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.

Blood Moon 2025: From Aryabhata’s Genius to Tonight’s Spectacle

 

Tonight (7–8 September, 2025), the skies over India and much of the world will stage a grand celestial spectacle — a total lunar eclipse, popularly called the Blood Moon, which is already being hyped across media. Though nit as spectacular as the Total Solar Eclipse, the Lunar Eclipse is special because of its longevity in its occurrence and also the fact that it comes with no risk of seeing with naked eye. Tonight, moon, the lone satellite of our planet earth, which has been so romanticised by the Bollywood movies in the past with soulful melodies sung in honour of the full moon, will be bathed in its coppery red hue for more than an hour – 82 minutes to be precise. The lunar eclipse, and the so called blood moon, will be visible to the naked eye across India and can be seen without any special eye protective wearables.

Courtesy wide publicity by the media and special arrangements made in most cities by science centres, and planetariums, this astronomical moment of awe and wonder is sure to attract many to look at the night sky to witness this celestial theatrical play between our planet earth its satellite, the moon and our Sun, whose movements unfold tonight’s celestial spectacle. Unfortunately, there will still be many, pressured by the astrologers, who may believe in age-old myths and rituals; but for science communicators, like yours truly, it is an opportunity to celebrate both nature’s precision and India’s scientific heritage.

Cosmic Clockwork: Geometry of Lunar and Solar Eclipses

What makes eclipses so enchanting is the delicate geometry of the Earth–Moon–Sun system. The Earth, nearly 12,742 km in diameter, is about four times larger than the Moon, which measures 3,474 km across. Yet because the Moon is so much closer — only about 3.84 lakh km from Earth — while the Sun, though 400 times wider than the Moon (about 1.39 million km across), is also about 400 times farther away (roughly 15 crore km), they appear almost the same size in our sky. This cosmic coincidence allows the Moon to neatly cover the Sun during solar eclipses, and lets the Earth’s much larger shadow engulf the Moon during lunar eclipses. All this is orchestrated by the steady motions of rotation and revolution: the Earth spinning on its axis once every 24 hours, the Moon circling Earth every 27 days, and the Earth orbiting the Sun once a year. Tomorrow’s total lunar eclipse is a direct outcome of this elegant celestial clockwork.

Blood Moon

·    Tonight’s, lunar eclipse will commence around 8.58 PM and end at 2.25 AM on 8 September.  The totality of the eclipse, called the blood moon phase will occur between 11PM to 12.22 AM. During the Totality of the lunar eclipse, the moon will not vanish into blackness but glows red. This blood red appearance is a result of the Rayleigh scattering — the same effect that makes our sunsets crimson. As sunlight passes through Earth’s atmosphere, the shorter blue wavelengths are filtered out, while the longer red wavelengths are refracted into the umbra, softly painting the lunar surface in shades of red and orange. Depending on atmospheric conditions — dust, pollution — the Moon will appear bright copper or an eerie dark maroon.

Tomorrow’s eclipse will be one of the longest of the decade. It provides a great opportunity for Mumbaikars and others from across the subcontinent, to gaze at the night sky and look up and marvel at natures wonders.

Supermoons, Blue Moons, and Media Hype

The media often headlines celestial occurrences under captivating headlines Supermoon, Blood Moon, Super Blue Blood Moon. These terms are media inventions — catchy labels designed to capture attention in an age of short attention spans. They are briefly described below.

• A Supermoon occurs when a full Moon coincides with the Moon’s closest approach to Earth, making it appear up to 14% brighter and 7% larger.
• A Blue Moon is simply the second full Moon in a calendar month.
• A Blood Moon is the reddish Moon during totality, which is happening tonight

When all three occur together, as in January 2018, it is hyped as a “Super Blue Blood Moon.” As Director of the Nehru Science Centre at the time, I remember how we hosted public viewing sessions for that rare trifecta — the first in 35 years. Crowds gathered, telescopes were trained, and for a moment, science and wonder blended seamlessly under the Mumbai night sky.

Similarly, on Buddha Purnima, May 26, 2021, amid the gloom of COVID-19 lockdowns, we live-streamed the Supermoon and lunar eclipse for thousands of viewers. Despite Mumbai’s cloudy skies, the brief glimpses we managed felt like precious gifts in dark times.

These past experiences remind me that while hype sells, it also brings people closer to science. Even exaggerated labels have their use — they make the public look up at the heavens.

Myths, Legends, and the Indian Tradition

For millennia, eclipses have evoked a mixture of fear and reverence. In Indian mythology, the demon Rahu is said to swallow the Sun or Moon, causing an eclipse. According to the Puranas, Rahu, having deceitfully consumed a drop of Amrit during the churning of the ocean, was beheaded by Vishnu. The immortal head became Rahu, and the body became Ketu, forever chasing the Sun and Moon across the sky. Such stories infused eclipses with ritual significance. Even today, many households in India observe Sutak, a period of fasting and ritual purity before and during eclipses. People avoid cooking, eating, or making important decisions. While these practices persist, it is also true that India has always nurtured a parallel, scientific tradition and the mythical beliefs and practices are gradually fading out from society, courtesy the public awareness programmes conducted by science communicators, science centres and planetariums.

Aryabhata: The First Indian to Demystify Eclipses

Nearly 1,500 years ago, ancient Indian mathematician and astronomer Aryabhata (476 CE) revolutionized our understanding of celestial mechanics. In his magnum opus, the Aryabhatiya, he:

• Asserted that the Earth is spherical and rotates on its axis once a day.
• Dismissed Rahu and Ketu as mythological constructs, explaining eclipses as shadows of the Earth and Moon.
• Provided mathematical algorithms to predict the timing and size of eclipses with remarkable accuracy.

Aryabhata’s ideas were bold, often ridiculed by contemporaries including Varahamihira and Brahmagupta, who clung to geocentric orthodoxy. Yet his insights endured. Later Indian astronomers like Lalla and Bhaskara I expanded his methods, and through translations, Aryabhata’s models influenced Islamic and European astronomy.

When we watch midnight Blood Moon, we are witnessing precisely the phenomenon Aryabhata described — shadows cast in celestial alignment. To think that such predictive knowledge was developed in India a millennium before Copernicus is a source of pride and inspiration for all Indians.

Long Journey of Eclipses in Science

Eclipses have long been scientific laboratories. The Total solar eclipse of 1868, observed in Guntur, India, led to the discovery of helium — the only element first identified outside Earth. The 1919 total solar eclipse famously confirmed Einstein’s theory of general relativity, as starlight was shown to bend around the Sun’s gravity.

Even today, astronomers study eclipses to better understand atmospheric conditions, both terrestrial and lunar. Each event is not just a spectacle but also an opportunity to test, measure, and learn.

From Fear to Celebration Change in Public Perception

What strikes me most is how India’s relationship with eclipses has transformed over time from fear to celebration. In earlier times, eclipses were feared as bad omens and roads were seen empty and people closed indoors during eclipses. But today, with rising awareness, they are celebrated as community events. Science centres, planetariums astronomy clubs, schools, and citizen groups organise watch parties, often with telescopes and live commentary. One of my school alumni, Dinesh Badagandi operates a fleet of mobile planetariums under the banner of Tare Zameen Par across Karnataka and adjoining states to create awareness on astronomy and space and an impact assessment study commissioned by the state Government of Karnataka has emphasises its positive impact across the schools in the state of Karnataka.

I am reminded of Prof. Yash Pal, whose live TV commentary during the 1995 Total Solar Eclipse helped millions shed superstition and embrace the eclipse as a natural wonder. His work, and that of countless science communicators, has turned eclipses from portents of doom into festivals of learning. I fondly recall that during an annular solar eclipse in Delhi, the National Science Centre, of which I was the Director had made special arrangement for viewing the solar eclipse and one of the arrangements included a free breakfast for all the visitors, main aim was to dispel the myth of food getting poisoned during eclipse. Almost every visitor, some of them after initial hesitation, joined us in taking food during the eclipse helping bust the myths associated with eclipses.

Tomorrow’s event gives us another chance to continue this tradition — to inspire young minds, to foster curiosity, and to remind ourselves of our place in the cosmos.

 A Midnight Invitation

As midnight approaches on September 7, 2025, step outside. Look up at the Moon as it turns red in Earth’s shadow. Think of the myths of Rahu, the genius of Aryabhata, the experiments of modern scientists, and be happy to be blessed to find our own unique place in this vast universe with billions of galaxies each having billions of their own solar systems with their own planets and their moons, yet as we know today we are perhaps alone in this universe and let us all be proud of our position and let us all join hands in protecting our planet.

The Lunar eclipse which we will witness is not just a spectacle for our eyes, but also for the mind and spirit. A reminder that the same Moon that inspired poets, puzzled ancient sky-watchers, and challenged mathematicians still shines (reflected light) upon us, timeless and unchanging.

So tonight, let us celebrate not fear. Let us observe not merely with our eyes, but with wonder and gratitude. For in the story of an eclipse, we glimpse both the poetry of myth and the precision of science — and the eternal human quest to understand the heavens.

Happy viewing