Let us discuss the First situation i.e., assume a person desires to achieve something and is trying day and night ,even during his sleep he thinks about his dream, alternatively about his target. But unfortunately on the day of his crucial date , he under performed or he could not participate due to some genuine or critical reasons . In such a condition, whether we tell him that he has lost or unsuccessful or express our views differently.
The example of our great athlete Vinesh is the most recent example . She was giving her everything and reached the final of the olympic 50 kg wrestling . But she was disqualified for the final for hundred grams extra in her weight .
Till the semi final she was the winner – meaning she was successful . But in the final, she was disqualified for 100 grams of extra weight . The same girl who was qualified as per weight requirement till the semi final , failed in the test for the final and she was not allowed to show her talent
So , as per dictionary meaning she was not successful . Is it so ?
The girl who was qualified till the semi final on weight count , could not pass the test for the final . Can we call her a failure? In one sense , yes because she could not keep her weight within limit . But I do not consider her a failure , because the girl who maintained her weight till the semi final, accidentally failed by 100 grams on the final .
This means , she has given her everything for the game , tried everything possible to reach the final , and in the end she could not play. If she played and lost things could have been differently analysed, but she could not play.
Is it a luck factor , Will of God , treachery of someone , whatever may be the reason? She failed to reach her target , the Olympic Gold. So, she is unsuccessful .
But what do you say , when you see from the angle that she came for a very humble background , a girl from the conservative family of haryana and reached to the final of olympic .This itself is a great success but it is a bad luck or Will of God that she could not play the final . So success is not only reaching the ultimate goal but trying to achieve the desired goal. And balance is the Will of God or luck whatever we like to say .
So . What I want to say is that success is not the winning of the target but trying with all the might to achieve the target .
Now discuss the second assumptions –
Suppose , in the field , someone wants to be the Olympic winner . With all his past performance shows that he has really no major threat. But in the final someone else went ahead of him.
Similar incidents happened several times in Olympic history itself . When one has the record of best performances outside the olympic and no one even comes near to him in performance , have failed miserably in olympics . Is it to be called unsuccessful?
I think , yes, because he has the capacity and opportunity , but failed to keep his own performance . Or is it just a bad day ? ( TO BE CONTINUED )
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI , ASSAM INDIA
EMAIL: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
Instragram : @ rajatchandrasarmah5
I referred to the Oxford dictionary and it says- Achieve something that you have been trying to do or get, to have the result or effect that was intended.
In Cambridge Dictionary Success means – The Achieving of the desired results or someone or something that achieves positive results .
Let’s start our discussion by asking some questions based on the above two definitions from the Best of the English Dictionaries.
First , assume a person desires to achieve something and day and night he was behind that even during his sleep he thought about his dream . Alternatively about his target. But unfortunately on the day of his crucial date , he under performed or he could not participate due to some genuine critical reason . Is he lost or has he had success ?
Secondly -Suppose , in the field , someone wants to be the Olympic winner . with all his past performance shows that he has really no major threat. But in the final someone else went ahead of him.
Third , a poor person suddenly got some money in the lottery and with his prudent decisions made him a billionaire. But he suddenly has no time for his family or about himself also.
Fourth , a middle class person always having shortages , but live happily with his family and spent lot of time with them though he could not fulfil all their requirements
Fifth – A person is fully qualified for something say for a job , but someone else took the job from him through some illegal means
Sixth – A person with honesty and dedication has contested an election with a rowdy , uneducated but rich person , and the honest competent person lost. Is it a success or failure?
Seventh -In the field , a leading runner saw one of his competitors fall down and he helped him to lift up . As a result he could not reach the target in time .
Eighth – Suppose You are very busy going to the office and at that time a very old person requests you for help to cross the road . The busy man helped the old man to cross the road and get a banging from his boss and lost a casual leave
Ninth -In the road , you saw a dog in distress as a car hit him and the driver did not stop . you arranged his treatment and the dog gradually recovered . this was not in your plan and target but happened . what do you say to it
Tenth- There was natural calamity and many people , animals get affected and knowing all this you sit comfortably in your house enjoying holidays due to the calamity
These are some questions I asked myself to understand the meaning of success . Every time one more word comes to mind while trying to explain the above kind of phenomena . That is Satisfaction .( To be continued)
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI , ASSAM INDIA
EMAIL: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
Instragram : @ rajatchandrasarmah5
In the quaint village of Rampur, nestled amidst lush green fields and flanked by the serene Ganges, election fever had gripped every soul. The village, known for its age-old traditions and simple lifestyle, was suddenly the epicenter of political drama, comical in nature but deeply revealing of the underlying social conflicts.
