justice could not be done in the exhibition at Delhi and in that sense the exhibition at NGMA Mumbai was truly remarkable and one of the most meaningful curatorial experiences for Amal Allana daughter of Alkazi, who curated this exhibition during my tenure as Director of NGMA Mumbai. The exhibition served as a befitting homage paid to the living legend, a towering figure whose work defined an era of modern Indian theatre. Unfortunately, although it was planned that Alkazi would be personally present at the valedictory of the exhibition, unfortunately due to his ailing health the nonagenarian could not make it to the exhibition.

On his passing in August 2020, I had paid my tribute on my blog whose link is appended at the end of this write up. 

A Visionary Born of Many Worlds

Ebrahim Alkazi was born on 18 October 1925 in Pune, to a Saudi Arabian father and a Kuwaiti mother. Among nine siblings, young Alkazi grew up in a multilingual household, speaking Arabic, Marathi, Gujarati, and English with ease. His early schooling at St. Vincent’s High School in Pune and later studies at St. Xavier’s College, Bombay, exposed him to the vibrancy of India’s emerging cosmopolitan arts scene.

It was in Bombay that his lifelong engagement with theatre began—first as a member of Sultan “Bobby” Padamsee’s Theatre Group, which would become the crucible of India’s modern English theatre movement. Later, he trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA) in London, graduating in 1947—the very year of India’s independence. During his RADA years, he directed over fifty plays and won the BBC Broadcasting Award (1950).

Although offered lucrative and prestigious opportunities in the United Kingdom, Alkazi chose to return to India. In that singular act of choice—of return and commitment—he announced his larger vision: to build, not borrow; to create an Indian modernism grounded in its own soil.

The Bombay Years and the Curator’s Eye

On his return, Alkazi immersed himself in Bombay’s artistic ferment of the 1950s. With Roshen Alkazi and their circle of collaborators, he co-founded the Theatre Unit, which became the crucible for English-language theatre in the city. Alongside his theatre productions, he edited Theatre Unit Bulletin and curated the remarkable 13-part lecture series This Is Modern Art, bridging theatre with visual culture.

These activities prefigured what later became a defining feature of his vision: the confluence of theatre, art, and design. He maintained close associations with members of the Bombay Progressive Artists’ Group—Husain, Raza, Souza, and Padamsee—inviting them to collaborate on stage sets, posters, and scenography. This early fusion of art and theatre was not incidental; for Alkazi, stagecraft, lighting, costume, and space were as integral to performance as the actor or the text.

At the National School of Drama: Institution and Discipline

In 1962, Alkazi took charge as Director of the National School of Drama (NSD) in Delhi—a post he held with distinction for fifteen years until 1977. His tenure remains the most transformative period in the institution’s history, often referred to as the “golden age of NSD.”

He revolutionised training by introducing a rigorous, holistic curriculum that combined classical Indian traditions with modern international theatre practices. Under his guidance, students were trained not only in acting but also in design, lighting, movement, direction, and dramaturgy.

Alkazi also founded the NSD Repertory Company (1964) to ensure that training found immediate expression in professional performance. His legendary productions—Girish Karnad’s Tughlaq, Mohan Rakesh’s Ashadh Ka Ek Din, and Dharamvir Bharati’s Andha Yug—set new aesthetic benchmarks. His Andha Yug, performed in the Purana Qila in Delhi, remains etched in memory as a site-specific masterpiece that turned history into a living stage.

Alkazi’s exacting standards were both feared and revered. He was known to arrive at dawn rehearsals, demanding from students a near-spiritual devotion to craft. For him, theatre was not a pastime—it was discipline, ethics, and vocation. His protégés—Naseeruddin Shah, Om Puri, Uttara Baokar, Rohini Hattangadi, Pankaj Kapoor, and many others—carry forward that ethos even today, a testament to his enduring influence. Incidentally, many of his students made it to the opening of his retrospective at NGMA Mumbai. 

Archives and the Alkazi Foundation

After stepping down from NSD, Alkazi turned increasingly toward the archival and curatorial domains. He founded Art Heritage Gallery in Delhi in 1977, a space that championed both modern and experimental Indian art. His passion for preservation and scholarship culminated in the Alkazi Foundation for the Arts (AFA), which today include invaluable archives comprising more than 100,000 historical photographs from the 19th and 20th centuries; and also a repository documenting Alkazi’s own productions as well as the broader evolution of Indian stagecraft.

Incidentally, during my tenure as the Director of NGMA Bangalore, I witnessed first hand a glimpse of the collection of some of these rare photographs from the collections of AFA during an exhibition (2013), the ‘DAWN UPON DELHI - The Rise of Capital'  which was organised by the Alkazi Foundation for the Arts in collaboration with NGMA Delhi. This exhibition showcased a collection of late 19th and mid 20th century engravings, maps, plans, vintage and most importantly archival photographs (from the collection of AFA), the Archaeological Survey of India, the Central Public Works Department archives and the archives of D.N. Chaudhuri and Habib Rahman. This exhibition left a lasting impression on me. Today as we celebrate the birth centenary of Ebrahim Alkazi, coincidentally, CSMVS, where I am currently serving as a Senior Advisor, is hosting an exhibition titled "Disobedient Subjects: Bombay 1930–1931" which showcases the Civil Disobedience Movement in Mumbai, more particularly by women. This exhibition organised at CSMVS in collaboration with Alkazi Foundation for the Arts, features rare photographs from the K.L. Nursey album and explores how the camera was used as a tool of resistance during India's freedom struggle and how women in large numbers took part in Mumbai in civil disobedience and freedom struggle. The exhibition also features some of the historical photographs from the collections of Mani Bhavan with which I am associated.

The AFA has ensured that the visual and performative histories of India have not lost to time, like most of our ancient history. Alkazi’s concept of the living archive—one that provokes inquiry rather than merely stores information—continues to inspire curators, archivists, and historians alike and has motivated several other institutions to develop their own archives like the CSMVS which has its own archives.

The 2016 Retrospective at NGMA Mumbai

The exhibition “Theatre of Ebrahim Alkazi: A Modernist Approach to Indian Theatre” a retrospective exhibition of Alkazi, organised at NGMA Mumbai in 2016, when I headed this installation, has helped the legacy of Alkazi to be captured in vivid memories of people. This retrospective exhibition, curated by his daughter Amal Allana and her husband Nissar Allana, unfolded across the NGMA’s magnificent grand semicircular galleries, one leading to the other, transforming them into an architectural journey through a life devoted to theatre, art and crafts. Inaugurated on 9 September 2016 by H.E. Saud Al-Sati, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to India, the opening of the exhibition was graced by Alyque Padamsee, Vijaya Mehta, Amal and Nissar Allana, and several of Alkazi’s distinguished students and admirers and art connoisseurs of Mumbai. Sharing the stage with these luminaries, during the opening of this exhibition will ever remain etched in my memory 

The exhibition traced Alkazi’s journey—from his early years in Pune and Bombay to his NSD tenure and later archival pursuits. The gallery walls carried mock-ups of theatre posters, scale models of sets, and rare photographs from productions such as Tughlaq and Andha Yug. A striking installation titled The Alkazi Times presented a 60-foot timeline of his life interspersed with historical headlines, political events, and theatre milestones. Every exhibit spoke of discipline, innovation, and vision. For visitors and practitioners of arts alike, the show became a bridge between the past and the present, reminding us how one man’s singular dedication reshaped Indian theatre.

This exhibition was meant to culminate on his 91st birthday, 18 October 2016—a symbolic celebration of his lifelong engagement with the stage. Unfortunately, owing to health restrictions, Alkazi could not travel to attend the valedictory of the exhibition. Yet, his presence was deeply felt in every corner of the NGMA’s galleries that day.

The Legacy of a Theatre Sage

Ebrahim Alkazi redefined what theatre could mean in India. Before him, the stage was often treated as ephemeral—a transient form without permanence. He gave it gravitas, structure, and academic legitimacy.

He combined the modernist precision of RADA with India’s classical and folk energies, building bridges between natya, ritual, and modern dramaturgy. He introduced new ethics to rehearsal, emphasized the architectural design of performance spaces, and placed lighting and scenography at the heart of theatrical creation.

