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Date: 03/01/2026

I didn’t finish everything today.
Some messages stayed unanswered. A thought remained half-written. One plan quietly dissolved.
Earlier, that would have bothered me.
Tonight, it doesn’t.
Evenings have taught me that unfinished things are not failures.
They’re proof that the day was lived, not managed.
I once heard someone say, “If everything is done, you probably rushed.”
That stayed with me.
So I’m letting this evening be slightly incomplete.
The room is calm. The light is low. Tomorrow exists.
Not every loose end needs tying before sleep.
Some can wait on the table, patient, unjudging.
If your day feels the same, you’re not behind.
You’re simply still in motion.
That’s enough for tonight.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

All rights reserved by the author
Date: 03/01/2026

Socotra is an island in the Arabian Sea, part of Yemen, but it feels as if it belongs to another timeline altogether.
Trees here look unfamiliar—thick trunks, strange shapes, branches that seem undecided about direction.
The famous dragon blood tree grows like an umbrella turned upside down, existing nowhere else on Earth.

A local herder walks quietly across the rocky land, goats following without instruction.
Life here is sparse, not poor—measured, not rushed.
The people of Socotra are proud of how little the island has been altered.
Modern life arrived late and gently. Traditions stayed.
This is not a place shaped by convenience.
It is shaped by isolation, patience, and acceptance.
Socotra teaches a rare lesson:
That survival does not always mean adapting fast.
Sometimes it means refusing to change at all.
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

All rights reserved by the author
Date: 03/01/2026

There is a small moment before the day fully recognises you.
Before messages arrive. Before duties remember your name.
I like staying there for a while.
Not planning. Not reviewing. Just noticing—light through a window, a sound outside, the body waking at its own pace.
No urgency yet.
We rush too quickly into becoming useful.
As if worth begins only after movement.
Some mornings don’t want ambition.
They want honesty. They want you to admit how you actually feel before you pretend otherwise.
If today feels unclear, let it be.
Clarity is not a morning requirement.
Stand where you are for a minute.
The day will come to you soon enough.
You don’t need to chase it.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

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Date: 02/01/2026

This evening reminded me of a conversation I once had with a friend.
We spoke for almost an hour and said nothing important.
No problems solved. No wisdom exchanged.
Just small talk, pauses, laughter, silence.
At the time, it felt like a waste.
Later, it felt like rest.
Not every evening needs depth.
Some evenings just need another human voice floating around the room.
If today felt slow, unfinished, or slightly dull—that’s okay.
Life doesn’t move in highlights.
Sometimes the best evenings are the ones that don’t demand a takeaway.
They let you sit, listen, and drift a little before sleep.
Tomorrow can carry ambition.
Tonight can simply carry you to bed.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

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Date: 02/01/2026

Lalibela lies in the highlands of northern Ethiopia, far from oceans and modern hurry, known for something few places dare to attempt—churches carved downward into solid rock.
Here, faith did not rise upward toward the sky.
It went into the earth.

Eleven ancient churches sit below ground level, connected by narrow passages and shadowed courtyards. They were not assembled stone by stone, but cut patiently from a single mass of rock, centuries ago.
A barefoot priest moves slowly through one passage, holding a wooden cross polished by generations of hands.
This is not a museum moment. It is daily life.
Ethiopians are proud of Lalibela not because it impresses outsiders, but because it continues—quietly, stubbornly—unchanged by time.
Lalibela teaches something rare:
That belief, when sincere, does not need height.
It needs depth.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

All rights reserved by the author
Date: 02/01/2026

The second day of the year is quieter than the first.
The greetings slow down. The excitement settles. Real life gently returns to the room.
I like this day more.
Yesterday carries expectations. Today carries honesty.
You wake up and realise nothing magical has changed—but nothing has ended either.
Some plans will survive. Some won’t.
And that’s not failure; that’s sorting.
This morning doesn’t ask you to be better than yesterday.
It only asks you to be present enough to notice where you actually are.
If your mind feels ordinary today, let it.
Ordinary is where most meaningful things quietly begin.
There is a long year ahead.
Today is just about putting your feet on the ground and standing there without rush.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

All rights reserved by the author
Date: 01/01/2026

The lights are quieter tonight.
Leftover food sits in the fridge. Fireworks are already a memory.
This is my favourite part of any celebration—the day after.
When there’s no performance left to give.
I once asked a friend how he felt every New Year evening.
He said, “Relieved. The noise is over.”
I understood that much later.
Evenings like this don’t demand reflection or resolution.
They only ask you to sit down, loosen your shoulders, and breathe like no one is watching.
If today felt ordinary, that’s not a failure.
Ordinary days are where life actually stays.
So rest. Tomorrow will ask enough of you.
Tonight doesn’t need anything except your presence.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

All rights reserved by the author
Date: 01/01/2026

Saksun is a small village in the Faroe Islands, an island group in the North Atlantic Ocean, under Denmark, lying quietly between Norway and Iceland.
Here, silence is not emptiness.
It is presence.
Houses sit low against the wind, dark against the grass-covered hills, as if they have learned not to argue with weather.

Grass grows on rooftops—not for beauty, but because nature is allowed to stay close.
A lone farmer walks near the lagoon, checking sheep without urgency, counting them the way one counts familiar thoughts.
No hurry. No audience. Just habit shaped by wind and patience.
The people here are proud, not because the land is gentle, but because it endures.
Storms arrive often. Isolation is real. Still, life continues—quiet, steady, unadvertised.
Saksun teaches something rare:
A place does not need noise to feel deeply alive.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

Wishing everyone a very Happy New Year ✨
I hope this year meets you gently.

I woke up this morning to news that honestly left me a little stunned — my flash poetry “THE LAST DANCE” has been published in the international journal Flash Fiction, published from New Zealand, in their December 2025 issue. I had to read the message twice just to believe it.

I’m still new to this world of writing, still learning, still doubting, still trying. So this feels deeply special. What better way to begin a new year than with a quiet reminder that dreams — even the fragile ones — do find their way.

Feeling grateful. Feeling hopeful. Feeling encouraged to keep going.

Thank you to everyone who’s been cheering me on — means more than you know.

Rajat C SARMAH

01/01/2026

All rights reserved by the author
Date: 01/01/2026

The year didn’t knock. It didn’t ask if we were ready.
It simply walked in, like an old acquaintance who knows where the cups are kept.
Some of us woke up hopeful. Some woke up tired. Most woke up somewhere in between.
And that’s honest.
I don’t believe a new year fixes anything overnight.
But I do believe it gives us a quieter room to stand in, to look at ourselves without noise.
If yesterday was heavy, you don’t have to carry all of it today.
Put some of it down. Not forever. Just for now.
This morning isn’t about promises.
It’s about permission—to begin again, imperfectly, humanly, and still moving.
That is enough for a start.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile