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Quote by Jayita Bhattacharjee

“That river of sparkles. Is it the vein of life? Is that what my eyes behold with wonder? That river, that brought out the sage in me, now finds the sunlit bubbles of life. That river that flowed through the valleys of dark, now found its song, breaking the dam of sadness. Is this why the fields have full bloom flowers, And sour days are filled with sweets?”

Quote by Jayita Bhattacharjee

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Jayita Bhattacharjee

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“The art of femto-photography, or light in flight, had recently been patched in. The technique recorded video at such high speeds that it could reveal the very movement of light through three-dimensional space. Software slowed the footage so that humans could watch light fill a room as its wavefront rippled through the space. Through femto, light took its time, modulating the physics of illumination to make space for tenderness. Femto framed light as a lover – delicate, lingering, sensorial – intimacy slowed to the speed of longing. Light became sculpture. Time became texture.”

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“A Story in the Ink "Can the past arise from the grave? If not, then what is in a story? A tale, a hallowed ground where silent memories still remain, the bones among the heaps of dust. 'Break, break, break!' it says, The story, to the sleeping tomb, and the ink falls, the spoken word, to bloom and blaze in oblivion. Beneath the soil, they lay asleep, But the trembling hands wove at last, There they woke, living voices, There they walked in a land of light.”

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“Grief comes in tides, dark shadows in deep, A sudden, silent gulf where timeless treasures sleep, A hole, it tears, a hole that will never fill, And begs us to keep living, when joy has come to an end. The dark, dark path, deep in the woods, With heavy hearts, we walk, burnt in grief. In the achiest of ache, the quiet, pushing pain, for memories rise, like sunlight after rain. The times we once shared, a thread of radiant gold, Stretched, not torn, a story yet to be told, The grief-wet eyes, in the dark, dark days, Now they see the dawn-filled sky, for deep in the soul, a flower has opened, in the stream of tears, watering the soil. For those truly loved, no death can touch, those once held, no death can steal, They live in the deep, in the flowering of memories.”

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Author:Jayita Bhattacharjee
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