Reflection-1

Next evening, at Dr. Azad’s clinic. He is seated on a wooden chair, reading a case sheet. Kabir walks in with the book, followed by Rohan and Aarav.

Kabir: Uncle, do you have a moment? We found this book in the library. It is untitled. We just finished the first lesson where Charaka is talking to his students.

Dr. Azad: Charaka? As in the Charaka Samhita?

Rohan: It is not the original text. It is in English, and it reads more like a dialogue. The teacher and students speak to one another. It feels like a story, but with interesting ideas.

Kabir (handing him the book): See for yourself. Lesson 1 is titled The Expedition.

Dr. Azad (reads silently for a few minutes): This is quite distinctive. The language is careful and reflective. The teacher encourages observation before instruction. There are no lists of herbs or diseases. Instead, it focuses on how to perceive the world.

Aarav: We wondered if this even qualifies as legitimate Ayurveda.

Dr. Azad: It appears legitimate and faithful to the original ideas. The lesson is built around the theory of the five Mahābhūtas: space, air, fire, water, and earth. These are not physical elements in the sense used by modern chemistry, but rather foundational aspects of experiential reality. This represents Ayurveda in its classical form.

Kabir: Did they know that sound needs a medium for its transmission? Outer space does not transmit sound. Isn’t it?

Dr. Azad: They had no means of knowing what is vacuum. They meant space as in the space between you and me, with no objects in it.

Kabir: If a modern physicist or chemist reads this, what would they say?

Dr. Azad: They would probably reject the framework if they interpreted it as a theory of material composition. In physics and chemistry, an element is defined as a substance composed of only one type of atom. So oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and gold are considered elements, but water, carbon dioxide, air, and saliva are not. The Mahābhūtas are not elements in that atomic sense. However, if understood as a system for organizing sensory experience, and as a way of discerning patterns of such experience, some might recognise its value. These two approaches are not necessarily opposed; they can be combined and integrated.

Aarav: I was reading the first few pages of A Brief History of Time last week, where Hawking says that a scientific theory must make testable predictions. He mentions the ancient Greek theory of four elements, proposed by Empedocles and later accepted by Aristotle. He points out that it doesn’t make such predictions. Does the pañcamahābhūta theory do that? And if not, how can it be combined or integrated with modern science?

Dr. Azad: Not in the way Hawking intended. The theory of pañcamahābhūta does not produce testable predictions in the sense required of contemporary scientific theories, though it does present certain broad, qualitative anticipations. For example, it posits that food dominated by the Pṛthvī mahābhūta supports bodily nourishment and, when consumed in excess, may result in overnutrition. However, such a prediction becomes plausible only when this theory is interpreted through the framework of the Sāmānya–Viśeṣa principle. In the absence of this supporting principle, the predictive power of the pañcamahābhūta theory appears limited.

Aarav: I think this theory was not developed to make predictions that can be tested through controlled experiments aimed at explaining material phenomena. Am I correct?

Dr. Azad: Well-said. It functions as a heuristic framework, a conceptual structure for organizing human experience via the senses. It articulates how we perceive and categorize qualities such as solidity (Pṛthvī), fluidity (Āpas), heat (Tejas or Agni), motion (Vāyu), and sound or space (Ākāśa). Its purpose lies more in phenomenological explanation than empirical verification.

Aarav: Are you indicating the sciences like cognitive ecology? I was reading about that recently.

Dr. Azad: Precisely. From the perspective of cognitive ecology, the theory might function as a model for how people relate to their environment through their experiences. So, integration does not mean treating the mahābhūta theory as equivalent to atomic theory or molecular biology. It means recognising the different roles they play. One tells us how the body or matter functions at a biochemical level. The other tells us how people historically made sense of their sensory experience and guided therapeutic choices through that lens.

(Pauses for a while and then continues)

Dr. Azad: That is just one way to think about the relationship. I may be wrong, of course.

Rohan: So, does that mean this framework is based on perception or the observer? That would make it entirely subjective!

Dr. Azad: We should be careful with how we use the word subjective. Suppose we define a subjective statement as one that reports what exists in the mind of the speaker, while an objective statement reports what exists in the external world. Consider this: the statement “When we look at the night sky, the moon appears bigger than the stars” is subjective, but true. The statement “The moon is bigger than the stars” is objective, but false. So, not all subjective statements are false, and not all objective statements are true.

Rohan: Wow, I hadn’t thought about it that way. But when I said subjective, I meant “different for different people.” Like when one person says “I like mangoes” and another says “I hate mangoes”, it doesn’t make sense to ask which of them is right.

Dr Azad: Good clarification. Now, is the statement “Humans perceive unripe mangoes, lemon, and tamarind as sour, but ripe mangoes, cane juice, and sugar as sweet” subjective in the sense you just described?

