Building Blocks of Science

The Beginning

For as long as I can remember, one of the few constants in my life has been the sense of awe associated with my home. As peculiar as it may sound, despite having lived in this house for over fifteen years, the sight of the khatamband ceiling in our lobby continues to feel like a spectacle.

An argument could be made that woodworking or carpentry is one of the few facets of our traditional Kashmiri knowledge that we have not forsaken as we have progressed. Carpenters play an undeniably vital role in the construction of a home, as they are responsible for transforming a structure from a mere box of bricks into a salubrious enclosure one may truly consider a home.

The khatamband design chosen for our ceiling was most likely an extension of this tradition, and the way the polygonal shapes overlap lends it an almost kaleidoscopic appearance, enhanced by an illusion of depth.

One particular detail that captivated me was how the individual wooden pieces forming a single polygon were all straight, yet were joined obliquely so that the resulting shape appeared nearly circular. This technique of joining wood was one of the first elements that drew me toward the craft of woodworking.

However, this curiosity remained dormant in the recesses of my mind for quite some time, and it would suffice to say that the seeds of my hobby had yet to sprout.

First Steps

It began as a simple idea I once had. I was assisting my father with a few repairs around the house, and during the process, I came across several pieces of wood stacked beside our shed.

They were remnants from the previous year's firewood supply. They weren’t branches or logs, they were blocks cut from a beam-the sort that could be fashioned into virtually anything.

I promptly picked them up and kept them in my room. Although I was uncertain of how they might be used, I chose to store them in case this fleeting interest developed into something more substantial.

It was during the summer that the idea emerged. I had recently studied the structures of various carbon compounds in school, a topic I found both fascinating and novel, and my interest grew with every new structure I encountered.

These representations were flat, two-dimensional drawings that served as simplified depictions of real molecules. A few Google searches were sufficient to reveal that these structures were far more complex in reality.

In the real world, molecules assume idealised geometric forms depending on the number of atoms involved. For example, butane-the gas used in most lighters, adopts a shape resembling a tree branch, with a carbon "backbone" and hydrogen atoms branching off from it.

These spatial arrangements inspired me, and I began compiling a list of molecules I wished to recreate using the wooden blocks.

Once I had assembled this list, I began by using a ruler and pen to draw what resembled a grid on the wooden block. As I would later discover, this step was largely unnecessary, as I was usually able to approximate the correct dimensions intuitively and refine them later.

To hone my skills, I started by cutting small cubes from the wood using a hacksaw. Within half an hour, I had produced three dozen unfinished wooden cubes, each roughly the size of my thumbnail. These would serve as the atoms for my models. However, one crucial component was still missing.

I lacked a suitable material for making wooden dowels, which were essential as they would function as the bonds between atoms. Without them, the structures would simply not be feasible. Fortunately, I managed to devise a solution to this problem that was both highly renewable and remarkably effective, and it felt as though I had captured lightning in a bottle.

Kulfi-wallas can be found in nearly every corner of Srinagar during the summer months. They earn a modest income selling kulfis to customers, who typically enjoy them while strolling through gullies or occasionally inside their cars, discarding the sticks through open windows. Ultimately, the manner in which people consume their kulfis is irrelevant; what matters is that the leftover sticks are invariably discarded onto the streets.

I reasoned that collecting these roadside kulfi sticks whenever I went out would be sufficient to establish and maintain a steady supply of the wooden dowels I so desperately needed. In two weeks, I accumulated a supply that has yet to be exhausted.

Once I had the materials, I sanded the wooden cubes into spheres, using sandpaper. This was a technique I already knew. Starting with coarse grit to shape the wood, I worked up to finer grits for smoothing the surface. The final result was a spherical, or at least somewhat oblong, wooden ball. After sanding all the pieces, I ended up with roughly thirty-six variations of this design.

The next step was to convert the kulfi sticks into wooden dowels. Each stick measured approximately fifteen centimeters, so I divided them into three equal segments and sanded their ends once the cutting process was complete.

With all the materials prepared, I was finally ready to assemble the pieces and create the final structures. I first decided which molecules I would construct, then used adhesive to join the individual components, and applied a layer of paint once all the models were complete.

Satisfied with the results, I resolved to further improvise while creating my collection.

Magnum Opus

One day, I conceived the novel idea of constructing a DNA double helix. It served as an ingenious solution to the problem of overproduction, as the structure would be composed almost entirely of the surplus dowels I had accumulated.

I envisioned arranging them in such a way that they would curve naturally, with the space between the two strands filled by a series of rungs representing the base pairs of DNA.

To introduce an additional creative element, I purchased phosphorescent powders online along with a pouring medium, which I mixed at home to produce several phosphorescent paints that glow in the dark after exposure to sunlight. I used paint to coat the series of base pairs running through the centre of the structure.

Last month, I applied the finishing touches to the project after I had set it aside for some weeks.

I initially mounted the entire model on a square base, but after completing the assembly, I decided to reshape it into a circular one and began making the final refinements. I proudly placed the completed piece on display, on a shelf in our lobby. The project represented the culmination of nearly half a year's worth of practice, perseverance, and accumulated experience. Of all the projects I have undertaken thus far, this one alone stood as my ‘magnum opus’.

The day I began my work, I received a newsfeed: James D. Watson, one of the scientists responsible for the discovery of DNA, had coincidentally passed away the same day - 6 November 2025.

Learning the fundamentals of woodworking was transformative, instilling in me the values of dedication and hard work, and also developing a renewed and deeper appreciation for traditional Kashmiri carpentry.