Narrative : The Rhythm of Stillness

 

                The Rhythm of Stillness

(My thanks are  due to my friend  Dr. Soma Sammadar , Professor  of Chemistry, Lady Brabourne College,  Kolkata for providing valuable insights while writing this article. Soma herself a cancer survivor is relentlessly working for stray dogs through her NGO Doddaden foundation. She vaccinates, sterilizes and feeds about 100  stray dogs , furry babies as she calls them  ,  in North Kolkata.)

The Rigveda often speaks of the universe as a wheel whose rim, spokes, and hub represent the rhythms of existence. One famous hymn (Rigveda 1.164) describes:"The wheel with twelve spokes revolves without aging."The twelve spokes symbolize the months of the year, while the unmoving hub suggests the eternal centre around which change revolves. This is a beautiful image of attachment and detachment:

The rim is constantly moving.

The hub remains still.

A person may live on the rim, busy with life's duties, while remaining inwardly cantered like the hub. Wisdom is not escaping the wheel but learning to live from its hub. The Rigveda reminds us that life is like a great wheel. Its rim turns ceaselessly through time and change, while its hub remains perfectly still. Human wisdom lies in learning to participate fully in the movement of life without losing the stillness of its eternal center.

Modern physics, though speaking a different language, hints at a remarkably similar paradox. Light is neither merely a wave nor merely a particle; it possesses both aspects, revealing one or the other according to circumstance. Likewise, we are called to embrace the flowing, relational nature of existence—loving, serving, creating, and participating in the world—while simultaneously remaining centered in the unchanging awareness of the self. The moving rim and the silent hub are complementary dimensions of the same reality.

Nature, too, quietly teaches this truth. Consider the humpback whale. The  whales  spends nearly its entire life immersed in the ocean, yet it cannot live without periodically rising to the surface for breath. It dives into the depths, returns to breathe, and descends again in an endless rhythm. Human life follows a similar pattern. We immerse ourselves in responsibilities, relationships, and emotions, but if we never return to the inner surface of stillness, we begin to feel as though we are drowning. A quiet breath, a moment of silence, or a pause for reflection restores the center from which we can re-enter life's depths. The Humpback whale does something even more beautiful. They  carry that breath back into the ocean and turn it into movement and song. Their songs are learned, shared, and constantly evolving, sometimes traveling across thousands of kilometers in what scientists call a whale-song revolution. Our lives, too, are a song to be sung…

 -Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

Narrative :Nymerah

 Nymerah

Nymerah is a fictional muse who embodies the coexistence of light and darkness, serenity and celebration, day and night. She symbolizes the meeting point of seemingly opposite worlds, serving as the quiet axis around which life's larger narrative unfolds. Nymerah is the spirit of twilight—that fleeting, luminous hour when day gently surrenders to night and the resonant sound of the conch shell fills the evening air. Twilight is neither an ending nor a beginning; it is a moment of quiet transition, where two worlds briefly embrace each other in harmony.The twilight of nature mirrors the twilight of human life, especially after the age of sixty, when one steps away from the routines of professional life. For those accustomed to the rhythm of nine-to-five responsibilities, retirement often leaves an unexpected emptiness. Yet that emptiness is not a void to be feared; it is a sacred space waiting to be filled with a quieter, more loving purpose.These years invite us to pause and look back with gratitude—reflecting on the lessons learned, the joys cherished, the mistakes accepted, and the people who shaped our journey. They also offer an opportunity to give something back: to society, to nature, and to those who walk behind us. In doing so, we gradually prepare ourselves for the soul's final journey into eternity. 

Nymerah reminds us that old age is not a season of decline but of awakening. It is the time when the noise of the world slowly fades, allowing us to hear the whispers of the heart that have always existed beneath the distractions of everyday life. In these later years, the time that remains often feels more precious than all that has gone before. The bucket list grows shorter, not because dreams diminish, but because priorities become clearer. We realize that time is not infinite and that every remaining day deserves to be lived with purpose, intention,grace and forgiveness. It is no longer necessary to devote our energy to everything. Wisdom lies in choosing what truly matters, forgiving  , and discovering fulfillment in a life that is simpler, quieter, and more deeply meaningful.

Perhaps that is what Nymerah ultimately teaches us: twilight is not the fading of light but the gentle union of light and darkness. In the same way, old age is not the closing chapter of life but the season in which experience ripens into wisdom, action softens into compassion, and the soul quietly prepares to return to the Infinite.

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

   

Poetry : Saudade

 

Saudade

                    Those were the sentences,

Curated from fragments of life,

Beautifully crafted each day with care,

Tracing the contours of her world—

Its joys, its fears, its lingering regrets.

