Yaadein

Front:

The front holds the soul of Vshey, where a swing hangs from branches that are slowly losing their leaves, reminding us of the same childhood tree where we once sat, played, and rested under its shade. Below, a pocket opens into a fragile memory: an old house stands quietly, the sky crossed with simple wires where birds sit in silence, and a kite flies above as time moves gently forward. Empty chairs hold a child whose eyes are covered not by darkness but by innocence, with a small flower resting on the blindfold as a symbol of pure hope. In front of the house, three children play a simple rope game, two turning the rope while a little girl jumps without fear, unaware that these ordinary moments will one day become memories we ache for. Above it all, a raised patch softly reminds us that somewhere deep inside, childhood still plays.

Sleeve:

The sleeve carries the streets of our past, where a balloon seller walks slowly with colours that once made our days brighter, while the words’ childhood’, ‘past’, and ‘time’ sit together as a quiet reminder of how one moment turns into another. Beside it, an old kulfi cart moves on simple wheels, and a child buys kulfi with the kind of happiness that needed nothing more than a few coins and patience. These small scenes turn the sleeve into a moving memory, where joy was simple, and life moved gently.

Back:

The back tells the story we rarely face. Inside a cut panel, three children roll a bicycle with a wooden stick, build small homes, and fly kites the way we once did, free and unaware of endings. Hand-stitched threads above and below try to hold these moments together, but beyond them stretches a quiet beach where a lone man walks forward. That man is us, the one who had to leave childhood behind to move ahead in life. Above him, a raised patch speaks a question meant only for the self, reminding us that growing up often means walking alone with memories following silently.