Coming shortly to the market .
In the bustling city of Mumbai, where dreams intermingle with reality, Vikram Mehra, a 32-year-old successful architect, was contemplating his life. Despite the accolades and professional success, something felt amiss. The emptiness of his high-rise apartment mirrored his solitude. It was on one of those introspective evenings that his phone buzzed with a message from his childhood friend, Kavya.
“Vikram, we need to catch up. I have something important to share. Coffee at our usual spot?”
Vikram’s heart skipped a beat. Kavya and he shared a bond that went back to their school days. They had drifted apart due to the rigors of life but always found their way back to each other. Curiosity piqued, he replied.
“Sure, Kavya. Tomorrow evening?”
“Perfect. See you at 6.”
The next evening, Vikram walked into the quaint coffee shop that held so many memories. Kavya was already there, her eyes scanning the menu. Seeing her brought a wave of nostalgia. Her presence was like a comforting balm, a reminder of simpler times.
“Vikram! It’s been too long.”
“Too long indeed. You haven’t changed a bit.”
They exchanged pleasantries and settled into their conversation, the air filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
“So, how’s life treating you, Mr. Architect?”
“Life’s good, but there’s something missing. What about you? You said you had something important to share.”
Kavya hesitated for a moment before speaking.
“Vikram, do you remember Aisha?”
Aisha. The name brought back a flood of memories. Aisha was the love of his life during college. They had plans, dreams, and an unspoken promise to be together forever. But fate had other plans, and they had lost touch after college.
“Of course, I remember Aisha. Why do you ask?”
Kavya took a deep breath.
“She’s back in Mumbai. She’s… she’s going through a tough time. I thought you should know.”
Vikram’s mind raced. Aisha was back. The woman he had loved more than life itself. He felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. Kavya handed him a piece of paper with Aisha’s address.
“She needs a friend, Vikram. Someone she can trust.”
Vikram nodded, his mind already made up. He had to see Aisha. ( to be continued)
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
10/07/2024.Guwahati, Assam , India
rajatchandrasarmah@gmail .com
rajatchandrasarmah5
Their bond grew stronger as they both pursued engineering in their final year. They spent countless hours studying together in the library. “Do you think we’ll use all these learnings in real life?” Priya joked one day, looking exasperated by the thick textbooks before them. “Probably not,” Ashok replied, “but we must pass the exams first.” Their conversations flowed effortlessly, yet the barrier of unspoken feelings remained firmly in place.After graduation, Ashok and Priya joined the same professional college, much to their mutual delight. They often studied together and commuted back home during vacations, cherishing their time together. “Can you believe we’re doing this? It feels like just yesterday we were kids in school,” Priya remarked one day as they sat in the canteen, sipping chai. “Time flies, doesn’t it?” Ashok replied, his eyes reflecting his hidden feelings. Their families grew fond of each other, and frequent visits became routine. Priya’s parents admired Ashok’s integrity and saw him as a suitable match for their daughter. “Ashok is such a nice boy,” Priya’s mother once said. “Don’t you think he’d make a good match for you?” Priya blushed and shrugged. “We’re just friends, Mom,” she replied, though a part of her wished for more.Ashok, aware of his feelings but also Ravi’s continued interest in Priya, remained silent. “You’re quiet today, Ashok,” Priya observed during one of their study sessions. “Is something on your mind?” Ashok looked away, forcing a smile. “Just tired, I guess,” he replied, unable to voice the turmoil within him. The presence of Ravi’s unspoken love for Priya weighed heavily on Ashok, leading him to stifle his own emotions for the sake of friendship.As fate would have it, Ashok and Priya were posted in different cities after completing their studies. Their communication dwindled to occasional messages and holiday greetings. During this time, Priya met Arjun, a confident and charming colleague who admired her openly. “Priya, I like you,” Arjun confessed one day, his voice sincere. Priya, moved by his honesty and tired of waiting for Ashok’s unspoken confession, decided to give him a chance despite her lingering affection for Ashok.