 

Those were the sentences.

They became her windows to the outside world

When she was confined to her home,

Accompanied by aching joints of age

And her beloved garden.

 

Those were the sentences.

They began as imperfect sentences,

Yet slowly they created a vast landscape,

Populated with childhood memories, familiar places,

And lives that gradually took shape.

 

Those were the sentences.

Within them one could hear a congregation of voices,

Weaving relationships and memories

She would rather leave undisturbed.

She guarded those memories carefully,

Rarely letting her defences fall,

Yet allowing the reader to glimpse

The very heart of her world

Through five broken sentences at a time.

 

Those were the sentences.

As they travelled from pen to paper

They gathered silences,

And sometimes misunderstandings

Which The writer never intended.

 

Those were the sentences.

They were never merely a means of communication;

They became a record of silence,

Of hesitation, and of desire.

Their fragmented style

Created an unexpected intimacy

With the reader,

Who quietly accepted the task

Of piecing the puzzle together.

 

Those were the sentences.

They never found the hands

For which they were written.

A month has passed.

They remain unsent—

Suspended between silence and speech.

And in that unfinished journey,

Saudade still breathes.

 - Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

21.07.2026

A Narrative : The Buddha's Departure

 

The Buddha's Departure

 

( When Siddhārtha left the palace in search of truth, he departed without bidding farewell to his wife, Yaśodharā. History tells us little of what she may have felt on that night. The reflections that follow are entirely imagined, inspired by the silence that history leaves between its recorded events. This narrative is an imaginative attempt to give voice to that silence in our own time .)

 Everything was quiet.

The setting sun entered through the window in a gentle stream of amber light, resting softly upon the stone floor. She sat in her usual place by the window, watching the evening unfold. Outside, the playgrounds and the entire city had begun to surrender themselves to dusk. The treetops and faraway temple tops glowed briefly in gold before slowly fading into shadow. Along the pathways, people walked silently, their long shadows stretching behind them. From the playground below came the faint, fading laughter of children. Somewhere in the distance, the low sound of a conch shell lingered for a moment before dissolving into the twilight.

She had always loved this hour for reading and writing.

The sunset filled her with an inexplicable blend of peace and loneliness. There was comfort in knowing that the same sun was descending everywhere—over villages and cities, mountains and seas; over strangers who would never know one another, yet who all shared this single departing light. The last rays, trembling upon the leaves of the swaying coconut  trees, possessed a beauty beyond words. She often wondered why beauty seemed most moving when it was about to disappear. Perhaps that was why she loved sunsets more than sunrises.

And with every sunset, her thoughts returned to Siddhārtha—the man who  one day become the Buddha.

She remembered his quietness, his gentleness, the depth of his silence. She had believed that such stillness could never be disturbed, that a man so inwardly calm could never be restless.

But one night, everything changed.

The silence she had trusted gave way to an unrest she could neither understand nor name. He seemed already to belong to another path, another calling. Without anger, without accusation, without even a farewell, he chose to leave—not merely the palace, but the life they had shared.

He departed in the dead of night.

Why?

She had never found an answer. Was he seeking freedom? If so, freedom from what—or from whom?

Every evening thereafter, she returned to the same window. She watched the sun sink slowly beyond the horizon, waiting… 

  - Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

The Sunset That Never Faded

 

The Sunset That Never Faded

 It happened nearly forty-five years ago, when I was a student in Class VI. Most memories of those school days have faded with time, but this one remains etched in my mind as vividly as ever.In those days, school picnics were among the happiest occasions of school life. Life was simpler. There were no mobile phones, no internet, and very little entertainment beyond games, books, and the occasional family outing. A school picnic was an event we looked forward to for weeks.One pleasant December morning, our school in Chembur, Mumbai, organised a picnic to Juhu Beach for all four sections of Class VI. We boarded the buses with lunch boxes, water bottles, and boundless excitement.Among us was my classmate Harini, who had brought along her little sister, a child of about seven. The teachers hesitated at first but finally agreed after Harini promised to take good care of her. Before we left, they reminded her more than once, "Don't let go of her hand."The beach welcomed us with cool sea breezes, golden sand, and the soothing sound of the waves. We spent the day playing games, building sandcastles, singing antakshari, and laughing without a care. The little girl happily wandered among us, always holding her sister's hand.Towards evening, the sky turned into a magnificent canvas of crimson and gold as the sun began to sink into the Arabian Sea. We stood mesmerised by the breathtaking sunset.

 Then, in a single instant, everything changed.

