From Big Bang to Baghdad: A Brief Story of the Origin and Evolution of Religion by Qazi Ashraf

Qazi Ashraf’s “From Big Bang to Baghdad: A Brief Story of the Origin and Evolution of Religion” is a sweeping work that dares to explore one of the most complex and contested territories in human history. The title itself suggests its expansive ambition, moving from the earliest scientific understanding of the cosmos to the historical unfolding of religious thought in some of the earliest centres of civilisation, with Baghdad representing both the grandeur and the turmoil of faith’s evolution. To write a book that seeks to bridge cosmology, anthropology, history, and theology is a task fraught with risks. Yet, Ashraf succeeds in crafting a narrative that is at once wide-ranging and accessible. He avoids the pitfalls of dogmatism, treating religion not as an abstract, eternal truth but as a human invention shaped by circumstance, power, fear, imagination, and hope. The result is a deeply engaging account that forces the reader to examine faith in its multifaceted dimensions: as comfort, as control, as creativity, and as conflict.

One of the most impressive features of the book is its narrative arc. Instead of beginning with scriptures or prophets, Ashraf starts with the Big Bang, an unusual but fitting choice. He situates religion not as a sudden revelation but as part of the continuum of human attempts to make sense of existence. By starting with the origins of the universe, he establishes awe as the emotional foundation from which religious imagination flows. Early humans, confronted with their fragility in an immense and unpredictable cosmos, turned to stories to impose order on chaos. Fire, storms, eclipses, and floods became charged with divine significance. Fear and awe translated into ritual, and ritual crystallised into belief. In this way, religion emerges not as a revelation from above but as an extension of human psychology and creativity. The author’s insistence on rooting religion in human experience rather than divine fiat gives the work both clarity and accessibility.

The chapters on Mesopotamia are particularly striking, and it is here that Ashraf’s historical insight shines most clearly. He demonstrates how early priesthoods emerged not only as spiritual guides but also as political authorities who consolidated power by mediating between the gods and the people. Ziggurats were not just temples but centres of governance, and myths of divine wrath or blessing were tools to enforce social discipline. What struck me as a reader was how eerily familiar these dynamics still feel today. The blending of religion with political authority is not confined to ancient times but remains a constant in human history. The stories of gods reflected the social anxieties of their people, whether in explaining the floods of the Tigris and Euphrates or in legitimising the rule of kings. Ashraf makes it clear that religion, from its earliest stages, was inseparable from power.

In his treatment of India, Ashraf approaches the complexities of Vedic religion and its transformation into philosophical traditions with admirable balance. He is unsparing in showing how violence and ritual sacrifice were justified as divine mandates. Cattle raids became a sacred duty, and the yajna became a mechanism to sanctify hierarchy and control. Yet he also shows the other side, the counter-movements of intellectual and spiritual resistance, embodied in Samkhya, Jainism, and Buddhism. For me, the description of the Buddha’s rejection of divine dependence and his emphasis on mindfulness stood out as an act of rebellion against centuries of ritualistic excess. Ashraf’s account of how these philosophies shifted the centre of religion from ritual to ethics and introspection demonstrates how dynamic the religious landscape of India truly was. He does not romanticise, but he gives due recognition to the intellectual vigour of traditions that resisted violence and questioned hierarchy.

The exploration of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam is equally engaging. Ashraf highlights how tribal deities gradually evolved into universal gods. Yahweh, initially a figure tied to a particular people and land, transformed into a god of justice and covenant, reflecting the collective struggles of the Jewish people through exile and survival. Christianity receives one of the most thought-provoking treatments in the book. Ashraf distinguishes between the historical Jesus and the Christ of faith, showing how the simple message of a Galilean preacher was reshaped into a doctrine of empire under Constantine. The conversion of Rome, as he argues, was less about sudden collective faith and more about political expediency. Religion here became the unifying ideology of empire, with councils and creeds serving the needs of power as much as they served theology. As a reader, I found these arguments both unsettling and convincing, for they reveal the deep entanglement of spiritual ideals with worldly ambition.

Islam is treated with a balance that is rare in works of this nature. Ashraf gives a contextual account of the Quran, situating it within seventh-century Arabia, where tribal conflict, trade, and cultural exchange shaped its message. He does not shy away from sensitive topics such as slavery, gender roles, and war, but he situates them within the historical circumstances in which the revelations were given. For me, one of the most illuminating aspects was his discussion of the political struggle following the Prophet’s death, when the question of succession split the community. The emergence of sectarian divisions is treated not as theological accidents but as inevitable outcomes of human interpretation and ambition. His treatment of Karbala and Imam Hussein’s martyrdom is profoundly moving, presenting it not only as a tragedy of history but also as a symbol of resistance against the manipulation of faith for political authority.