When Ashok heard of Priya’s engagement to Arjun, his heart sank. “Congratulations, Priya,” he said with a forced smile when they met at a mutual friend’s wedding. “Arjun’s a lucky guy.” Priya, sensing the unsaid, looked into his eyes, hoping for a confession that never came. “Thank you, Ashok,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “I always thought…” she started, but then trailed off. “Thought what?” Ashok asked, a flicker of hope in his voice, but Priya just shook her head, smiling sadly. “Nothing. It’s nothing,” she replied, her voice tinged with resignation.As her wedding approached, Priya accepted that some stories remain incomplete. She decided to embrace her future with Arjun, who dared to express his feelings. Ashok attended her wedding, hiding his pain behind a smile. “You look beautiful, Priya,” he said, handing her a gift. “I hope you’ll be very happy.” Priya hugged him tightly, whispering, “Thank you, Ashok. You’ve always been a good friend.” As she pulled away, she noticed a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but neither spoke of it.Years later, Ashok and Priya met again at a mutual friend’s gathering, this time as friends who had traversed the complexities of life. Ashok, now a successful engineer with his firm, visited Priya and her family in their new home. “It’s good to see you, Ashok,” Priya greeted him warmly, offering him a cup of tea. “How have you been?” Ashok smiled, “Busy with work. And you? How’s married life?” Priya’s eyes sparkled as she spoke of Arjun and their life together. “It’s good. We’re happy. And you? Any special someone?” Ashok shook his head, smiling wistfully. “Not yet. I guess, I always miss the right moment.”They reminisced about old times, their conversations filled with laughter and nostalgia. “Remember our study sessions?” Priya asked, her eyes twinkling. “How could I forget? We were quite the team,” Ashok replied. Both maintained the façade of friendship, each hiding the depth of their true feelings. During a quiet moment, Priya asked, “Ashok, did you ever wonder what might have been if things had been different?” Ashok looked at her, a gentle sadness in his eyes. “Sometimes, Priya. But life has a way of leading us where we’re meant to be. I’m glad we had our journey, even if it took a different path.”They parted with a lingering embrace, the weight of their unspoken love finally acknowledged in the silence between them. As Ashok walked away, he felt a bittersweet contentment, knowing that some love stories, though unfulfilled, remain etched in the heart forever. Priya, watching him leave, felt a tear escape but also a sense of peace. They had lived their story, one marked by silent devotion and the quiet understanding that some connections transcend the need for words. They both accepted that their lives had taken separate paths. Ashok immersed himself in his work, finding solace in the success he built. Priya, now a devoted wife and mother, found happiness in her family, cherishing the memories of a love that never needed words to be felt. They continued to meet occasionally, their conversations tinged with a mix of nostalgia and unspoken truths, each silently grateful for the bond they had shared and the lives they had built.
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
09/07/2024
GUWAHATI , ASSAM ,INDIAMail ID : rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
In the small town of Milonpur, Ashok and Priya shared a connection neither could articulate. As classmates in primary school, they felt an unspoken bond that grew with each passing day. Ashok, with his quiet demeanour, often found solace in Priya’s radiant smile. Though they sensed a special warmth between them, their young hearts never understood the beauty of their relations and found themselves enjoying each other’s company. Their age did not make it possible to understand that there is an undercurrent of infatuations having the possibility of converging to love one day. Courage to transform their silent understanding into words that did not even come to their mind.
During recess, Ashok would often offer his sandwich to Priya. “Here, Priya, try this,” he’d say, shyly pushing the sandwich towards her.
Priya’s eyes would light up as she replied, “Only if you try my aloo paratha.”