Under his influence, theatre ceased to be an isolated art; it became an ecosystem involving painters, writers, architects, and photographers. His legacy thus straddles not only performance but also education, curation, and institution-building.

His trilogy of Padma awards—Padma Shri (1966), Padma Bhushan (1991), and Padma Vibhushan (2010)—recognizes a lifetime devoted to cultural nation-building. Yet, beyond awards, his truest legacy lies in the generations of artists he trained and the institutional ethos he instilled: integrity, humility, and creative rigor.

A century after his birth, Alkazi’s ideas remain strikingly relevant. At a time when performance is often reduced to spectacle, his belief in process and disciplinestands as a corrective. When arts institutions struggle for continuity, his example reminds us of the necessity of pedagogic vision and institutional stewardship. In an age of digital immediacy, Alkazi’s insistence on rigorous preparation and respect for every aspect of stagecraft feels almost revolutionary. His theatre was not about instant applause; it was about building a culture of excellence, a collective standard that transcended the individual performer.

Alkazi was a man of Arab descent who chose to stay in India, contributing to the shaping of its modern cultural identity. As we commemorate Ebrahim Alkazi’s centenary today, we remember the eternal dramatist, mentor, and visionary of Indian theatre. Long live his legacy.

World Anaesthesia Day: A Journey through History, Science, Curiosity and Compassion

 

One of my class buddies from Sainik School Bijapur (SSBJ), Dr Gurunath Suryavanshi – Gurrya to us – is a doctor specialised in Anaesthesia and as expected his morning message in our Tigers 77, buddies’ group – friends whose friendship date back to the year 1970, when we all joined the SSBJ and stayed together in the residential school until 1977 – was Happy World Anaesthesia Day”. This post of mine, as a science communicator, ​therefore is courtesy my buddy Gurrya and as a mark of respect to him and his profession.

Let me therefore, start my write up on this occasion wishing you all specially Dr Guru, a Happy World Anaesthesia Day. This is a day. which we must remember not just as a medical milestone, but a turning point in medical science and human empathy. It marks the moment when science and its application in medicine stepped into the space of suffering and said — pain need not be endured.  World Anaesthesia Day commemorates the birth of anaesthesia on 16 October 1846, when doctors at Massachusetts General Hospital demonstrated the use of ether for the first time on a patient.

Despite nearly 180 years having passed since that first anaesthetic procedure, and the countless breakthroughs that have followed, according to the World Federation of Societies of Anaesthesiologists, nearly 5 billion people still lack access to safe anaesthesia practices. It is therefore necessary that we create global awareness days like World Anaesthesia Day with a hope that they serve as powerful advocacy tools to mobilise political will, educate the general public, and reinforce the achievements of the global anaesthesia community.

Each year, for World Anaesthesia Day, the WFSA focuses on a different aspect of anaesthesia care and this year 2025, ‘Anaesthesiology in Health Emergencies’ has been chosen as the theme for World Anaesthesia Day.

On October 16, 1846, in the Ether Dome of the Massachusetts General Hospital, a young dentist, William Morton, administered ether to a patient undergoing surgery, thus became the first person to use what we now call anaesthesia. When the operation ended, surgeon John Warren turned to the crowd and said, “Gentlemen, this is no humbug.” Thus began the age of anaesthesia. But, as with most great achievements in science and its applications for human benefit, the roots of this great moment reach far deeper into the soil of curiosity, courage, and communication. The success of use of Anaesthesia in Surgery for the first time in history by William Morton was, an outcome of his understanding on he could see further “by standing on the shoulders of giants”, a profound statement of Newton.

This journey begins with the 18^th century, an age when air itself was being discovered. Chemists like Joseph Priestley and Antoine Lavoisier were revealing that air was not one element but many — oxygen, hydrogen, and other invisible gases. Among them was one that could make us laugh — the nitrous oxide. Incidentally, the intellectual genealogy of anaesthesia from its proto-ideas began with pneumatic chemistry. One of its early practitioners was a young, brilliant experimenter — Humphry Davy.