The two main contenders for the coveted position of Sarpanch were Ramesh and Suresh. Ramesh, the son of a wealthy landlord, was a man of few words but many promises. His campaign slogan, “Vikas ki nayi lehar” (A new wave of development), was plastered on every wall and tree in Rampur. On the other hand, Suresh, a humble school teacher, campaigned on the platform of “Nyay aur insaaf” (Justice and fairness). The village was divided, not just by these slogans, but by caste, class, and ancient rivalries.
One hot afternoon, an amusing but poignant scene unfolded at the local tea stall. Chhotu, the tea vendor, a Dalit himself, had a knack for humor. As Ramesh’s supporters gathered, he started serving tea in new, shiny cups for them, and old, chipped ones for Suresh’s supporters. When questioned, he cheekily replied, “Just following tradition. The new cups for the rulers and the old ones for the ruled!”
“Arrey Chhotu, you’re making us look bad,” joked Kishan, a staunch Ramesh supporter.
“Well, Kishan bhaiya, maybe it’s time we all get shiny cups!” retorted Chhotu with a grin. The sarcasm was not lost, and a ripple of laughter, mixed with uncomfortable silence, spread through the crowd. It was a humorous jab at the deeply entrenched caste system, but it hit the mark, making people reflect on the absurdity of their divisions.
Next, the village saw a battle of opulence. Ramesh’s campaign was funded by his father, who left no stone unturned. From lavish feasts to distributing freebies like blankets and liquor, the Ramesh camp was a carnival of excess. Suresh, with his modest means, could only manage small gatherings where he spoke passionately about honesty and integrity.
One evening, during a village meeting, Suresh, in his simple attire, addressed the crowd, “Brothers and sisters, you see the grandeur of Ramesh’s campaign. But remember, a lavish wedding doesn’t guarantee a happy marriage!”
The crowd chuckled. “Suresh bhai, you always know how to make a point,” commented Ravi, a farmer.
Ramesh’s camp tried to counter by showcasing their wealth further, but the seeds of doubt were sown. The villagers began to see through the facade, questioning if wealth equated to capability.
Women, often sidelined in village politics, found a voice through Suresh’s wife, Lakshmi. She was a fiery woman with a sharp wit. During a campaign event, she humorously narrated an incident, “Yesterday, Ramesh’s men came to our house with a sari for me, asking for my vote. I told them, ‘Why a sari? Give me an equal share of the fields instead!’”
The crowd burst into laughter. “Lakshmi didi, you’ve got more guts than all the men here!” shouted a woman from the back.
The message was clear. Women wanted more than token gestures; they demanded equality and respect. Lakshmi’s involvement brought women to the forefront, breaking the patriarchal norm. They began organizing meetings, discussing issues that affected them directly – health, education, and employment. The village elders, initially dismissive, had to acknowledge the growing influence of women in the electoral process.
Rampur’s youth, often caught between tradition and modernity, were vocal supporters of change. They were drawn to Suresh’s vision of a progressive village. One evening, at the local playground, a cricket match turned into a heated debate.
“Raj, why are you supporting Suresh? Isn’t Ramesh’s plan better for our future?” asked Mohan, panting from the game.
Raj, a college student, replied, “Our fathers and grandfathers have always voted based on caste and money. It’s time we think about our future – jobs, education, and technology.”
The elders, sipping their tea, retorted with nostalgia-laden tales of the past. “In our days, we respected our elders and traditions,” said one elder, shaking his head.
“But Dadaji, times have changed. We need to look forward,” Raj insisted.
The generational conflict was evident, but it was laced with humor and respect, making the debate lively and enlightening.
Rampur, though predominantly Hindu, had a small Muslim population. Over the years, communal tensions had sporadically flared, often manipulated by political interests. This election, Ramesh’s supporters tried to play the religious card subtly, warning against ‘outsiders’ influencing the village.
