The Enigmatic Egg

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Dr. A. A. Quraishy

An egg is an object of reverence, of utmost delicacy, of immense versatility, as it guards the secret code of life.

In a language that no man, howsoever learned, has been able to read fully so far. It has a profound mystery of indescribable complexity which contributes to the making of an Einstein, a Helen, a Shakespeare, or a colorful peacock.

There are not enough words to describe the awe, the aura of life a scientist witnesses in an egg. The mammalian egg, for example, carries more than 3,000 recognizable pearly blobs — a sort of silicon chip with thousands of mini-circuits printed in their bosoms — which have the blueprints of the specifications of the nose, the lips, the brain, the heart, the color of eyes, the dimple, the hand, and all other details which shall make a prancing princess, a ferocious lion, a whacking whale, a gorgeous gazelle.

Therein also lie the instructions that the tiny finger of the hand of the baby shall not grow on his feet; that when the foundation for the five has been laid down, the sixth shall not be made, as it would be ugly and negate the approved pattern.

But this is not all to an egg. Alone, it is only the half, produced by the better half, but under no circumstances the lesser half, except in one field — in determining the sex of the baby. That code is always carried by the male, all males.

That is why the little maiden is innocent and shall remain so till eternity.

Here I want to share with my readers interesting information on which I stumbled by chance while going through an old book written by an anonymous Englishman.

It is related to a skillful dancer who spins, twists, and goes into unbelievable rhythmic movements on the beat of the drum and music with eggs, for which she takes great pains not to break them.

He relates:

“The dancing girl, dressed in the ordinary costume of the female of the people — bodice and a very short sari — carries on her head a wicker wheel of tolerably large diameter, placed in a perfectly horizontal manner on the top of the crown; and around this wheel threads are attached at equal distances, provided at their extremities with a slip-knot, which is kept open by means of glass beads. The dancing girl advances towards the spectators, holding a basket full of eggs which she hands to us so that we may verify that they are real eggs and not imitations.

“The music starts in a monotonous and jerking manner and the dancing starts, turning herself with great rapidity. Then, seizing an egg, she inserts it in the slipknot and with a sharp movement jerks it to tighten the knot. By means of the centrifugal force produced by the dancer’s circular movement, the thread holding the egg is stretched out so that the egg is placed in a straight line with the prolongation of the corresponding spoke of the wheel.

“As the act goes on, all eggs are thrown into the slip-knots and soon form a horizontal aureole round the head of the dancing girl. At this point the dance becomes more and more rapid and the features of the dancer can with difficulty be distinguished. It is a critical moment; the least false step, the slightest stoppage, and the eggs would be smashed one against the other.

“But now, how is the dance to be interrupted? There is only one way, and that is by withdrawing the eggs in the same way they have been fixed there, and in spite of all appearance to the contrary, this last operation is more delicate of the two. The dancer, with one precise, single, clear movement, seizes the egg and draws it towards her. It is evident that if the hand were to carelessly place itself within the circle, it would suffice for it to touch one of the threads only for the general harmony to be suddenly broken; and, seeming in the last degree dizzy from the constant whirling, she advances with one firm step towards us and presents us with an egg contained in the basket, which is broken on a plate, by way of proving the complete absence of all trickery.”

Coming back to the egg, it is interesting that an egg of a bird breathes through roughly 7,500 pores, most of them at the broad end. Every egg has an infinitesimally thin but discernible covering which not only gives a fresh glow — both as evidence of the finishing touches and the care taken by Nature to produce a flawless piece of nascent life wrapped in a carefully strong, light, alluring cover — but also serves as a defensive mechanism against the entry of dangerous bacteria. It is not completely impervious, though; the life-giving air can enter the inside for the tender chick.

A human egg is a colorless speck of apparently watery substance, round, smaller than the full stop at the end of this sentence. One can barely see it with bare eyes, and if it were a bit more transparent, it would be invisible.

It is a single cell, but a complicated one. If you enlarge it to 500 times in your mind’s eye until it is as large as the size of a ping-pong ball, only then can you visualize its structure. Magnified, it would contain a central portion about the size of something slightly bigger than a shirt’s button, thicker and darker in the center than the surrounding watery jelly.

The button-like structure is the mysterious core in which are twenty-four worm-shaped structures, horizontally striped with bands of light and dark. The bands carry the ‘pearls’, each having the aforesaid chip bearing in them the countless details, the mini-circuits, the ultimate in microfilming of the script of the baby yet unborn — any baby from whale to that of an ant.

These worm-like things in the egg are specified for the particular species. Both sides must tally, the ones from the male and the female; only then shall the clock click. That is why a mare cannot get a calf; a snake can produce only a snake, not a toad. One can therefore deduce from this information that man was not developed out of a tailless monkey.

That is why herds of similar-looking animals intermingle at the pasture, but there is no trespass in matrimony. Intermarriage is banned in animals.

When man interferes in racial bungling, he gets a mule, which is infertile. That is why a mule cannot produce a mule.

Man is one group, the same tree, the same flower, the same fruit that can differ in color and taste — but no more. He can intermarry and can have babies.