Their exchanges, filled with innocent smiles and shared snacks, spoke volumes about their unexpressed feelings. Priya would often catch Ashok staring at her during class, only for him to quickly look away, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and affection. Life took its natural course, and Ashok went to an all-boys high school while Priya attended a girls’ school. Their meetings dwindled to occasional encounters at local festivals or neighbourhood events. Each time, their conversations were filled with lingering looks and unspoken words. “How’s school, Ashok?” Priya would ask, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and longing. “It’s fine, just busy with studies,” Ashok would reply, trying to sound nonchalant while his heart raced at seeing her. In high school, Ashok found a close friend in Ravi, a cheerful boy who shared his love for cricket. Unbeknownst to Ashok, Ravi had also met Priya at a local Durga Puja celebration and developed feelings for her. “Priya seems nice,” Ravi mentioned casually one day. “Do you know her well?” Ashok’s heart sank but he forced a smile. “Yes, she’s a good friend from school,” he replied, a sense of unease settling in his chest. Ravi’s continued interest in Priya complicated Ashok’s emotions, leading him to suppress his feelings to preserve their friendship. Years later, destiny brought Ashok and Priya together at St. Joseph’s College.
Their first meeting on campus was both surprising and heartwarming. “Priya! Is that you?” Ashok exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight. Priya, equally surprised, responded, “Ashok, I can’t believe we’re in the same college! It’s like fate.” They often met at the college canteen, exchanging stories and laughter. “Remember how we used to share snacks during recess?” Priya giggled. “Of course! Your aloo paratha was the best,” Ashok replied with a grin. Despite their growing camaraderie, they continued to avoid deeper emotions, keeping their interactions light and filled with friendly banter. ( TO BE CONTINUED)
Rajat Chandra Sarmah, 08/07/2024
Guwahati , Assam , India
Email ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
Instagram : rajatchandrasarmah5
The cover of my forthcoming book
BEHIND THE HEADLINES
My Belated Foray into the Literary World
People frequently inquire why I embarked on a writing journey so late in life, crossing the threshold into senior citizenship. This question often leads me to reflect on my past. Literature was my Achilles’ heel during my school years, an ironic twist given my later passion for the written word. While I excelled in other subjects, my literary endeavours were met with harsh criticism from teachers and earnest concern from my family, especially my sisters, who endeavoured tirelessly to nurture my literary skills. One particularly vivid memory stands out: our literature teacher, a figure of both dread and admiration, assigned us an essay—its topic now lost to time. After submitting my piece, he asked, “Why did you write a shopping list? I asked for an essay!” The classroom’s laughter was a poignant reminder of my struggles. Despite these challenges, I managed to scrape through high school with a modest 45 marks out of 100 in literature—a few more could have secured me a state rank and that day planted a seed of resolve within me—a promise to myself that I would one day prove my worth in the realm of literature. However, my academic path in engineering and subsequent career as a project engineer diverted my focus, relegating my literary aspirations to the periphery of my life. The most I could manage were occasional letters to newspaper editors and cryptic notes scribbled on cigarette packets. Life has a way of steering us back to our true passions, often through unforeseen circumstances. In the twilight of my career, a severe heart attack and the subsequent ordeal of major surgery brought me face-to-face with my mortality. During those vulnerable moments in the ICU, I resolved that if I emerged from the ordeal, I would honour my long-standing promise to myself. This epiphany marked the true beginning of my writing journey. Post-retirement, I faced another significant decision: whether to return to my ancestral home or remain in the city of Guwahati, where advanced medical facilities could better support my health. With a heavy heart, I acquiesced to stay in the city. But this change of scenery became a catalyst for my writing. Without delay, I embarked on my first book, an autobiography entitled A Sanguine Tale Unfolding the Life of a Project Engineer. This work delved into my experiences in the remote, pristine yet isolated regions of Northeast India. These areas, while breathtakingly beautiful, lacked modern conveniences—communication, healthcare, and educational facilities. The narrative, crafted in simple language and devoid of technical jargon, focused on the human spirit and the ingenuity required to overcome the formidable challenges of working in such an environment to make hydro Power Stations in those places. The book resonated deeply with readers, garnering the Golden Book Award 2024 and the Emerging Writer of the Year accolade at the Kolkata Literary Carnival 2024 and also translated into French, Spanish and Chinese languages. Buoyed by the success of my debut, I ventured into my second book, A New Dawn Adventure in the Golden Years, which swiftly became an Amazon bestseller. My third offering, a collection of short stories titled Whispers of the Diverse Tale, is now accessible online. Although logistical and financial constraints prevent my books from gracing physical store shelves, they are available to a global audience through Amazon and Flipkart. Currently, my first novel, Behind the Headlines—a gripping tale of investigative journalism—and my inaugural poetry collection, Symphony of Life, are in the press. Additionally, I contribute to various anthologies and maintain a blog at musingofrajat.wordpress.com, where I share musings and literary reflections. In essence, my decision to write stems not from a delayed ambition but from a deep-seated determination to fulfil a long-standing promise to myself. This journey underscores the timeless adage that age is merely a number. In fact, the maturity and wisdom acquired over the years have enriched my writing, enabling me to communicate with greater depth and empathy. My evolution from a struggling schoolboy to a winner of the International Tagore Award 24 by DRDC stands as a testament to the belief that it is never too late to pursue one’s true calling and leave a lasting legacy in the literary world.