In the year 1799, Humphrey Devy inhaled and analysed gases in pursuit of their effects on the human body and he did this experiment at Dr. Thomas Beddoes’s Pneumatic Institution in Bristol, UK. Devy meticulously recorded his experiences of “euphoria, exhilaration, and a curious absence of pain”. In 1800, he published his findings in a work titled “Researches, Chemical and Philosophical; Chiefly Concerning Nitrous Oxide.” In his book, Davy wrote a prophetic sentence — and I quote: “As nitrous oxide appears capable of destroying physical pain, it may probably be used with advantage during surgical operations.” This statement done in 1800 — forty-six years before Morton’s demonstration, foretold the future of painless surgery, that William Morton would go on to perform nearly fifty years later in 1846. I am concentrating slightly more on Devy, primarily because of his conviction that science should be seen, felt, and shared, a Mantra for any science communicator, my tribe.

​Davy’s genius was not confined only to the laboratory.  At the Royal Institution in London, where he worked, he transformed chemistry into Public Demonstration Lecture theatre — with sparks, flames, and poetry. He was a big draw. People flocked to see him, not merely for what he discovered, but for the wonder he inspired and the way he communicated his findings to the people. He was one of the first true science communicators — a pioneer of public engagement long before the term was coined.

​Among those captivated by Davy’s lectures was a young bookbinder’s apprentice named Michael Faraday. Inspired by Davy’s demonstrations, Faraday took notes, wrote to him, and was taken on as his assistant. From that relationship bloomed one of the most inspiring mentorships in the history of science. Faraday went on to revolutionise our understanding of electricity and magnetism — yet he always credited Davy for teaching him not just how to experiment, but how to communicate the wonders of science to the people, the end users of the applications of science.

​Davy’s compassion, too, found expression in invention. In 1815, faced with the tragedy of miners dying in methane explosions, he devised the Davy Safety Lamp — a simple flame shielded by wire gauze that prevented the ignition of flammable gas. It saved countless lives during the Industrial Revolution. Here again, knowledge became kindness.

​The story of anaesthesia follows a similar arc — science serving humanity. After Davy’s observations, others followed: Crawford Long in 1842 with ether, Horace Wells in 1844 with nitrous oxide, William Morton’s public demonstration in 1846, and James Young Simpson’s introduction of chloroform in 1847.

​Each built upon the works of the other to shed new insights to arrive at what we now call anaesthesia - a wonder outcome of chemistry which could subdue or nullify pain, with the understanding of nature’s chemistry.

Speaking of surgery as an Indian, and that too a person who had the honour to curate Our Science and Technology Heritage exhibition, I am reminded of a story of ingenuity that predates the Ether Dome by over two millennia. For an Indian audience, who constitute most of my readers, and also to the science communicators among my readers, the journey to painless surgery must also acknowledge our own pioneering Sushruta - the 'Father of Surgery,' who performed complex operations—including rhinoplasty and cataract removal—in ancient India millennia before Ether Dome. In an era where a single inhalation of ether was unimaginable, it is inconceivable as to how did Sushruta and his contemporaries cope with the extreme pain of surgery?

​Sushruta’s approach, detailed in the Sushruta Samhita, was a brilliant, pre-scientific effort to harness nature's pharmacy. Sushruta was not seeking to eliminate consciousness entirely, but to alleviate suffering and induce temporary sedation. This coping mechanism relied heavily on the knowledge of naturally available herbal extracts (like those from the cannabis plant, Indian Hemp), potent alcoholic drinks (madhya or fermented wines), and, significantly, compounds from the poppy plant, or opium (ahiphena). These substances were believed to be combined and administered to the patient prior to the procedure, dulling the senses just enough to make the agonizing experience bearable. We have artistically recreated a diorama of Sushruta performing his surgery in the exhibition at National Science Centre, New Delhi. This ancient practice, using empirical observation to achieve human compassion, underscores a vital point for us today: the yearning to relieve pain has always been humanity's oldest instinct, and science—whether modern pharmacology or ancient herbalism—has always been its most refined instrument.

​Today, as we stand in a world shaped by data, artificial intelligence, and digital revolutions, Davy’s spirit feels close. His belief that knowledge must reach people, not remain confined in journals, must echo through every science museum and science centre and must be told by every science communicator, every museum exhibit, every digital platform that strives to make discovery public and participatory.

