One more cap of encouragement

Leader Vs Manager

(C) All right reserved by the author

Slide -30

The Last Monsoon( part -V)

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INSTAGRAM : @rajatchandrasarmah5

Arun looked into her eyes, the storm beginning to calm as understanding washed over them. “I promise,” he replied, squeezing her hand tightly. “We’ll navigate this together, no matter how difficult it gets.”

With renewed determination, they decided to take on their families together. They would set boundaries and carve out their identities. The next day, they arranged a family meeting, inviting their parents to discuss their futures openly.

The rain continued to pour as they gathered, each family seated with expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism. Riya and Arun exchanged glances, steeling themselves for the conversation ahead.

“Thank you for coming,” Riya began, her heart pounding. “We’ve realized that we want to chart our own course, and we hope you can support us in this journey.”

Her father crossed his arms, the tension in the room palpable. “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice steady but guarded.

“We want to pursue our passions,” Arun interjected, his voice firm. “I want to teach art, and Riya wants to start her own business. We believe we can build fulfilling lives without adhering strictly to tradition.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Riya held her breath, searching her parents’ faces for any sign of acceptance. Her mother finally spoke, “But what about stability? What about marriage? You’re going against everything we envisioned for you.”

Riya felt a knot tighten in her stomach, but she pushed through. “I understand your concerns, but stability isn’t just about financial security. It’s about emotional fulfillment. We’re committed to each other, and we want to grow together.”

Arun nodded. “We hope you’ll give us a chance to prove that our choices are valid. We want your support, but we need to be true to ourselves first.”

Their parents exchanged glances, and Riya could see the conflict in their expressions. After a moment, her father sighed, his shoulders sagging. “This is not what we had planned for you, but if you believe this is what will make you happy, then we will try to understand. But understand this: the path you choose will be fraught with challenges.”

Riya felt a surge of relief but also knew the weight of his words. “We’ll take responsibility for our choices. We promise to keep you updated and involved.”

As the meeting concluded, Riya felt the storm within her settle. They were still uncertain about the future, but they had taken the first step toward independence. The rains continued to pour, but there was a newfound sense of hope in the air.

Over the following weeks, Riya and Arun worked tirelessly on their respective dreams. Riya began crafting beautiful, handmade items for her business, inspired by the nature surrounding her village. Arun started teaching art at the local school, igniting the passion within young hearts.

Their efforts bore fruit; Riya’s crafts gained popularity, and Arun’s students flourished under his guidance. They found joy in the small victories, each success fueling their love for each other and the life they were building together.

However, the shadow of familial expectations still loomed. As their achievements grew, so did the scrutiny from both families. “You should be focusing on marriage, not these frivolities,” Riya’s father warned one evening. Arun faced similar pressure at home, where his family questioned his decisions and his commitment to Riya.

One night, as they lay in bed, Riya turned to Arun, her heart heavy. “What if we’re fighting a losing battle?” she asked, fear creeping into her voice. “What if they never accept us?”

Arun wrapped his arms around her, anchoring her in his embrace. “We can’t give up. We’ve come too far to turn back now. We need to keep showing them that our love is worth fighting for.”

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam ,India

16/12/24

The Eternal Conversation of Sun and Moon

PEN TO GLORY (Final round)

Continued from my post on 14/12/2024

(C) ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR

 In the vast theater of existence, a fleeting moment arrives when the brilliance of day bows gracefully to the quiet mystery of night. It is a threshold where certainty dissolves into wonder, and the world seems to hold its breath in reverence. The fiery glow of the horizon softens, leaving behind not an end, but the whisper of a promise shimmering in the silence.

The golden blaze of the departing day is a testament to ambition—a force as restless as the human spirit. It mirrors our compulsion to strive, to create, and to carve a mark upon the sands of time. This light burns with purpose, slicing through the chaos of existence. Yet, as it sinks below the horizon, it reveals a profound truth: even the most relentless pursuits must bow to the sanctity of pause. The fading brilliance is not a retreat; it is a transformation, a quiet assurance that renewal begins in stillness.

With the arrival of night comes a different kind of light—subtle, steady, and unassuming. It does not command; it beckons. It invites introspection, offering a space for thoughts too delicate to emerge under the sun’s glare. This borrowed luminescence is not a conqueror but a confidant, a quiet companion guiding us through the labyrinth of reflection. Under its soft glow, the mind untangles the knots of the day, and the spirit finds clarity in the shadows. It is a sanctuary where the unspoken finds its voice.

These two forces—one fierce, the other tender—are not adversaries but partners in a cosmic dance. Together, they form a cycle that mirrors the duality within us all. The drive to achieve and the wisdom to pause, the desire to ascend and the need to return—these are not contradictions but complements. True harmony lies in weaving these opposing threads together, embracing both the fire that propels us forward and the quiet that grounds us.

This interplay is also a reflection of time itself, that unseen river carrying us through beginnings and endings. The fading light and emerging glow are not mere markers of hours; they are symbols of life’s transient beauty. Each fleeting moment, like the colors of twilight, holds a story—a gentle reminder that impermanence is not a loss but a gift, urging us to cherish the present even as it slips into memory.

On a deeper level, these contrasts echo the relationships that shape our lives. Some people blaze like the sun, igniting passion and challenging us to grow. Others resemble the moon, offering quiet strength and unwavering presence. It is in their coexistence that we find balance, a wholeness that reflects the intricate canvas of human connections.

The meeting of the sun and moon is more than a celestial event; it is a metaphor for resilience, for the interplay of opposites that defines our existence. It speaks of gratitude—not only for moments of dazzling brilliance but also for the quiet beauty of reflection. It urges us to honor both the courage to chase our dreams and the wisdom to pause and appreciate the journey.