Name of Published book
1. A SANGUINE TALE UNFOLDING THE LIFE OF A PROJECT ENGINEER ( English)
ISBN 979-8-88704-866-6
Book Amazon link :https://amzn.in/d/02xkVwdV
Award :
a. Emerging writer of the year (Non-Fiction) at Kolkotta Literary Carnival 2024.
b.Golden Book Award 2024
2. CHINESE VERSION ISBN: 978939201382
Book Link: https://amzn.eu/d/eSp7r1m
3. FRENCH VERSION ( A la vie d’un ingenieur CONTE de projet SANGLANT ISBN:9789359208657
Book Link: https://a.co/d/0iPjo381
4. SPANISH VERSION (UN desarrollo de la vida de un ingeniero CUENTO de proyectos SANGRIENTO
ISBN :9789359202426
Book Link :https://amzn.in/d/08a9mmXL
5. A NEW DAWN ADVENTURE IN THE GOLDEN YEARS
AMAZON BEST SELLER NUMBER #1
ISBN:978-93-5847-577-7
Book Link : https://amzn.in/d/0bdbOXNi
6. WHISPER OF THE DIVERSE TALES ( A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES)
ISBN: 97893626697486
Book Link : https://amzn.in/d/09vvPKso
7. CO-AUTHOR – THOSE BROKEN WHISPERS VOLUME -I
ISBN:9789360498528
Book Link: https://amzn.in/d/03eriz4d
AWARDS: International Tagore award in the specialist genre of Literature by DRDC 2024
BOOK UNDER PUBLICATION ( ANNOUNCEMENT)
CONTACT DETAILS
https://www.linkedin.com/in/rajat-chandra-sarmah-76732595
https://www.instagram.com/rajatchandrasarmah5?igsh=MWVvejY5ZjdhdDFqeQ==
D)Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@rajatchandrasarmah
E) Blog : musingofrajat.wordpress.com
F) Email ID : rajat chandrasarmah@gmail.com
The Melody of Love
“I thought I’d lost you forever,” Ramesh whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.
“I was always here, in your heart,” Rhea replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “And in mine, you were always home.”
As they performed together, their love became contagious. The crowd was mesmerized, tears streaming down their faces. Strangers became friends, united by the power of love and melody.
But fate had one more twist in store. Rhea’s family, who had never approved of their relationship, tried to tear them apart once again. They threatened to disown Rhea if she continued to see Ramesh.
Rhea was torn between her love for Ramesh and her family’s expectations. Ramesh, sensing her distress, took her hand and led her to the stage.
“We’ll face this together,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “Our love is stronger than any obstacle.”
Together, they sang a duet that shook the very foundations of the festival. Their voices soared, their love shining brighter than any star. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Rhea’s family, moved by the power of their love, finally accepted Ramesh as one of their own.
Ramesh and Rhea’s melody of love continues to echo through the streets of New York and Mumbai, a testament to the power of love and music to bring people together.( End)
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
4/7/24
GUWAHATI, ASSAM , INDIA
Email ID : rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
Instagram : rajatchandrasarmah5
Ramesh, a 25-year-old musician from New york City, had always been drawn to the sounds of the world. But little did he know, his life was about to take a dramatic turn.