 The little girl suddenly slipped free from Harini's grasp. Pointing towards the glowing sun, she exclaimed, "I want the ball!" Before anyone could stop her, she ran towards the sea.Within seconds, the waves engulfed her.A cry of horror shattered the evening calm. Teachers, students, strangers, and lifeguards rushed into action. Those few minutes felt endless.When the lifeguards returned, they carried the child in their arms.The sea had claimed her.

 The laughter that had filled the beach only moments earlier gave way to stunned silence. Harini stood frozen with grief, and none of us could comprehend what had happened. As the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, preparing to begin another dawn somewhere else in the world, it seemed to carry that little soul with it. Darkness settled over the sea, but that evening has remained forever etched  in my memory .Even today, after four and a half decades, I cannot watch a sunset over the sea without remembering that little girl reaching out for the glowing ball on the horizon. What began as one of the happiest days of my childhood became one of its deepest sorrows, teaching me that joy and tragedy can be separated by no more than a single unguarded moment.

 Some sunsets fade with the coming of night.

 This one never did.

Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

 

Poetry : Dev Bhoomi — Himachal Pradesh

 

Dev Bhoomi — Himachal Pradesh

( This is an English translation of my poem, originally written in Hindi and  which has been posted in this blog  as 57th post.. While preserving the spirit and imagery of the original, the translation seeks to convey its reverence for the natural beauty and sacred essence of Himachal Pradesh. )

The morning sun,

Rises softly,

Behind the snowy peaks,

Slowly enfolding the sky

In its gentle embrace,

Spilling liquid gold,

Across the mighty mountains.

The glistening summits,

Proud and tall,

Rise heavenward,

As if reaching

To meet their Creator

In the sacred realm above.

The mountains drift,

Behind floating clouds,

Like little girl,

Playing hide-and-seek

In  her  mother's loving embrace.

When the sun sinks,

Into the dark of night,

The clear blue sky,

Glows crimson bright.

It is the hour of twilight,

When sun and moon,

Meet in a sacred embrace.

 The sound of conch shells,

Echoes across the peaks,

While silent pines,

And stately deodars

Whisper softly to the breeze..

Their quiet grace,

Spreads gently,

Across the sleeping valleys.

The icy winds begin to sing,

Carrying ancient songs,

On silent wings.

In lush forests,

And tranquil streams,

The Creator's presence,

Softly gleams.

The shimmering  lakes,

The emerald meadows,

The waterfalls,

With their silver sheen—

The earth rejoices,

Pure and radiant,

Dancing,

In nature's endless light.

A haven for poets,

Painters, and sages,

A land of timeless wisdom,

Through the ages.

Here life reveals,

Its hidden meaning,

In every dawn,

It is Dev Bhoomi—

The Land of the Gods,

A sacred realm,

Where heaven seems near.

And forever in my heart,

It shall remain—

My beloved land,

My birthland.

-Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

कविता : देव भूमि - हिमाचल प्रदेश

 

देव भूमि - हिमाचल प्रदेश

सुबह जब सूरज पंख फैलाए,

बर्फीले शिखर पर मोती चमकाएँ,

ऊँची ऊँची पर्वत श्रृंखलाएँ,

चली हैं नभ को छूने,

अपने सृष्टिकर्ता से मिलने।

निरन्तर परिवर्तनशील प्रकृति,

अठखेलियाँ करती है ऐसी लगती,

मानों माँ की गोद में बालिका,

आँख मिचौली है खेला करती।

सूर्य जब निद्रा की गोद में सिमटता,

आसमान में गहरा सिंदूरी रंग है बिखेरता,

शांत सौम्य चीड़ और देवदार,

करते इस प्रदेश का श्रृंगार।

साँय साँय करती बर्फीली हवाएँ,

उनमें उमड़ती निर्जन छटाएँ,

मानो सृष्टि का रचयिता भी,

आकर यहीं है बसता।

शांत झीलें लहराते खेत,

ऊंचे उंके चीड़ के पेड़,

कल कल करते झरनों की झंकार,

प्रफुल्ल वसुंधरा करती निनाद।

कवियों, चित्रकारों मुनियों का आकर्षण,

यहीं छिपा है जीवन दर्शन,

कहते हैं इसे देवभूमि,

यह है मेरी जन्मभूमि।

                             -पंकज माला भट्टाचार्य

Andaman Diaries – Concluded

 

Andaman Diaries – Concluded

A Journey Through Nature, History, and the Sea

(This is the  concluding section of the travelogue, reflecting on the underwater experience at Jolly Buoy Island and the  departure from the Andaman Islands after completing our scientific mission. My thanks are  due to  my  Ph.D Guide and Senior  colleague in GSI , Dr. J.R.Kayal professor emeritus, Kolkata, for   providing valuable insights  while writing this article .  This write up  is based on experiences of the GSI team at Andaman Islands.)