Suresh, with his inclusive approach, organized a communal harmony event. At this event, the village’s oldest residents, a Hindu priest, and a Muslim cleric, both in their 90s, shared the stage. They recounted stories of their childhood, playing together, celebrating each other’s festivals. The priest joked, “I still remember, Imam sahab used to steal my sweets during Holi!”
The laughter was hearty, breaking the ice and the walls of mistrust. “And I still owe you some sweets, Panditji!” the cleric replied with a twinkle in his eye.
As election day approached, Rampur was abuzz with excitement. The humorous anecdotes and clever jabs had made the campaign entertaining, but the underlying messages were powerful. The villagers, through their laughter and debates, had begun questioning the age-old social conflicts.
Election day in Rampur dawned with a mix of excitement and tension. The village, buzzing with activity, saw long queues of voters at the polling booth set up near the ancient banyan tree. There was an air of festivity, with people dressed in their best clothes, and street vendors selling snacks and sweets.
In the midst of the crowd, Chhotu, the tea vendor, was having a field day. He had set up a makeshift stall right outside the polling booth. As villagers sipped tea and debated fiercely about their candidates, Chhotu added his own brand of humor to the mix. “So, did you vote for the sari or the schoolbooks?” he quipped, drawing hearty laughs and some embarrassed smiles.
The tension peaked as the day drew to a close. Villagers gathered in the community hall, where the counting of votes was to take place. The air was thick with anticipation. Ramesh, dressed in his finest kurta, stood confidently with his entourage. Suresh, ever humble, mingled with the villagers, shaking hands and sharing jokes.
The results were announced with much fanfare. To everyone’s surprise, it was a close call, but Suresh emerged victorious by a narrow margin. The celebrations were modest but heartfelt. Ramesh, though disappointed, gracefully accepted the defeat, promising to work together for the village’s betterment.
As the celebrations continued into the night, the villagers reflected on the election. The humorous episodes, the witty remarks, and the spirited debates had made the campaign unforgettable. But more importantly, it had opened their eyes to the deeper issues plaguing their community.
The village elders, who had initially dismissed the youth’s ideas, now sat in thoughtful silence. The women, who had found a new sense of empowerment, discussed plans for community projects. The youth, buoyed by their success, began planning initiatives to bring technology and education to Rampur.
Lakshmi, ever the firebrand, addressed the crowd one last time. “This is just the beginning. We have proven that we can laugh at our problems, but we must also work to solve them. Let’s make Rampur a model village for all to see!”
In the end, Rampur’s election drama, filled with humor and wit, had done more than just elect a new Sarpanch. It had initiated a dialogue on social conflicts, making the villagers laugh, think, and, most importantly, change. The village had taken its first step towards a more inclusive and progressive future, proving that sometimes, the best way to tackle serious issues is through a good dose of humor and a hearty laugh.( END)
Rajat chandra sarmah
Guwahati , Assam , India
5/8/24
Email ID : rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
Instagram : @rajatchandrasarmah5
Pratim and Sita knew they had to act. They organized a meeting with the village council and presented their plan for sustainable development. The council deliberated, and after much discussion, they agreed to present the proposal to Mr. Verma. The meeting was tense, with emotions running high. Pratim and Sita presented their case passionately, highlighting the long-term benefits of sustainable development. Mr. Verma listened intently. After a long silence, he spoke. “Your proposal is ambitious and idealistic. But it has merit. We are willing to consider it if the community supports it.”The villagers, seeing the sincerity and dedication of Pratim and Sita, rallied behind them. They organized community meetings, educating everyone about the benefits of sustainable development. Slowly, the tide began to turn. Months passed, and the once-divided village started to work together towards a common goal. The construction site was transformed, incorporating eco-friendly technologies and practices. The river, once polluted, began to heal, thanks to the efforts of the community. One evening, as the sun set over Sundarpur, the villagers gathered under the banyan tree to celebrate their success. Pratim and Sita stood together, looking out at the smiling faces of their friends and neighbours.”We did it,” Sita said, her eyes shining with pride. Pratim smiled. “Yes, we did. But this is just the beginning. We have to keep working to ensure that progress and preservation go hand in hand.”As the celebrations continued, the villagers of Sundarpur realized that true progress was not just about economic growth, but about maintaining a balance between development and tradition, between the future and the past. And in this balance, they found their strength and unity. The story of Sundarpur became an inspiration for other villages facing similar dilemmas, a testament to the power of community and the importance of preserving one’s heritage while embracing the future. As the village thrived, Pratim and Sita knew that their work had only begun. They continued to educate and inspire, ensuring that Sundarpur’s example would light the way for others to follow. (END)