Rohan: Okay, I would say no. It is a statement about human sense perception, but those perceptions are broadly consistent across people.

Dr Azad: Good. Now that we have that issue settled, let me continue. This abstract framework emerged when ancient scholars encountered puzzling phenomena. For example, a rock, a tree, a diamond, and a copper plate are all hard, yet the hardness they exhibit differs in kind and degree.

Rohan: Ah, now I get that. It is like saying mango juice, honey, and sugarcane juice are all sweet, but not equally so- right?

Kabir: The redness of a rose, the setting sun, and a hibiscus flower varies, even though all are described as red.

Dr. Azad: Precisely. How were these differences to be explained? It is in human nature that we seek explanations to such puzzling phenomena. How come that all sour substances, no matter how different in other respects, cause milk to split when boiled, while sweet substances don’t cause milk splitting? That is puzzling, isn’t it? They developed the concept of the five Mahābhūtas to account for such variations and puzzles, attributing them to differences in proportion and combination.

Rohan: Well, I think we must remember that this was a pre-Daltonian, pre-Newtonian, and pre-Mendeleev worldview. Even today, scientists acknowledge that observation is shaped by perception, context, and environment.

Kabir: So it is clear that this is different from the science that we study in school. But I need to know more. I find this intriguing! Tell me more!

Dr. Azad (Smiling): Well, let me begin by saying that science is a body of knowledge that results from scientific inquiry. While what we consider to be ‘scientific knowledge’ changes and evolves, though the principles of scientific inquiry can remain consistent.

Rohan: Could you give an example to elaborate this?

Dr. Azad: Well, when Dalton proposed that molecules are composed of atoms, and that atoms are indivisible units of matter, he was following the principles of scientific reasoning available at the time. Later, we discovered that atoms are divisible: they consist of electrons and atomic nuclei. At one stage in the history of science, we thought that atomic nuclei were indivisible, but that too turned out to be incorrect.

Rohan: I get it now.  We now understand nuclei to be composed of protons and neutrons. Even these are no longer considered fundamental, as they are composed of smaller, indivisible particles known as quarks. Am I correct?

Kabir: Are electrons indivisible? What if it turns out that they too are composed of something even more fundamental?

Dr Azad (laughing): Quite possible. And that is an essential characteristic of scientific knowledge: nothing is absolutely certain. We currently believe that electrons are indivisible, and that belief is justified based on current evidence. But we also remain open to the possibility that this belief could be overturned. That is why we must continue to doubt and question even what we think is true.

Rohan: I need time to wrap my head around that. We must doubt and question what we believe to be true?

Aarav: Dr. Azad, if what you’re saying is the best way to understand scientific knowledge and scientific inquiry, then the way we are taught science in school is the opposite of that. We are taught science as if it were totally certain and infallible.

Dr Azad: I can’t disagree with you on that.

Aarav: What intrigued me about the mysterious book was the method of learning. The students are told to live in forests and villages. The classroom comes only later. It seems to me that this is more in harmony with scientific inquiry than what happens in our classrooms today.

Dr. Azad: That pedagogical approach reflects the epistemology of scientific inquiry.

Aarav: What is epistemology?

Dr Aazad: Epistemology is the study of knowledge: its nature, its structure, and the criteria for establishing what qualifies as knowledge. In both ancient Ayurveda and modern science, true knowledge is thought to arise from sense perception, observation (aided when needed by instruments), reasoning, doubting, questioning, arguing, debating, and only then systematic teaching. The structure of the text you borrowed mirrors that very sequence.

Aarav: Can you give me an example?

Dr. Azad:Certainly. Take the example of how we define a category such as insects. We identify them as organisms with two pairs of wings, compound eyes, and six legs. Now, some creatures might resemble insects superficially, but if they lack these defining features, they do not belong to the category. This categorization arises from repeated observation and careful conceptualization. That process—how we arrive at such definitions and critically evaluate definitions through structured inquiry—is part of the epistemology of modern biology.

Kabir: Thank you! That is a clear example!

Aarav: The teacher asks the students to return not with answers, but with questions! That stayed with me.

Dr. Azad: That is deliberate. In many Indian traditions, the capacity to question is seen as the hallmark of an advanced student. Without questions, observation does not become insight. This text aims to cultivate questioning attitude.

Rohan: Do you think we should continue reading it together?

Dr. Azad: Yes, absolutely. Bring me each chapter. This is not just a forgotten manuscript. It is a rare attempt to reconstruct how knowledge may have emerged through careful observation and sustained questioning. I would like to follow this with you.

The teenagers agreed without hesitation. With the book carefully in hand, they returned to Kabir’s home, ready to begin the next chapter.

“Today I will play Charaka,” said Rohan, settling into his seat with a thoughtful expression. The others smiled and opened the book, ready to bring the voices of the next lesson to life.

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