​Perhaps, if Davy lived today, he might stand not behind a wooden lecture bench but before a camera or AI screen — still explaining, still inspiring, still connecting curiosity to compassion.

​So, on this World Anaesthesia Day, let us celebrate not only the physicians and scientists who banished pain, but also the communicators who made their discoveries part of human culture. Science is not only about understanding the world; it is about improving it. From laughing gas to the light of the Davy lamp, from ancient herbs to neural networks—it is the same story, told in new languages.

​Every discovery, when shared, becomes a gift, which I am happy to share with my blog readers, courtesy Dr Guru, my buddy.

Images: Courtesy Wikipedia 

International Day of Scientific Culture (IDSC) - India’s Scientific Culture: From Harappa to Chandrayaan

 

International Day of Scientific Culture (IDSC) - India’s Scientific Culture: From Harappa to Chandrayaan

Today, September 28, the world observes the International Day of Scientific Culture (IDSC). It is an occasion not only to celebrate the scientific research inventions, and discoveries that is conducted in research laboratories, but also to reflect on the mindset that fuels progress—rationality, observation, critical inquiry, and openness to evidence. For India, this day has a special resonance. I had the honour to be a part of this commemoration this year as one of the speakers at the Gurunanak College of Arts and Sciences, Mumbai, which commemorated this event yesterday. Before I delve on what I spoke yesterday - “India’s Scientific Legacy Rooted in Antiquity” - let me begin with the genesis for commemorating this day-IDSC and how important it is to mark this day, more so in the current context of geopolitical conflict which we are witnessing in the world today.

On 28 September 1980, an American television aired the first episode of Carl Sagan’s “Cosmos: A Personal Voyage”, on the Public Broadcasting Services(PBS). It was a new public conversation aired on TV about who we are and how we know. Cosmos became an instant hit, appealing to its audience and over the years’ millions of people around the world enjoyed this serial, and for many that serial was the first time science was spoken to them in a language which they could connect with. It was a human story — grand, poetic, moral. Cosmos was a classic example of how science can be communicated to the people in a language which could connect with them and for science communicators, yours truly included, Cosmos remains an inspiration.

Sagan taught us that science is a way of seeing. He wrote and spoke as if to remind humanity that “we are a way for the cosmos to know itself.” That phrase, simple and humble, captures why the anniversary of Cosmos matters beyond nostalgia: it marks the moment when scientific knowledge was framed as part of culture, not apart from it.

One enduring image associated with Sagan carries that message more sharply than the Pale Blue Dot. When Voyager 1, far beyond the outer planets, turned its camera back toward Earth, the planet shrank to a speck in a sunbeam — a “pale blue dot.” For Sagan, that image was humbling showing our insignificant yet profoundly singular position in the vast cosmos. It showed us that no other cradle of human life exists in the cosmos. The sight of Earth as a solitary, fragile point revealed our relative smallness in the vast universe, and an overwhelming uniqueness of the world that sustains us.

The core message of Carl Sagan's "Pale Blue Dot" is a profound and direct response to the kind of land conflicts and geopolitical divisions we see today. In his famous passage from the book Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space, he writes: "Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every 'superstar,' every 'supreme leader,' every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there—on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam."  

Sagan's objective was to challenge our sense of self-importance and the "delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe." He explicitly connects this cosmic insignificance to human conflicts, saying:  "Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds."  

Therefore, the concept of the "Pale Blue Dot" is not just about our insignificance; it is a direct and powerful appeal for peace, unity, and a focus on our shared home. By presenting a grand, humbling perspective, Sagan's message advocates that the petty conflicts that consume us are rendered absurd when viewed against the backdrop of an endless cosmos. It calls for a shift from fighting over "a fraction of a dot" to preserving the one and only place we have to make a living in this vast cosmos. This message is more relevant than ever today in encouraging a global focus on sustainability and shared humanity. 

The International Day of Science Culture (IDSC), observed since 2020, helps us remind ourselves of this singularity of our position, even as it exemplifies our uniqueness and encourages us to reach out to schools, colleges, museums, media and civic institutions to treat science as a cultural resource: one that sharpens citizenship, inspires creativity, and equips societies to make better choices. In an age of rapid technological change and contested truths, celebrating science as culture is not an optional nicety — it is a civic necessity.