Rajat Chandra Sarmah 04/08/2024
GUWAHATI ,ASSAM, INDIA
Email ID : rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
Instragram : @rajatchjandrasarmah5
Lush green fields and serene landscapes lay the village of Sundarpur. Sundarpur had been a beacon of simplicity and tradition for generations, untouched by the rapid industrialisation sweeping across the nation. The villagers lived in harmony with nature, their lives intertwined with the rhythms of the seasons. This peace, however, was soon to be tested.Pratim, a young and idealistic engineer, had recently returned to Sundarpur after completing his studies in the bustling city of Chennai. The city had offered him a world of opportunities, but it had also made him yearn for the tranquillity and warmth of his village. As he walked through the familiar paths, greeting old friends and neighbours, he felt a sense of belonging he hadn’t experienced in the concrete jungle. The mango orchards, the sound of the temple bells, and the sight of women drawing water from the well brought back memories of his carefree childhood.One evening, as Pratim sat under the ancient banyan tree at the centre of the village, he noticed a group of villagers gathered around a stranger. The man, dressed in a crisp suit, seemed out of place in Sundarpur’s rustic setting. Pratim approached the crowd, curiosity piqued.”Who is he?” Pratim whispered to Sita, his childhood friend who stood nearby.”That’s Mr. Verma,” Sita replied, her voice tinged with concern. “He represents a big corporation that wants to build a manufacturing plant here.”Mr Verma, with his polished demeanour and persuasive speech, promised prosperity and jobs. “This development will bring Sundarpur into the modern era,” he declared. “We will build schools, and hospitals, and provide employment for everyone.”The villagers murmured among themselves, weighing the promise of economic growth against their way of life. Some, especially the younger ones, were excited about the prospects of new opportunities. Others, like the village elders, were wary of the changes this development might bring.Later that night, Pratim sat with his parents, discussing the day’s events. “What do you think, Baba?” he asked his father, one of the village elders.His father sighed, his weathered face reflecting years of wisdom. “Progress is necessary, Pratim, but it should not come at the cost of our heritage and environment. We must find a balance.”Pratim’s mother, a woman of few words, added, “Our ancestors have lived here for generations. We owe it to them to protect this land.”The next day, a village meeting was called. The air was thick with anticipation as the villagers gathered in the open field. Pratim decided to speak up. “Mr. Verma’s proposal sounds promising, but we must consider the impact on our environment and our way of life. We should not rush into this decision.”Sita, standing beside him, added passionately, “Our village is more than just land. It’s our home, our culture. We need to preserve it.”Mr. Verma, sensing the resistance, tried to assuage their fears. “We will take all necessary precautions to protect the environment. Our aim is to uplift Sundarpur, not destroy it.”Despite his reassurances, the village remained divided. Days turned into weeks, and the tension in Sundarpur grew. Construction began on the outskirts, and the first signs of environmental degradation started to appear. The once-clear river began to show signs of pollution, and the air was tinged with the smell of chemicals.One evening, as Pratim walked along the riverbank, he found Sita sitting alone, her face etched with worry. “We can’t let this continue,” she said, her voice trembling. “We have to do something.”Pratim nodded. “We need to present a sustainable alternative. One that balances progress with preservation.”Together, they approached the village council with a proposal for sustainable development. They suggested eco-friendly practices, renewable energy sources, and a community-driven approach to modernization. It was a daunting task, but they believed it was the best way forward.The council deliberated, and after much discussion, they agreed to present the proposal to Mr. Verma. The meeting was tense, with emotions running high. Pratim and Sita presented their case passionately, highlighting the long-term benefits of sustainable development.Mr. Verma listened intently. After a long silence, he spoke. “Your proposal is ambitious and idealistic. But it has merit. We are willing to consider it if the community supports it.”The villagers, seeing the sincerity and dedication of Pratim and Sita, rallied behind