Way before there were clocks, before calendars hung on walls, and long before the delicate weight of a luxury watch wrapped around a wrist, time was a rumor the sky whispered. People read it in the stretch of a shadow, in the flight of birds overhead, or in the quiet memory of when they last ate.
Life moved to the pull of light and dark, heat and cool, hunger and harvest.
It was freedom, without minutes to chase. However, as villages expanded into cities and ships began crossing seas, that sense of primal liberation changed. Inquisitiveness set in. Humans wanted to seize the passing hours and hold them close. So, we found ways to carve time into something we could see, hear, and treasure.
For instance, in Egypt and Mesopotamia, the sun’s climb was read in the slow sweep of shadows over etched stone. In Greece, China, and Egypt, the passing hours were counted by water slipping, drop by drop, between vessels.
In India, that relationship with time was always deeply woven into daily life. It could be felt in the shade that crept across a temple courtyard, in the call of boatmen along the ghats, in the way a farmer looked at the sky and knew when to turn the soil.
In ancient times, the division of the day into eight prahars determined how people worked, celebrated, and rested, turning time into a rhythm rather than a number.
Even today, the day continues to unfold in prahars, with their unique mood, pace, and light. The sun’s path sets the rhythm, and the hours fall in step. Ultimately, the prahar system is a sensory map. And the harmony between time and life is symbolized by the division of the day into eight prahars.
The day begins with a calm stillness, touched by cool air and the soft gold light of the rising sun. Energy unfurls gradually, giving room for unmistakable thought and unhurried beginnings. It is a moment to prepare the mind and body before the day gathers speed.
The sun climbs to its most commanding position, filling the hours with bright clarity and strength. It's ideal for confident decisions, purposeful action, and controlled progress. Work advances with a sense of focus that matches the sharpness of the light.
As the midday heat eases, the day starts to feel less urgent. Work goes on, but at a pace that leaves room to think and do things with care. It is a time to get through what’s needed while keeping some energy in reserve for later.
The light turns warm and heavy, casting long shadows across streets and fields. Conversations are slow, and the atmosphere feels reflective as the day edges toward closure. It is when one collects thoughts, settles unfinished matters, and lets the pace soften.
Evening settles in with the soft glow of lamps and the cool touch of night air. People gather over meals, share conversations, and find solace in familiar rituals. These moments herald a sense of connection as the day draws to a close.
The night deepens, and the sounds of the world fade into near silence. It is a time for solitude, meditation, or quiet companionship. The darkness holds tranquility that permits the mind to wander inward.
The world lies in complete serenity, broken only by the faintest sounds in the dark. These are the private hours of the soul, free from hurry or interruption. Time seems to pause, leaving space for deep rest and quiet thought.
A silver horizon begins to emerge, carrying the first breath of a new day. Cool air stirs as light spreads slowly, awakening both land and spirit. It is a time of renewal, filled with the quiet anticipation of what is to come.
For centuries, the prahars dictated how people understood the passage of hours, seeing them as living segments characterized by light, mood, and activity. Over generations, that same pursuit of marking and celebrating each moment grew into the craft of watchmaking.
The path from sundials and prahars to the precise movements inside today’s watches tells a story of a shared human wish: to hold time close without stripping away its beauty.
What began as shadows stretching across stone or light marking the change of a prahar has become a dance of gears, springs, and balance wheels. Centuries of skill, patience, and imagination are wound into every turn of the crown, reminding us that even in its most advanced form, timekeeping is as much art as it is science.
So, when a luxury watch tracks the hours between Purvāhna and Pradosha, it is participating in a tradition that began when our ancestors first noticed the sun leaning toward the horizon.
That continuity, from the open sky to the mechanical dial, is what gives the measurement of time.
The instruments have changed. The materials have evolved. Yet the way humans live in relation to time remains a bridge between ancient instinct and modern craft. After all, timekeeping began as a shared cultural language, and the prahars remind us that every second belongs to a larger rhythm.
At Circa, we understand that this system is a living reminder to take a step back and let it all sink in. In the modern world, where schedules tend to blur, this way of seeing time restores a sense of rhythm, balance, and meaning.
Our chosen watch pieces follow the same way of seeing things, keeping you company in the hush before sunrise or in the gentle hues that arrive before night. And we help you choose the one that fits how you move through the day, so each hour keeps its weight and meaning.
