Pudgala, in the Dravyasamgraha, comes across as the heartbeat of the physical universe—eternal, ever-active, yet endlessly subtle. Think of it as an unbroken chain of minuscule building blocks called paramāṇus (atoms). These aren’t the same as modern atoms in a chemistry textbook, but Jainism’s own take on the ultimate indivisible bits of “stuff.” Each paramāṇu carries four essential qualities—color, taste, smell and touch—plus a fifth property, the capacity to interact and bond.

When paramāṇus clump together, they form skandhas (aggregates): anything from a grain of sand to the Eiffel Tower. These aggregates constantly shift and reshape, never standing still for a single heartbeat. In today’s world, it almost mirrors how particle physicists explore quarks and electrons—tiny entities that flicker into existence and recombine in a dance as old as time.

What makes pudgala stand out is its infinite reach in space but finite presence in any given location. Imagine a smartphone’s sleek shell: it’s a temporary gathering of countless atoms. Yet, zoom in or out, and those same basic units underpin everything tangible, from the soil beneath sneakers to the satellites orbiting Earth.

Modes (pudgala-bhāvas) show matter’s chameleon-like ability to morph—combining, separating, growing, decaying. It’s a reminder that nothing “solid” is truly permanent. Just as headlines this week might trumpet breakthroughs in materials science—like biodegradable plastics or graphene wonders—Jain texts insisted long ago that material reality is ceaselessly evolving.

At the end of the day, pudgala isn’t some dusty philosophy relic. It offers a timeless lens on how the seen world is woven together, atom by atom, moment by moment.