One day, while exploring a vintage shop, Ramesh stumbled upon an old guitar that seemed to call his name. As soon as he strummed its strings, he was transported to the vibrant streets of Mumbai, India. The sights, sounds, and aromas overwhelmed him, but one voice stood out above the rest – a voice that would change his life forever.
Rhea Sharma, a 22-year-old singer from Mumbai, had a voice that could move mountains. Her enchanting tones echoed through the streets, captivating Ramesh’s heart. He followed the sound, his feet moving to the rhythm of her music. When their eyes met, the world around them melted away.
“Who are you?” Ramesh asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I am Rhea,” she replied, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. “And you, my friend, are a long way from home.”
As they explored the city together, their connection grew stronger. But fate had other plans. Ramesh’s visa expired, and he was forced to return to New York, leaving Rhea behind.
The distance was crippling. They tried to make it work, but the time difference and physical separation took its toll. Ramesh’s music became his only solace, while Rhea’s voice echoed through the streets of Mumbai, a bittersweet reminder of their love.
Years went by, and Ramesh became a successful music producer, working with artists from around the world. But Rhea’s voice remained etched in his mind, a constant reminder of what could have been.
One day, Ramesh received an invitation to perform at a music festival in Mumbai. He knew it was his chance to reunite with Rhea, to rekindle the flame that had once burned so brightly.
As he stepped onto the festival stage, the crowd erupted in cheers. Ramesh’s eyes scanned the sea of faces, searching for the one that had haunted him for so long. And then, he saw her – Rhea, standing in the front row, her eyes shining with tears.
Their reunion was a whirlwind of emotions. They embraced, their hearts racing with excitement and nervousness. The years melted away, and they found themselves lost in each other’s eyes once again.( To be continued)
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
02/07/2024
GUWAHATI , ASSAM , INDIA
Email ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
Instagram : rajatchandrasarmah5
As time went on, their business continued to thrive. The feature on the food blog brought a steady stream of new customers, and soon their chaat cart became a popular fixture in Raj Bazaar. But with success came new challenges. One evening, a local official approached their cart, demanding a bribe to allow them to keep their prime spot in the market. Ramesh, with his characteristic humour, tried to negotiate. “Sir, we’re just humble chaat vendors. How about a lifetime supply of gol-gappas instead of cash?” The official was not amused. “I need money, not snacks,” he replied sternly.
Sunita, ever practical, intervened. “We can’t afford a bribe, but we can keep the area around our cart clean and tidy. Would that be acceptable?” The official considered this offer. “Fine. Keep it clean, and I won’t bother you.” Ramesh breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close. You saved us again, Sunita.” “We’re a team, Ramesh. We’ll keep fighting, no matter what,” Sunita replied, squeezing his hand.
Their perseverance paid off, and they eventually saved enough money to rent a small shop at the edge of Raj Bazaar. The grand opening was a simple affair, with garlands of marigolds and the ever-present twinkling lights adorning their new space. “Welcome to ‘Ramesh and Sunita’s Chaat House’,” Ramesh announced proudly to their first customer. Sunita added with a smile, “Home of the best-flavoured pani puri in town!” Their new venture brought a mix of old and new challenges, but through it all, their love and humour remained their greatest strengths. They faced each day with the same determination and warmth that had carried them through their toughest times.
Years later, Ramesh and Sunita’s Chaat House became a beloved landmark in Raj Bazaar. Their children, having grown up in the chaat business, helped run the shop, bringing fresh ideas while preserving their parents’ legacy. On warm evenings, Ramesh and Sunita would sit outside the shop, watching the world go by. Their faces bore the marks of time, but their eyes still sparkled with the same love and humour that had seen them through so many years. “Do you remember our first cart?” Ramesh would often ask, his voice tinged with nostalgia. Sunita would laugh, her eyes crinkling with fond memories. “How could I forget? It was our first step towards this.”
They had built something beautiful from their humble beginnings, and their story became an inspiration for many. Through laughter, love, and the irresistible allure of chaat, Ramesh and Sunita proved that with determination and a touch of spice, anything is possible. (END)
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM , INDIA
01/07/2024
INSTAGRAM : rajatchandrasarmah5
EMAIL ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
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