Visiting Pakistan Museum of Natural History in Islamabad

I did not think that a museum visit would be like travelling in time, but that was what happened when I entered the Pakistan Museum of Natural History in Islamabad.

The museum is hidden within the quiet and green folds of the Shakarparian National Park, which is a bit of an outlier in the bustling city. As soon as I came, the commotion diminished. The building was surrounded by trees; a feeling enveloped the building that this was a place to reflect and not to educate.

The moment I was walking towards the entrance, I was unable to overlook the first element that caught my eye, namely the enormous skeleton of a blue whale. It is there as a silent watchdog, and it demeans you before you even purchase a ticket. The sight of the biggest animal that has ever existed to mankind brought all human affairs down to very little, very, very little.

At the same time, I chose to stay inside and wander slowly, following curiosity rather than a map.

I have started with the Bio Gallery, and then it was like exploring the ecosystems of Pakistan within the room. Animals and birds were frozen carefully in poses of their life. The gallery narrated a silent but compelling story of biodiversity between the alpine animals of the northern mountains and those along its coasts. The most striking thing was the extent of this natural wealth, which we hardly ever consider that it is all about us, but it never comes into notice in day-to-day life.

Thence I passed into the Tethys Gallery, and the feeling changed. In this part, geological and ocean history is plunged to the bottom. The seascapes made in 3D made it easy to envision a period when this land was submerged. The red whale skeleton comes back here in a more complete context, and it was a surreal experience to stand under the blue whale skeleton. You do not merely look at history here; you are in it.

In the Palaeo Gallery, time really disintegrated. There were fossils over hundreds of millions of years that lined the space, and reminded me quietly that the history of mankind is but a small part of history. Full-size replicas of an elephant and a giraffe were standing high, and the prehistoric life and the early evolution of human beings were depicted in illustrations and displays on the wall. The contrivance of an Australopithecus skull replica gave the sense of a make-it-or-buy-it distance between then and now that was out of place.

Then I was attracted to the Gemstones Gallery - a room that shines without making a real effort. Garnet, emerald, ruby, and aquamarine, were all found in Pakistan and were on sale, in both raw and polished varieties. It was a call to the fact that there is a beauty under our mountains and our soil, which we hardly ever realize. These were no ordinary stones, they were evidence of the geological formation.

The Ecological Gallery was different, more urgent. It described the ecosystems, ecological cycles, and the delicate balance that we usually upsets through visuals and audio exhibitions. This was no longer history; it was a lesson. Climate change, environmental degradation, and human influence were not abstract concepts in this case. They were personal.

The Virtual Orientation Gallery was one of the most interesting places of interest. It is also specifically designed to cater to the younger visitors, and employs both Urdu and English interactive screens and virtual tours. I have seen children who were enthusiastic to work through online exhibitions, and it was something to be hopeful about. Perhaps this is the way storytelling manages to survive, to change.

I did not want to miss seeing some of the salient exhibits before departing. It was unbelievable how the whale shark exhibited itself. The specimen is almost 40 feet in length and was found in 2012 in and around Karachi and subsequently mounted under the support of UNESCO. As I stood next to it, I got that same feeling of silence I had with the blue whale. Nature does not have to embellish to impress.

The gharial crocodile show was depressing. The exhibit is critically threatened and native to the Indus River, which explains its fight to survive. It was not only educational, but also a wake-up call that conservation was no longer a choice.

When I stepped out again in the dark, the light had softened. Families sat on benches, students were excitedly talking, and the city was very distant. The museum is not a house with exhibitions in it; it is a stopwatch. A spot where you are required to look back, inward, and forward at the same time.

I walked away cogitating on the subject of scale--of the littleness we are in history, and omnipotence we have to offer in the future. Some trips give you photos. Others give you perspective. This one gave me both.