them. They organized community meetings, educating everyone about the benefits of sustainable development. Slowly, the tide began to turn.Months passed, and the once-divided village started to work together towards a common goal. The construction site was transformed, incorporating eco-friendly technologies and practices. The river, once polluted, began to heal, thanks to the efforts of the community.One evening, as the sun set over Sundarpur, the villagers gathered under the banyan tree to celebrate their success. Pratim and Sita stood together, looking out at the smiling faces of their friends and neighbours.”We did it,” Sita said, her eyes shining with pride.Pratim smiled. “Yes, we did. But this is just the beginning. We have to keep working to ensure that progress and preservation go hand in hand.”As the celebrations continued, the villagers of Sundarpur realized that true progress was not just about economic growth, but about maintaining a balance between development and tradition, between the future and the past. And in this balance, they found their strength and unity.The story of Sundarpur became an inspiration for other villages facing similar dilemmas, a testament to the power of community and the importance of preserving one’s heritage while embracing the future.Pratim’s return to Sundarpur was a journey not just of miles but of time. As the bus rattled along the dusty road, he gazed out at the fields of golden wheat swaying in the breeze. The sight was a balm to his city-weary eyes. The noise, the crowds, the relentless pace of Mumbai seemed a distant memory here.His arrival was met with joyous celebrations. The entire village had gathered to welcome him back. The children, who remembered him as the young boy who climbed trees and played in the fields, ran around him, giggling. The elders, proud of his achievements, blessed him. And then there was Sita, her eyes twinkling with the same mischief and warmth he remembered.”It’s good to have you back, Pratim,” she said, handing him a garland of marigolds.”It’s good to be back, Sita,” he replied, feeling a wave of nostalgia.As they walked through the village, Pratim noticed the subtle changes. Some new houses had sprung up, and the small marketplace seemed busier. But the essence of Sundarpur remained untouched. The temple still stood as a sentinel of faith, the banyan tree as a witness to countless stories, and the river as a lifeline, nourishing the fields and the people.That night, as he lay on the charpoy under the open sky, the cool breeze carrying the scent of jasmine, Pratim felt a profound sense of peace. The stars seemed brighter here, closer, as if he could reach out and touch them. He realized how much he had missed this simple, unhurried life.The next morning, the tranquillity was disrupted by the arrival of Mr Verma. His sleek car, an anomaly in the village, drew curious stares. Word spread quickly, and soon a crowd gathered around him.Mr. Verma’s proposal was grand. He spoke of factories and schools, hospitals and roads. “This project will bring prosperity to Sundarpur,” he declared with conviction. “Think of the jobs, the education, the healthcare. Your children won’t have to leave for the city; the city will come to them.”The younger villagers, captivated by the promise of modernity, were quick to support the idea. “We need this,” said Ravi, a young farmer. “Our crops alone can’t sustain us forever. We need jobs, education.”But the elders, with their years of wisdom, were more cautious. “Progress is good,” said Pratim’s father, “but at what cost? Our land, our water, our air—these are our lifelines. We cannot risk them.”Pratim watched the debate unfold with a heavy heart. He understood both sides. The allure of development, the need for progress, but also the importance of preserving what made Sundarpur special.That evening, as the villagers dispersed, Pratim and Sita sat by the river, the moonlight reflecting off its surface. “What do you think, Pratim?” Sita asked, her voice filled with concern.”I think we need to find a way to balance both,” he replied. “We can’t stop progress, but we can guide it. We need to make sure it benefits everyone without destroying what we have.”Days turned into weeks, and the village remained divided. Mr. Verma’s team began preliminary work on the outskirts, surveying the land and preparing for construction. The changes were subtle at first—a few trees cut down, some soil turned over. But soon, the river, the lifeblood of Sundarpur, began to show signs of stress. Its once-clear waters were now tinged with murky pollution.The villagers grew anxious. The younger ones, who had initially supported the project, began to have second thoughts. “Is this really worth it?” Ravi muttered one day as he watched the river’s flow slow to a trickle.Pratim and Sita knew they had to act. They organized a meeting with the village council and presented their plan for sustainable development. The council deliberated, and after much discussion, they agreed to present the proposal to Mr. Verma. The meeting was tense,
