Through the Octagon: A Gaze into Kolkata’s Forgotten Courtyard
In the heart of an aging colonial building, hidden behind shuttered balconies and rusted railings, lies an architectural secret — a perfect octagonal void stretching up to the sky, as captured hauntingly in this evocative photograph. This courtyard, both cage and cosmos, reveals more than just its geometry. It holds the soul of a city caught between memory and oblivion.
The image baths in rich green and amber tones — an intentional palette that lends a cinematic, almost noir texture to the scene. Each floor folds into the next with shadowed wooden railings and closed louvered shutters, narrating stories of silence, once echoing voices, and the pulse of forgotten lives. A single light glows below, like a heartbeat, guiding the eye toward the void above.
Above this symmetrical stillness is a vast sky — dark, speckled, and stretching infinitely — contrasting the boxed life within the brick. The view from below transforms the building into a time capsule. One feels like a lone observer at the bottom of a well, peering up into time, watching a sliver of night pass by. A faint streak in the sky — perhaps a shooting star or a satellite — reminds us of movement, progress, or maybe escape.
This photograph does not merely document a structure; it evokes Kolkata’s layered existence — once opulent, now crumbling, yet somehow eternal. It’s a love letter to the silent heritage courtyards of North Kolkata — spaces that were once full of laughter, heated debates, evening adda, and midnight whispers. Today, they stand as relics — alive only when seen with eyes that remember.
A View Through Time
Buildings like this are not just spaces; they are timekeepers. Their windows’ eyelids close in long sleep, their walls — diaries etched with moss, soot, and peeling paint. The shot doesn’t allow any human figure to break the visual solitude, making the observer feel like both intruder and inheritor of a story paused in mid-sentence.
In an era of glass towers and fast lives, this photograph reminds us to look up, not just at what is new, but at what remains. The sky framed in the octagon doesn’t just reflect stars — it reflects the possibility of remembrance. And in that act of seeing, we preserve a part of the city’s soul.
Closing Thought
This is not merely a building. This is an inhale held for decades. The moment we look at this picture — we let it exhale. And the city breathes with us.