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1 October 2026

A house can be beautiful and still feel empty.

A small room can be crowded with old furniture and yet feel strangely warm.

I think the difference is rarely in the walls.

It is in the people.

There are houses we remember not because of their size or appearance, but because somebody was always there. A mother calling from the kitchen. A father reading the newspaper. Children arguing over something completely unimportant. A neighbour dropping in without calling first.

Years later, we may forget the colour of the curtains.

We remember the voices.

Perhaps that is why returning to an old place can sometimes be disappointing. The walls are still there, the road may still be there, but the people who gave the place its meaning may have moved on.

William Shakespeare wrote, “There’s no place like home.”

Perhaps home is not really a place at all.

Perhaps it is the feeling of being recognised when we walk through a door.

The feeling that somebody noticed we had arrived.

And when we are fortunate enough to have known that feeling, we carry a little of it wherever we go.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah, Guwahati, Assam, India, Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah, YouTube: conversewithasmile, email rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com