with emotions running high. Pratim and Sita presented their case passionately, highlighting the long-term benefits of sustainable development.Mr. Verma listened intently. After a long silence, he spoke. “Your proposal is ambitious and idealistic. But it has merit. We are willing to consider it if the community supports it.”The villagers, seeing the sincerity and dedication of Pratim and Sita, rallied behind them. They organized community meetings, educating everyone about the benefits of sustainable development. Slowly, the tide began to turn.Months passed, and the once-divided village started to work together towards a common goal. The construction site was transformed, incorporating eco-friendly technologies and practices. The river, once polluted, began to heal, thanks to the efforts of the community.One evening, as the sun set over Sundarpur, the villagers gathered under the banyan tree to celebrate their success. Pratim and Sita stood together, looking out at the smiling faces of their friends and neighbors.”We did it,” Sita said, her eyes shining with pride.Pratim smiled. “Yes, we did. But this is just the beginning. We have to keep working to ensure that progress and preservation go hand in hand.”As the celebrations continued, the villagers of Sundarpur realized that true progress was not just about economic growth, but about maintaining a balance between development and tradition, between the future and the past. And in this balance, they found their strength and unity.Pratim’s return to Sundarpur was a journey not just of miles but of time. As the bus rattled along the dusty road, he gazed out at the fields of golden wheat swaying in the breeze. The sight was a balm to his city-weary eyes. The noise, the crowds, the relentless pace of Mumbai seemed a distant memory here.His arrival was met with joyous celebrations. The entire village had gathered to welcome him back. The children, who remembered him as the young boy who climbed trees and played in the fields, ran around him, giggling. The elders, proud of his achievements, blessed him. And then there was Sita, her eyes twinkling with the same mischief and warmth he remembered.”It’s good to have you back, Pratim,” she said, handing him a garland of marigolds.”It’s good to be back, Sita,” he replied, feeling a wave of nostalgia.As they walked through the village, Pratim noticed the subtle changes. Some new houses had sprung up, and the small marketplace seemed busier. But the essence of Sundarpur remained untouched. The temple still stood as a sentinel of faith, the banyan tree as a witness to countless stories, and the river as a lifeline, nourishing the fields and the people.That night, as he lay on the charpoy under the open sky, the cool breeze carrying the scent of jasmine, Pratim felt a profound sense of peace. The stars seemed brighter here, closer, as if he could reach out and touch them. He realized how much he had missed this simple, unhurried life.The next morning, the tranquility was disrupted by the arrival of Mr. Verma. His sleek car, an anomaly in the village, drew curious stares. Word spread quickly, and soon a crowd gathered around him.Mr. Verma’s proposal was grand. He spoke of factories and schools, hospitals and roads. “This project will bring prosperity to Sundarpur,” he declared with conviction. “Think of the jobs, the education, the healthcare. Your children won’t have to leave for the city; the city will come to them.”The younger villagers, captivated by the promise of modernity, were quick to support the idea. “We need this,” said Ravi, a young farmer. “Our crops alone can’t sustain us forever. We need jobs, education.”But the elders, with their years of wisdom, were more cautious. “Progress is good,” said Pratim’s father, “but at what cost? Our land, our water, our air—these are our lifelines. We cannot risk them.”Pratim watched the debate unfold with a heavy heart. He understood both sides. The allure of development, the need for progress, but also the importance of preserving what made Sundarpur special.That evening, as the villagers dispersed, Pratim and Sita sat by the river, the moonlight reflecting off its surface. “What do you think, Pratim?” Sita asked, her voice filled with concern.”I think we need to find a way to balance both,” he replied. “We can’t stop progress, but we can guide it. We need to make sure it benefits everyone without destroying what we have.”Days turned into weeks, and the village remained divided. Mr. Verma’s team began preliminary work on the outskirts, surveying the land and preparing for construction. The changes were subtle at first—a few trees cut down, some soil turned over. But soon, the river, the lifeblood of Sundarpur, began to show signs of stress. Its once-clear waters were now tinged with murky pollution.The villagers grew anxious. The younger ones, who had initially supported the project, began to have second thoughts. “Is this really worth it?” Ravi muttered one day as he watched the river’s flow slow to a trickle
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
01/08/2024
Guwahati , Assam , INDIA
Mail ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
Instagram : @rajatchandrasarmah5
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