In the Dravyasamgraha, akasha emerges as the silent partner of the universe: an all-encompassing substance that neither thinks nor feels, yet provides the very backdrop against which every cosmic drama unfolds. Twofold in nature, it divides into loka (the inhabited cosmos) and aloka (the infinite void beyond). Within loka, akasha carves out room for souls, matter, motion, time and space itself, ensuring nothing ever bumps into anything else without a smooth runway. Beyond that, aloka stands as an uninhabited gulf, a reminder that boundlessness can coexist with natural order.

Far from playing a starring role, akasha adopts a backstage position—utterly passive, devoid of action or passion. No wave of desire ripples through it; no sentience stirs its depths. Instead, it acts as the ultimate container, the reservoir of positions in which every other substance can move and rest. Just as modern astrophysics describes vacuum energy filling outer space—now being mapped by the James Webb Space Telescope’s breathtaking deep-field imagery—Jain thought foresaw a framework where emptiness itself possesses substance.

Despite its intangibility, akasha earns a firm place among the six dravyas. Its infinitude guarantees that neither the soul nor matter ever runs out of elbow room. By making possible the measure of direction—up, down, north, south, east and west—it underpins the very concept of location. Time and movement would be meaningless if there were no expanse in which to tick or travel. Akasha, then, is the stagehand who silently shifts the set pieces of reality.

In a world chasing the next big discovery—be it a new exoplanet or the uncharted realms of quantum vacuum—ancient Jain wisdom offers this nugget: the emptiest-looking entity can be the greatest enabler. Space isn’t just “nothing.” It’s the unsung hero that makes everything possible, from a roaming soul to the latest spacecraft piercing the heavens.