On 23 September, we left Port Blair for establishing the next seismograph at the  Havelock. The pleasant  weather, the  clear blue sky and the  shimmering sea in different shades of hue accompanied us to our destination. . As our vessel moved through the calm  and serene waters, we were fascinated by the sight of the green  emerald Islands rising from the  glistening  blue sea.

Havelock Island, with its lush forests, coconut groves, and scattered settlements, welcomed us into its warm embrace. After reaching the forest office, we met the Forest Ranger and explained the purpose of our visit. By noon, we began installing another seismograph at a selected location. Though the work continued for several hours, the peaceful surroundings made the experience enjoyable.

As evening approached, the setting sun turned the sea to melting gold. Children played along the shore, and fishermen prepared their boats. Sitting on the deck of our vessel, we watched the fading light over the sea   and after taking our observations returned to Port Blair with cherished  memories.

The following day, after inspecting the earthquake-monitoring instruments at Port Blair, a visit to  the Cellular Jail Museum was a reminder  of the sacrifices of the freedom fighters and the hardships they endured during India’s struggle for independence. The Anthropological Museum provided a glimpse into the lives, cultures, and traditions of the indigenous residents of this land.

In our busy schedule, we could manage to visit the  Ross Island, a small island that once served as the administrative Centre of British rule in the Andamans. The ruins of the Governor’s House, church, and other colonial buildings still stand among coconut and banyan trees..

Our visit to Sippighat Farm introduced us to the cultivation of spices such as cloves, nutmeg, pepper, and cinnamon. The officer there guided us around and even gifted us a few saplings, leaving us with pleasant memories of the place. The  air was filled with the abundance of spice aroma.

The most unforgettable experience was our visit to Jolly Buoy Island. A motorboat carried us across the calm blue sea, surrounded by green islands and mangroves. Through a glass-bottomed boat, we witnessed the hidden world beneath the water. The colorful corals, fish, sea lilies, sea cucumbers, anemones, rays, and many other marine creatures created a breath taking underwater landscape. It felt like discovering another world full of life, color, and wonder.

Our journey through the forests of Middle Andaman, our encounters with the Jarawa people, and our exploration of the magnificent marine world together became some of the most memorable experiences of our lives.

After completing our work of installing and monitoring earthquake-recording instruments, our week-long stay in the Andaman Islands came to an end. On 28 October, we boarded a flight from Port Blair to Kolkata. As the islands disappeared from our view, we returned to the familiar rhythm of city life. Yet the Andamans remained with us—in our hearts and memories—leaving behind a treasure of experiences that would stay with us forever.

Un voyage magnifique et merveilleux !

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

 

 

 

Poetry: Singularity of Being

 

              Singularity of Being

( Mathematical and physical singularities are used as metaphors for crises in human relationships and consciousness. A singularity marks the limit of a model. When the model fails, reality has not ended—only our ability to describe it has.. The main conclusion is  instead of a singularity being the collapse of a relationship, it becomes a point of transformation where scientific models fail but deeper emotional bonds survive)

In mathematics,

a singularity is a point

where an object ceases to be defined—

a place where the familiar rules fail,

where continuity breaks

and differentiability disappears.

In physics,

a singularity refers to a point

where certain physical quantities

become infinite—

as in the heart of a black hole,

where the known laws of nature

collapse into uncertainty.

In Einstein’s theory of general relativity,

singularities represent regions

where the curvature of space time

grows beyond imagination,

where our understanding reaches its limit.

Yet singularities are not confined

to numbers, equations, or distant stars.

They also exist within

the fragile fabric of human relationships.

A singularity in a relationship

is a warning sign—

a moment when our emotional model,

like a mathematical model,

reaches its breaking point.

The structures we built from love,

trust, memory, and meaning

begin to fracture under

the pressure of reality.

At such moments,

we need not merely repair the old framework;

we may need a new vision—

a deeper understanding of the human mind

and the mysteries of existence.

Just as the universe seeks

a greater theory—

through ideas like string theory

or loop quantum gravity—

to reveal the hidden order beneath chaos,

so too must the human spirit seek

a philosophy vast enough

to embrace uncertainty.

Just as the universe may conceal

a greater order beyond the singularity,

the human soul too may discover

that beneath every apparent separation

lies an unseen connection—

a continuum of existence,

where love transcends the boundaries

of space, time, and uncertainty.