Throughout the book, Ashraf returns to one central theme: religion is not static but evolutionary. It adapts, shifts, and reshapes itself in response to the changing needs of society. This is evident in his treatment of Buddhism as it spread from India to China, Japan, and beyond. What began as a philosophy of impermanence and mindfulness gradually absorbed local gods, rituals, and hierarchies. The religion of no-self transformed into elaborate systems with pantheons and ceremonies. Rather than lamenting this as corruption, Ashraf presents it as the natural evolution of belief systems encountering new cultural contexts. This perspective is one of the book’s greatest strengths. It prevents readers from seeing religion as rigid or unchanging, instead inviting us to appreciate its fluidity and resilience.

The author’s prose is lucid, often reflective, and occasionally poetic. He does not overwhelm the reader with jargon, yet he never simplifies to the point of distortion. His ability to weave together diverse disciplines, including cosmology, anthropology, theology, and history, is impressive. What makes the book particularly engaging is that it does not simply present facts but consistently invites reflection. I found myself pausing often, thinking about my own practices and traditions, and reconsidering their place in this long arc of human history. For example, when Ashraf describes how rituals of sacrifice evolved into symbolic acts, I thought of how many of our present-day festivals continue in altered but recognisable forms. Religion, as he presents it, is not something distant or abstract, but something still alive in everyday life.

The book is also notable for its fairness. Ashraf does not ridicule belief, nor does he glorify it. He writes with respect for the sincerity of religious expression, while maintaining a critical eye for how religion has been used to justify violence, hierarchy, and control. The balance is difficult to achieve, yet he manages it consistently. The reader is neither preached to nor persuaded to abandon faith, but encouraged to see it in its human dimensions. This fairness is part of why the book feels accessible to both believers and sceptics alike.

As a critical reader, I also appreciated Ashraf’s attention to the role of language and storytelling. He argues convincingly that the invention of language was the real turning point in human religious development. Stories created shared worlds, and shared worlds created communities. Gossip, myth, epic, and scripture are all extensions of the same human capacity to imagine and narrate. When he describes how communities rallied around shared stories of divine favour or punishment, I was reminded of how even in modern times, narratives, whether religious or political, remain central to collective identity. This is a profound insight that stays with the reader long after the book is finished.

Perhaps the most potent quality of From Big Bang to Baghdad is that it is not simply about religion, but about humanity itself. In tracing the evolution of faith, Ashraf reveals the creativity, fears, resilience, and contradictions of human beings across time. He shows us at our most imaginative and at our most destructive. Religion becomes the mirror in which humanity sees itself, sometimes distorted, sometimes illuminated. For me, reading this book was not just an intellectual exercise, but an invitation to reflect on what it means to be human in a world that remains full of mystery.

By the time I finished the book, I felt that I had travelled through millennia, not only learning about gods, prophets, and rituals, but also about the enduring questions of life, death, and meaning. Ashraf does not provide final answers, nor does he pretend to have any. Instead, he leaves the reader with a sense of history’s depth and humanity’s unending search for significance. In doing so, he accomplishes something rare: he makes the story of religion a story of all of us, regardless of where we stand in matters of belief.

This is not an easy book to categorise. It is part history, part philosophy, part anthropology, and part reflection. It resists the temptation to fit into a single category, and that is precisely why it succeeds. For those who want to understand religion not only as doctrine but as a human story, this book is essential. It possesses the rare ability to educate, provoke, and inspire simultaneously.

At over three hundred pages, the book never feels tedious because each chapter brings fresh insight and narrative energy. Whether one is reading about Mesopotamian kings, Vedic sacrifices, the Sermon on the Mount, or the Quranic revelations, there is always the sense of being guided by a mind deeply engaged with its material. The breadth of the book is impressive, but what makes it memorable is the humanity with which it treats its subject.

Qazi Ashraf’s From Big Bang to Baghdad is not just a history of religion. It is a history of humanity’s imagination, fears, and hopes. It serves as a reminder that religion is not only about gods, but also about people. It is about the stories we tell to endure suffering, the structures we create to impose order, and the philosophies we develop to seek freedom. It is about our capacity to transform, adapt, and question. For readers willing to engage deeply, this book is not only informative but transformative. It changes the way one looks at faith, history, and even oneself. At a time when discussions of religion are often polarised, Ashraf’s calm, thoughtful, and probing narrative feels urgently necessary. It deserves to be read widely, for it offers both knowledge and wisdom in equal measure.

Click here to get a copy of this book from Amazon India.

Review by Raman for Indian Book Critics

.. .. ..