Poem : In the hands of Time

 

      In the  hands of Time 

I saw her descending the winding stair,

With frills on her gown and curls in her hair.

She was beauty itself, an innocent sight,

A vision of purity, dressed all in white.

She filled my soul with wonder-struck light.

"Lead me," I whispered, "to the freezing Alps",

Where ancient culture crowns the mountain scalps.

But she waved her small hand with a smile so divine,

And whispered, "The path that I walk is not thine."

I traveled a distance, through years long and wide,

Until a lady appeared at my side.

She was dressed all in pink, and I reached for her hand,

To seek out the wonders of some distant land.

Of fashion and flavour, of all things refined,

I thought that in her, my new world was designed.

But her handshake was stern as she turned from my side;

Then came the twilight, the end of my years,

When a lady in blue appeared through my fears.

"Would you hold me?" I asked, and she firmly took hold,

To show me the secrets the Eiffel Tower  could unfold.

I looked through her eyes like a child full of awe,

The rising sun, the moon’s soft light looked anew .

I was a child again, though my hair was grey,

Finding the soul I’d lost along the way.

I painted and listened to music’s sweet strain,

And forgot "January" for "Janvier’s" domain.

Then came the storm, a whistling, whirling gale,

A whirlwind turned the blue horizon pale.

In the spinning dark, I lost her steady hand;

The Lady in Blue vanished from my land.

I searched the shadows, frantic and alone,

Until I saw her perched upon a stone.

High above the world, where jewels  dwell,

She stood upon the rock to say farewell.

"Adieu," she called, as the mist began to rise,

Leaving me with the light she’d put in my eyes.

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

27.01.2026

Poem : The Taste of Homecoming

 The Taste of Homecoming

( This poem is based on a true life incident which took place on a stormy evening of 1988 at Kendrachal , Central Govt Colony. Lucknow )

It rained, rained, and rained, Thunder echoed all around. I sat in the balcony, watching, Kendrachal colony wrapped in storm. We were at home — My mother, brother, and I. Each flash of lightning Raised the fears inside me high. I strolled in restless silence, Father was still not back home. Then — a gentle knock at the door. Off to my heels I fled. Father stood there, drenched, Merciless rain clinging to his frame. I brewed four cups of tea, The most tasteful tea of years. And I wondered — Was it the flavor of tea, Or the sweetness of a dear one Home again?

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

GSI Field Diaries

 

  In Search of the Mystery of the Ranga River

( My thanks are  due to  my  Ph.D Guide and Senior  colleague in GSI , Dr. J.R.Kayal professor emeritus,  ISM,  Dhanbad, for providing valuable insights  while writing this article .  This write up  is based on experiences  during Geophysical  field assignment  in Geological Survey of India)

In the heart of Arunachal’s Ranga Valley, nature and humanity exist in a rare, rhythmic harmony. It was here that I met Heli, a young Nishi woman of about twenty-five, serving as our daytime camp guard. With her fair skin, Mongolian features, and a figure that radiated strength, she stood as a testament to the rugged landscape. She wore a tattered white saree without blouse, her hair dusted with the earth of a week's labor, a long machete sheathed at her side.

When I urged her to move her bamboo-cutting work from the scorching sun into the shade, she offered only a faint smile and a reply that was as haunting as it was profound:"No, sir. By working with love, a person gains strength; a person remains alive. In the shade sits a man who is about to die."

Her words captured the spirit of the Nishi people—an indigenous tribe as resilient and unyielding as the river that defines their home. The Ranga River, an eighty-kilometer-long daughter of the Himalayas, descends from the Dafla peaks with a thunderous roar. Fed by a thousand waterfalls, she is a river of eternal youth, restless and surging, eventually surrendering her strength to the Subansiri and, ultimately, the mighty Brahmaputra.

The Ranga is a study in contrasts: transparent and serene in clear weather, yet wild and muddy under the rain. She is a force of creation and destruction, crushing granite into sand to carve out the very valleys the Nishi call home. Civilisation has followed her lead, carving roads into the mountainside to follow her path.

From our vantage point at the GSI’s Hawa Camp, the air is filled with the constant, musical roar of the currents. This valley, birthed by the Ranga, provides a peaceful sanctuary for the Nishi settlements. Here, amidst the "Transit Camp " and a newly established network of earthquake observation stations, one feels the pulse of the earth—a world where the mountains stand in solemn meditation and the river never stops its song.

 

                                                                  - Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

 

 

Bindi : The Essence of Indian Civilization

 Bindi : The Essence of Indian Civilization

 

The Bindi  or  Tikka adorning the  forehead  in the space in between the eyebrows of Women in India specially married Women is often misunderstood as a mere symbol of marital status, but its origins are rooted deeply in ancient Indic science rather than social custom. It is positioned specifically at the Ajna Chakra (he energy center between the eyebrows), the "third eye" or mystic center of our being

In Hindu tradition, this point is considered the gateway for prana (life force). The significance of this location is highlighted during funeral rituals, where the skull is symbolically pierced to allow the life force to depart through the Brahmarandhra, a point where thousands of subtle energy channels (nerves)  converge . The practice of applying bindi serves  two primary scientific purposes:

1.  Activating the Life Force: By applying pressure or pigments to this point, the spiritual center remains active and energized .

2. Harnessing Solar Energy: The traditional red color is specifically used to absorb the " energy" of the sun . Historically, this was not gender-specific; men also wore bindis to fill themselves with solar vitality

In daily life, women traditionally reapplied the bindi several times to maintain this energy connection. They would apply it in the morning while offering water to the sun, reapply it if it washed away after cooking at the Chulha, and again in the evening—ensuring their spiritual center remained constantly revitalized . This continuous cycle of reapplication served as a "spiritual anchor," reminding the wearer to keep their thoughts focused on the divine and their higher purpose, even amidst mundane household activities

 - Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya