Camera and the Romantic Eye of a Seer-Voyeur in the Creation: Henri Cartier-Bresson and the Photographic Pilgrimage

Photograph by Henri Cartier-Bresson, Srinagar, India, 1948


So, you reap

And so, you must pray

To repay the debts you all owe to the almighty

In the shrouded silence of the clouds

In between the heavy Himalayan rocks,

In between you and me and the camera

that has passed eternity on celluloid film

And time morphed in its own way

Curving the slender back of a divine sun

In the rain on the ocean, in the shrouded mystery behind the veils

Woman as light in the octagonal prism-eye of occult manifestation

Saw pure hymns flowing down the mountain valley

Collect them on crystal mind of ether

And sing them a song in the morning glory.

– Joy Roy Choudhury

The White Line Energies of Shambhala that Recapture the Primal Essence of the Solar Disc to Create the New Dawn of the Civilization



Gyan -Ganj Plate 1, Samij Dutta, 2011

The White Line Energies of Shambhala that Recapture the Primal Essence of the Solar Disc to Create the New Dawn of the Civilization 


The black pearl in the mother of the stones, ionization energy per decra grativ in the quarto of time is the yoving car of sunyata; the trees after midnight offer their silent prayers to the heliocentric circles of the diminishing stars; morning sings the eragman blues that are the fire-yidams of the lasoto supramental ear- a point is a point in the alblackica mind, flying in the aerospace the light is often the light of the moon’s shadow in the vectors of Shambhala; the ripe old sun is the fruit of its perfume if the violets can dance to the rhyme of the excited ions; energy is the art of the mind to restore the creation from the decay of its space; time runs with her the lion symbols of the hoan manifested in the pupae of the butterfly cycle, every single color on the dotted wings is a pattern that evolution carries in the wave-germination of the particle towards the deep threaded probabilities that has no absolute but variable cognizance of a relative domain of time. Shadows are not shadows but the light of a constant delight that ferments the amino-glutamine structures of the proteins; a glass mirror can replicate the water cycles on earth through the vector diagrams of a clopen pyramid; the ice melting on the mountains bring rain on the salty seas for the seagulls to fly over rocks and boulders, and into the wide open empty spaces where the skull of the sun is buried as atoms in the charcoal fumes of the diamond light; red hot metal plates beneath the earth are shifting with time; come rain come rain come rain again to wash the feet, the ash is white line of energy that convert a neutral aldehyde into the lithium fragrance of the stars.

That’s how we began in ‘it was the hours before the Gods awake’, substance and form entangle with time to create words that offer energy to the spirit of the sun. without the silence the words are empty and without the words the energy has no rhythm of its own, the light is the dancing spectacle of alblackica, the night is the fear of the morning to become blind and without being blind there is no consciousness as eyes carry the germ that directs the light into the far ethereal madness of syllogistic heliographs.

– Joy Roy Choudhury

Ref:  Golden Solar-Disc/Sun-Disc of Lake Titicaca which was presumably used by ancient civilization as a cosmic computer to verify the source of the universal mind and to connect to it effectively for sharing knowledge and renewal of energy.













Time is the Wind of the River of No-Time: From Thames to Sabarmati

Charing Cross Bridge (Overcast Day)

Painting History: Claude Monet Charing Cross Bridge (Overcast Day) 1900
Oil on canvas. Lent by the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Given by Janet Hubbard Stevens in memory of her mother, Janet Watson Hubbard (Source Tate Online Gallery UK)

CONSCIOUSNESS-ANALOGUE: Time is the Wind of the River of No-Time 

(A River Song within the bracket of Non-Time Matter)

Time is the Wind of the River of No-Time (A River Song within the bracket of Non-Time Matter) click to watch (using Dell Mobile/voice-over taken over from Nehru Bridge, Ahmedabad)

Time is the Wind of the River of No-Time. Apples are red when the darkness dissolves the eye of the Sun. The father is the herdsmen of the tribe of the origin, his power is Alblackica is zero and one. He sees the river cross the ferries within the intervals of time and eternity, the winged-horse of freedom is the swan of the Bazuta Eternal.

Sage-Age-Reason is the proverb of the ultimate time, Hari Om Tat Sat (3x)

Man-eternal eats the fruit of wisdom’s horse and the river knows the way, the river knows the way…Ivory shadows are the moon’s pilgrims offering their mind to the Lord of the prayers. Thou cast your light on the river’s flaming arabesques, return them to the sea, to them you owe the beautiful unmanifest, the silent word of offering and love that pass without passing

huang truang mrinumva tavath (3x)

No man is free till he learns to fly, his despair should give rise to evangelical wings that must soar heavenwards into the bodhi-chitta of the primal embodiment, into the habber-brahman of the zeugma.

Tithonus crying like a black veil that masks the mystic octet of the adi param-brahman.

Changes reconstitute the New Order, the living daylights are the purple candles of the burning rose, the blind is the vision of the unblinded darkness, the dead are not dead – a life beyond the stars have culminated in the divine design of the earthly paradise symbolized by man.

He is the war-elephant of the dead horse-king! He is the power and the source of all divinity that do exist or will exist. His alms are the worshipped petals of the fragrant heart of the Mother, to her he prays so she will descend to make good and beautiful all that we know or need to know that do exist since the birth of this creation.

Eos dawns her lover with the peach blossoms of spring, the caesura is the fountain of life; appellations are the white harmony of the ambrosiac fruit that time devours, honor her as immortality waits in the seeds sown in the twilight hours of Alblackica.

– Joy Roy Choudhury