As the day whispers it’s farewell and the night hums its arrival, we are reminded of our own duality. We are, each of us, a blend of intensity and calm, of bold strides and measured steps. To live fully is to carry within us both the sun’s fire and the moon’s grace, to embody the courage to shine brightly and the wisdom to glow softly. And in this delicate balance, we find not just existence, but its deep  meaning.

*********

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati ,Assam ,India

15/12/2024

The Pen to Glory National Competition.

The above National competition was organised by Blue Star Publication in 3( three) rounds of selection process . In The first round thousands of people participated making the competition very interesting but tough.

I got short listed for the second round along with 178  ( one hundred and seventy right) other participants . I got also selected in the second round making it more enthusiastic for me to compete with the other 46 selected . 

The final round was very tough and the organiser provided a complex picture  of sun and moon and to write our thought in any genre within 200-800 words .

I submitted a prose ,about my thoughts  coming to my mind ,looking at the picture and submitted . Yesterday , the Final result came , and to my astonishment , I got selected as Runners Up .

Very Very Happy to be in the list of winners in a National level competition .

My writing for the final will be published here tomorrow for your views .

Thanks to all my readers , you are the inspiration for me .

Hidden letters

The Last Monsoon( part -IV)

ALL RIGHT RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR

INSTAGRAM : @rajatchandrasarmah5

As they left her parents’ house, Arun pulled her into a tight embrace. “You were amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

“We did it together,” she replied, feeling a warmth spread through her.

With each passing day of the monsoon, Riya and Arun navigated their new life, filled with uncertainty yet fueled by hope. They faced challenges, from managing finances to adjusting to each other’s habits. Their love deepened, but so did their worries.

One evening, as they sat on the balcony watching the rain cascade down, Arun turned to her. “I’ve been thinking, what if we pursue our careers? I want to be an artist, but I’m also considering applying for a teaching position at the local school. I could inspire others to find their passion.”

Riya smiled, her heart swelling with pride. “And I’m thinking of starting a small business selling handmade crafts. I want to give back to our community.”

Arun looked at her, admiration in his eyes. “Together, we can make a difference.”

But as the monsoon wore on, they began to feel the strain of reality. Riya received calls from her parents, filled with concern about her future. Arun faced pressure from his family, who questioned his choices. “Why would you want to teach when you could pursue a career in the city?” they asked, bewildered by his desire to stay in Anandpur.

The weight of their families’ expectations began to erode the joyful foundation they had built. Riya could see the worry lines etching deeper into Arun’s face. “We need to prove them wrong,” she said one evening, frustration spilling over. “We can’t let them dictate our happiness.”

Arun sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I know, but it’s hard. What if we fail? What if we don’t meet their expectations?”

Riya felt her heart sink. “What if we don’t try? What if we live our lives in regret?”

As the final storm of the monsoon approached, the tension between them grew. They began to argue more, small disagreements escalating into larger fights. Each conflict chipped away at the love they had nurtured

One particularly stormy night, after a heated argument about finances, Riya found herself alone on the balcony, tears streaming down her face as the rain fell around her. The world felt dark, and she feared losing the one person she loved most.

Arun joined her, concern etched on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t want to fight. I just feel so lost.”

She looked at him, feeling the weight of their struggles. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we can’t let this break us. We have to find a way back to each other, to the love that brought us together in the first place.”

He reached for her hand, and they stood together in silence, the storm raging around them, mirroring the tempest in their hearts. Riya closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh scent of rain-soaked earth, hoping it would cleanse their spirits. “Let’s make a pact,” she said, her voice steadying. “No more letting our families dictate our happiness. Let’s promise to communicate and fight for what we want—together.”

Rajat Chandra Sarmah 

Guwahati , Assam India

11/12/2024

Feeling ecstatic to get this recognition. Thank you friends for your inspirations

Leadership Vs Managers

Slide 29

(C) All right reserved by the author

The Last Monsoon( part -III)

ALL RIGHT RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR

INSTAGRAM : @rajatchandrasarmah5

Her parents looked at her, puzzled. “What is it, Riya?” her father asked, concern creasing his brow.

“It’s about Arun,” she began, glancing at him for support. “We’re in love, and we want to build our lives together.”

The room fell silent, tension thick in the air. Her mother exchanged glances with her father, the unspoken weight of tradition hanging heavily over them. “Riya, this isn’t how things are done,” her father said finally. “You know our values, our expectations.”

Arun spoke up, his voice firm yet respectful. “Sir, I respect your traditions, but Riya and I have been best friends for years. We’ve shared our dreams, our struggles. We believe in each other.”

Her mother’s voice broke through the silence, laced with concern. “But what about security? What about your futures?”

“We’ve thought about it,” Riya replied, her voice quivering but determined. “We want to pursue our dreams together, not apart. We’ll support each other in our endeavors.”

Riya’s father shook his head, disappointment clouding his features. “You’re being naive, Riya. Love is important, but it isn’t everything. You need stability.”

The argument spiraled, each point met with counterpoints, voices rising in frustration. Riya felt her resolve waver under the weight of her parents’ expectations. In that moment of chaos, she turned to Arun, seeking strength in his gaze. He squeezed her hand, grounding her amidst the storm.

As the rain continued to pour, a thought struck Riya. “What if we take a leap of faith?” she said, her voice rising above the din. “We could live together for a while. See how we fare, together. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll reconsider. But I believe in us.”

Her parents paused, considering her words. The room was silent except for the sound of rain against the roof, a rhythmic reminder of their resolve.

After what felt like an eternity, her father finally spoke. “This is unconventional, Riya, but… if you truly believe in this, then we will support your decision. But understand, you will be responsible for whatever happens.”

Riya felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as relief washed over her. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam , India

08/12/24