The captain’s voice crackled through the speaker, announcing our descent into Guwahati. I instinctively leaned toward the window, eager for my first glimpse of home after twenty long days of travel. The sky was painted in shades of deep blue, fading into a warm amber glow near the horizon. Below, the Brahmaputra snaked through the city like a ribbon of liquid silver, reflecting the last remnants of daylight.
As we sank lower, the city lights began to twinkle—tiny specks of gold and white, scattered across the landscape. The heart of the old city, glowed softly by the river. The Saraighat Bridge, standing tall over the river, was a familiar sight—a silent guardian watching over the city’s past and present. Even in the dimming light, I could make out the silhouette of the Kamakhya Temple, perched atop the Nilachal Hills, its presence a comforting reminder that I was home.
A Journey Across Places, A Heart That Longed for Home
As the wheels touched down with a gentle thud, a strange mix of exhaustion and relief washed over me. Twenty days had passed—twenty days of exploring, learning, and losing myself in places so different yet equally fascinating.
The sheer speed and efficiency of the Delhi Metro, the lifeline of a bustling metropolis, had amazed me. In stark contrast, Bali had been a serene escape—waves lapping against the shores, the fragrance of frangipani in the air, and the soft chanting from temples creating an almost dreamlike ambiance.
At Birla Institute of Technology and Science, I had felt the weight of academia, standing in awe of a place where great minds were shaped. The energy at Ajmer Sharif Dargah had been unforgettable—the qawwals’ soulful voices, the sea of devotees, the scent of rose petals and incense mixing into a spiritual experience unlike any other.
Jaipur had been a quick but charming interlude—Patrika Gate, Jawahar Circle, and the vibrant streets offering a glimpse into a city that balances history and modernity with effortless grace.
And now, here I was, back in Guwahati, my heart beating faster as I stepped out of the airport and inhaled the familiar, humid air.
The Road Home
I hailed a cab, the driver giving me a polite nod as he placed our luggage in the trunk. The ride home was quiet, the city whizzing past in streaks of light and shadow. Azara, Maligaon, Panbazar—each neighborhood brought back memories, each turn in the road making me feel closer to my own world. Both my wife and We keep almost silent throughout the road may be due to exhaustion or may be losing the charm and beauty we enjoyed for the last twenty days and now back again to the routine.
I glanced outside at the Bharalu River, the traffic on AT Road moving sluggishly, yet there was something comforting about this chaos. The tea stalls were still alive with customers, a few rickshaw pullers huddled together, chatting over cups of steaming chai.
As the cab neared my house, I felt a deep contentment settle over me. No matter how beautiful the places I had visited, no matter how exhilarating the experiences, nothing quite compared to coming home.
I unlocked the door,and we stepped inside, and let out a long sigh. The familiarity of my space—my books on the shelf, the chair by the window, the soft glow of the night lamp—felt like an embrace. Dropping my bags, I stretched out on my bed, letting the comfort of home wrap around me like a warm blanket.Tomorrow, I would sort through my photographs, relive the journey through stories, and cherish the moments I had collected along the way. But tonight, I would simply close my eyes and breathe in the peace of home.
With it , we completed our journey for now and plan for some other beautiful place as soon as possible .
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI , ASSAM , INDIA
03/02/2025 .
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