நடைமேடையில் சுருண்டு படுத்திருக்கும் நாயை, தன் தாடையால் சுட்டினான். “அது சிகப்ப பாக்காது, நம்மைப் போல இசைய கேக்காது. ஆனா நம்ம உலகத்துலதான் அதுவும் இருக்கு.”
Is a dog’s life any poorer than a human life just because it can’t perceive what a ‘normal’ human can? Ed Yong’s work in An Immense World explores this question. Yong reminds us that there is no single, correct way to experience the world. Different species perceive reality through entirely different sensory lenses.
We often take for granted the seamless way we perceive the world. Sight, sound, touch – they appear to work in perfect harmony, creating a unified experience of reality. But this integration of the senses is not a given, and it certainly wasn’t always the case.
The narrator of ஒளிரொலி, who’s always acknowledged his friend Nafeez’s deviation from the norm, after reading the draft of his dissertation develops a new-found appreciation for the richness of Nafeez’s diverse perception. Nafeez’s worldview is neither less accurate nor less valid, but just different. And perhaps, in some respects, even more vivid or emotionally textured.
எனக்கு, குரலுடன் சேர்ந்து ஒலிசூழொளியாக மெல்ல சிகப்பு எழுந்தது. சட்டென நாவில் விழுந்த பனிச்சுவைபோல குளிர்ந்து ஒலித்தது. பாடல் வருடவருட மஞ்சளும் பச்சையும் என கதிரும் வயலும் என மெல்ல ஆடியாடி தவழ்ந்து, இசை என்னை அணைத்தது.
This dissertation articulates the sensory divergence through a language that’s just overpoweringly beautiful:
தீ எழுப்பி, செம்மை பூத்து, சங்கம் ஒலித்து, ஒரு குரலில் பலவோசைகளென சரணடைந்தனர். செம்பு உருக்கி, களிமண் மெழுகில் ஊற்றி, பொன்னென வார்த்து, மேனி கண்டு, சொல்மாலை சேர்த்து, பண்ணைக் கிளர்த்தி, ஒளிகண்டு ஒலிகேட்டு, கண்மழை கொட்டி, அடிசேர்ந்தொழுகினர்.
In my opinion, the author is asking us to rethink what perception is for. It’s not just about accuracy or survival. It’s also about richness, connection, and possibility. The mind is not a fixed system, but a living, evolving structure. And when you see that, a certain kindness blooms in your interactions with others who’re not the same as you.
PS: In Other Minds, Peter Godfrey-Smith describes early animals whose sensory systems were not yet unified. Vision, touch, and sound were processed in separate, somewhat independent regions of their primitive nervous systems. These creatures didn’t have a central “self” as we understand it today, just multiple, loosely coordinated processes. Perception, at that stage, was fragmented, before sensory pathways integrated and a coherent ‘mind’ emerged. But even now, traces of that older architecture remain. One of the most striking examples of this is synesthesia.
People with synesthesia experience a form of perception where the boundaries between senses are unusually fluid. They hear colors, taste shapes, or see musical notes,imbued with consistent hues. While this might seem unusual, it’s not an error, it’s a variation. And in some ways, it provides a glimpse into an alternative model of perception, one that blends rather than separates.
Transverse 