- Kuruvilla Pandikattu SJ
Jayant Vishnu Narlikar, JVN (1938–2025) lived a life illuminated by the stars and deepened by the mysteries beyond them. A legendary astrophysicist, celebrated for his alternative cosmological theories and fearless intellectual independence, Narlikar was more than a scientist–he was a seeker. To understand his life is to glimpse the delicate dance between rational inquiry and spiritual yearning, between the rigour of mathematics and the wonder of existence.
From his early days in Kolhapur, Maharashtra, born to a father who was a mathematician and a mother steeped in classical Indian learning, Narlikar stood at the intersection of science and culture. The house he grew up in valued Sanskrit and symmetries alike, logic and longing, making it almost inevitable that he would later attempt to reconcile the immensity of the universe with the inner world of the human spirit.
Narlikar’s scientific path took him through the highest echelons of global research. His formative work with Fred Hoyle at Cambridge yielded the Hoyle–Narlikar theory of gravity–an elegant rethinking of Einstein’s universe. Together, they dared to imagine a cosmos that was eternal, without a beginning or end, refusing the prevailing Big Bang narrative. In doing so, they invited a more cyclic, regenerative model of the universe–an idea resonant with many Eastern cosmologies that understand time as rhythm rather than arrow.
But what distinguished Narlikar was not just his equations. It was the way he dwelt in the universe. To him, the cosmos was not simply a site of mechanical laws but a space for awe and humility. He resisted the temptation to fill in all the blanks. Where others sought finality, he often gestured toward mystery–not in a mystical sense, but in a profoundly human way that acknowledged the limits of knowing. His lectures often paused to let silence speak, to let wonder seep in.
While he remained a rationalist, skeptical of superstition and vocal in his opposition to astrology and other non-empirical claims, Narlikar did not fall into the trap of scientism. He did not believe that science alone could answer all human questions. He recognised the ethical, aesthetic, and spiritual dimensions of being that lay beyond empirical verification. This openness gave his work a texture rarely seen in academic discourse–a texture of yearning, of grace.
His interest in Indian philosophy, particularly ideas surrounding cyclical time, karma, and non-dualism, quietly accompanied his astronomical inquiries. He rarely framed his scientific ideas in overtly spiritual language, but one could sense that his vision of the cosmos was undergirded by a reverence for life and its interconnections. He often spoke of the smallness of humanity in a universe so vast, not to belittle us, but to ground us, to awaken a sense of shared vulnerability and responsibility.
He did not retreat into religion; rather, he called for a spirituality without dogma. His was a spirituality of contemplation, of patient understanding, of living with the unknown. In an age that increasingly demanded certainty and instant answers, Narlikar invited people to sit with questions, to resist premature closure, to allow the universe to be more than what could be measured.
This sensibility extended to his public life. He founded the Inter-University Centre for Astronomy and Astrophysics (IUCAA) not as an ivory tower, but as a collaborative, democratic space for inquiry. He believed that science should serve humanity–not power, not profit. To him, ethical responsibility was not an afterthought; it was integral to the scientific endeavour. In this, too, one could discern his spiritual maturity: the conviction that knowledge must be wielded with compassion, that curiosity without conscience was incomplete.
In his writings, particularly his science fiction in Marathi, one finds not just imagination but metaphysical reflection. His stories posed questions about identity, mortality, and the possibility of other forms of intelligence–always underpinned by the recognition that human beings are both unique and radically limited. He often portrayed scientists not as omniscient heroes, but as flawed, searching figures–mirrors of our own existential condition.
Even in his final years, JVN continued to speak about the dangers of unchecked technological advancement and the erosion of reflective life. He warned against the loss of slowness, of interiority, of silence. For him, science was not about control but communion–communion with the real, however distant, however ambiguous. His was a voice that reminded us that to truly know the universe, we must also learn to be still within it.
Narlikar passed away on May 20, 2025, leaving behind not just theories and institutions, but a legacy of intellectual humility and spiritual depth. He showed us that one can gaze at the stars and still listen for the silence within; that one can demand evidence without losing reverence. In an era often divided between blind faith and blind scepticism, Narlikar charted a third path–the path of the cosmic pilgrimage, walking with reason, wonder, humility and grace.
