Date: 12/06/2025
He began without preface.
“Love, when young, is loud. Fireworks, promises, letters. But love, when it ages… it’s quieter. It becomes a prayer you whisper while tying your shoelaces.”
I listened.
“I loved once. Deeply. She passed away before our third anniversary. People said time would heal. They lied. Time only teaches you how to walk with the limp.”
I didn’t know what to say.
He held out an old photograph — a smiling woman with a red bindi.
“She taught me that silence can be beautiful.”
The train whistled in the background.
As I left, he said,
“If you love someone, tell them often. Not loudly — just honestly. That’s enough.”
I turned back.
He wasn’t on the bench anymore.
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
musingofrajat.wordpress.com 