India’s Scientific Legacy Rooted in Antiquity

Scientific culture is not new to India. The Sindhu Sarasvati (Harappan) Civilisation, which flourished nearly 4500 years ago, displayed remarkable scientific achievements: urban planning with underground drainage, standardised baked bricks, advanced water management, and—most impressively—precision in weights and measures across a vast geography. This standardisation reflects not just craft, but a rational, systematised approach to daily life.

Mathematics and astronomy flourished in the following centuries. The Baudhyayana Sulba Sutras demonstrated geometrical reasoning, including principles akin to the Pythagorean theorem. Aryabhata in the 5th century CE described the Earth’s rotation and offered models of planetary motion. The modern day decimal place value system including the profoundly significant number Zero originated from India and travelled to the world through the Arabs. The Kerala School of Astronomy pioneered infinite series expansions, antedating aspects of calculus long before Newton.

In medicine, the Charaka Samhita and Sushruta Samhita laid the foundations of Ayurveda. Sushruta, often hailed as the father of surgery, detailed surgical instruments and techniques still admired today. Metallurgy was equally advanced—the Delhi Iron Pillar stands rust-free for 1,600 years, and large-scale zinc smelting at Zawar, Rajasthan, points to industrial-level chemical engineering. These achievements were not isolated. They were evidence of a culture where rational thinking, systematic documentation, and practical application of knowledge were respected and transmitted.

This trajectory of growth, however, faced severe interruptions. Centuries of invasions, colonial exploitation, and the dismantling of indigenous institutions weakened India’s scientific pursuits. By the time of Independence, India was portrayed as a land of superstition and poverty, rather than knowledge and innovation.

Yet, India’s scientific culture never fully disappeared. It resurfaced in modern times, when our founding leaders recognised science as central to nation-building. Jawaharlal Nehru famously called industries and academic institutions the “temples of modern India.” The creation of TIFR, IITs, CSIR labs, ISRO, and agricultural research institutes built the foundations for a modern scientific nation. Importantly, our Constitution enshrined the development of a “scientific temper” as a Fundamental Duty—a powerful acknowledgement that rationality is not alien to India but intrinsic to its identity.

In 2017, the London Science Museum showcased this story in its landmark exhibition “Illuminating India: 5000 Years of Science and Innovation.” I had the privilege of contributing to this exhibition as the Nodal Officer. This exhibition offered the world a panoramic view of India’s scientific legacy. It was a reminder that India has always been a source of scientific ideas that shaped human progress—whether the concept of zero, metallurgy, or medical traditions or more recently its success at frugal costs in its successful space endeavours – Chandrayan and Mangalyaan.

Seventy-five years after Independence, India’s scientific culture has once again placed it at the forefront of global science and technology. Our space programme has captured global imagination: the Mars Orbiter Mission succeeded on its maiden attempt at a fraction of the cost of comparable missions; Chandrayaan-3’s soft landing on the Moon’s south pole made history. In digital innovation, India leads the world in developing scalable platforms like Aadhaar and UPI.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, the scientific temper of the nation was put to the test. Despite early challenges, India not only developed indigenous vaccines at record speed but also rolled out the world’s largest vaccination drive. Importantly, the acceptance of vaccines by the Indian public—at a time when hesitancy plagued many Western countries—reflected trust in scientific solutions deeply rooted in cultural attitudes toward health and community.

Yet, the picture is not without concern. Pseudoscience, misinformation, and superstition continue to challenge rational discourse. Social media amplifies unverified claims, eroding trust in evidence-based thinking. To truly honour our civilisational heritage, we must defend scientific culture from these threats.

As we celebrate the International Day of Scientific Culture, let us remember: science in India is not an imported value. It is our inheritance. The world recognised this in London in 2017. Our Constitution enshrines it. Our achievements in space and medicine prove it.

The challenge before us is to ensure that this culture of rationality, inquiry, and innovation is not undermined by misinformation or complacency. If we succeed, India will not only rise as an economic power but also as a beacon of scientific culture for the 21st century.

That would be the true fulfilment of our heritage—and our responsibility to the future.