I Just Time-Traveled to the Year 1201 (And Why Your Calendar is Just an App)
By Shashi Bellamkonda
I am currently writing this from Kumarakom, Kerala, where I glanced at a blackboard in the lobby and realized I had lost 824 years.
According to my phone, it is December 2025. But according to the board in front of me, the year is 1201, the month is Dhanu, and the day is Njayar (Sunday).
It was a jarring reminder. We tend to think of the date as a hard fact—like gravity or the speed of light. If I ask you what year it is, you don't hesitate. "It's 2025," you say.
But that number isn't a fact. It’s a convention. It’s an agreement.
The Misunderstanding: Time vs. Timing
We often conflate time (the passage of moments) with timing (the grid we place over it). We assume the whole world marches to the same drumbeat.
The truth is, for most of human history, "What is the date?" was a local question. It depended on your king, your harvest, or your moon.
The Kollavarsham calendar I saw here in Kerala began in 825 AD. It’s solar-based, tied deeply to the agricultural rhythms of this specific land. The month of Dhanu isn't just "December"—it's the season of the Thiruvathira festival and specific temple rituals. It tells a farmer what to do in a way "December 28" never could.
Why We All Agreed on "2025"
So, why did the world standardize on the Gregorian calendar? Why did we abandon our local clocks?
It wasn't because the Gregorian calendar is scientifically perfect. In fact, it’s a patchwork fix. Pope Gregory XIII introduced it in 1582 because the previous system (Julian) was leaking minutes. Easter was drifting into the wrong season, and the church needed to patch the bug.
The world adopted it not for spiritual reasons, but for commercial synchronization. If you want to sell spices to London, buy silk from China, or schedule a Zoom call with New York, you need a shared protocol. The Gregorian calendar became the TCP/IP of time.
The Asian Split: Japan vs. China
Interestingly, not everyone updated their operating system the same way. Japanese and Chinese approaches, and the difference is fascinating.
Both cultures traditionally used lunisolar calendars. But when modernization knocked on the door in the 19th century, they answered differently:
- Japan (The Hard Reset): During the Meiji Restoration in 1873, Japan wanted to align with the West for trade and industrialization. They didn't just adopt the Gregorian year; they adopted the dates entirely. This is why many traditional Japanese festivals (like Tanabata) are celebrated on the Gregorian July 7th, even if the "lunar" logic doesn't quite fit anymore. They ported their culture to the new OS.
- China (The Dual Boot): China took a pragmatic approach. They adopted the Gregorian calendar for business and government (the "Civil" calendar), but kept the Lunar calendar for life. Chinese New Year (Spring Festival) still wanders around January and February because it refuses to untether itself from the moon. They run two operating systems simultaneously: one for the office, one for the soul.
The Takeaway
Standing here in Kumarakom, looking at "Year 1201," I realized something comforting. You don't have to live your entire life on the business calendar.
Sure, use 2025 for your meetings, your flight bookings, and your tax returns. That’s the utility layer.
But for your personal growth, your family traditions, and your mental peace? Feel free to use a different clock. One that measures seasons, not quarters. One that respects the rhythm of a Sunday (Njayar) without worrying about the Monday morning emails.
It’s 2025 everywhere else. But here, for a moment, it’s 1201. And I have plenty of time.
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