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

 

 

 

Andaman Diaries - 2

 

 

Andaman Diaries -  2

Journey Through the Andaman Rain Forests

(My thanks are  due to  my  Ph.D Guide and Senior  colleague in GSI , Dr. J.R.Kayal professor emeritus, Kolkata, for    providing valuable insights  while writing this article .  This write up  is based on experiences of the GSI team at Andaman Islands, India)

One of the most memorable parts of our journey through the Andaman Islands was passing through the dense rain forests inhabited by the Jarawas, one of the region's oldest indigenous communities. Living primarily by hunting, fishing, and gathering forest produce, the Jarawas have maintained a way of life closely connected to nature for centuries.

Today, the Jarawas are no longer entirely unfamiliar with the outside world. The police officers stationed along the route knew many of them by name, reflecting the limited but ongoing contact between the community and the administration.

As our vehicle moved along the forest road, we spotted small groups of Jarawas standing quietly by the roadside. For security and conservation reasons, vehicles were not permitted to stop, and the Jarawas appeared largely indifferent to the passing traffic. However, one incident stood out. A young Jarawa boy approached a vehicle ahead of us, apparently hoping to receive some food. Nearby, a group of children watched the passing vehicles with curiosity, chatting among themselves and imitating words they had heard from travellers. It was a rare and fascinating glimpse into a culture very different from our own.

To protect the Jarawa community and preserve their traditional way of life, the government prohibits visitors from feeding or interacting with them. As we continued through the rain forest, we occasionally caught sight of more islanders among the trees, making the journey even more unforgettable.

Our route eventually brought us to the ferry crossing at Baratang, where vehicles and passengers were transported across narrow stretches of water separating the islands. After crossing two ferry points and traveling nearly 300 kilometers, we reached Diglipur, the northernmost town in the Andaman Islands.

From Diglipur, we continued to Mayabunder, a small coastal settlement where, with the assistance of local authorities, we installed our second seismograph. We spent the night at a PWD Rest House overlooking the sea. The peaceful surroundings, cool sea breeze, and panoramic ocean views provided a perfect ending to a long day of travel.

On 22 September, we began our return journey to Port Blair. As we retraced our route through the forests and islands, the images of the Jarawas, the lush rain forests, and the serene coastal landscapes remained etched in our memories, making this expedition one of the most remarkable experiences of our lives.

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

Andaman Diaries -1

 

Andaman Diaries -1

 ( My thanks are  due to  my  Ph.D Guide and Senior  colleague in GSI , Dr. J.R.Kayal professor emeritus, Kolkata, for    providing valuable insights  while writing this article .  This write up  is based on experiences of the GSI team at Andaman Islands, India) 

The decade between 1991 and 2001 witnessed several major earthquakes across India, including those at Uttarkashi, Chamoli, Killari, Jabalpur, and Bhuj. While scientists were still studying these events, another earthquake struck North Andaman on 14 September 2001. Though moderate in magnitude (about 6.0) and causing limited damage, it was of great scientific significance. Its epicentre lay beneath the sea, about 30 kilometres east of North Andaman, providing valuable data for understanding the region's active tectonics.

Five days later, on 19 September, our team left Kolkata carrying a portable seismograph to record aftershocks. After a long flight across the Bay of Bengal, we arrived at Port Blair, the capital of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Scattered like emerald jewels across the blue sea, the archipelago comprises 572 islands, of which only 36 are inhabited. Surrounded by lush forests, rolling hills, and coconut palms, the islands presented a picture of extraordinary natural beauty.

Soon after our arrival, we installed an earthquake-recording instrument and later visited the historic Cellular Jail. The Sound and Light Show vividly narrated the suffering and sacrifices of India's freedom fighters, leaving us deeply moved. In the evening, we relaxed at Marina Park, where colourful lights reflected on the calm waters, creating a magical atmosphere.

 Before dawn on 20 September, we began our journey to North Andaman along the famous Andaman Trunk Road. The route passed through dense tropical forests, fertile valleys, paddy fields, and picturesque villages. Every turn revealed fresh shades of green and breathtaking scenery.

After crossing several checkpoints, we entered the protected territory of the Jarawa tribe. Vehicles were required to travel in police-escorted convoys through the reserve. As we moved beneath towering forest canopies, the silence and mystery of the jungle created an unforgettable experience.

Although our visit was primarily a scientific mission, it became much more than that. The Andamans offered a rare blend of natural beauty, living history, and geological wonder. Long after the seismic data had been analysed, memories of emerald forests, tranquil seas, and the spirit of exploration remained etched in our minds. The Andaman Islands were not merely a destination—they were an experience that revealed both the power of nature and the beauty of one of India's most remarkable landscapes.

-Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya