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Date: 14 May 2025

There is something haunting about an empty chair. Especially when it once held someone whose presence filled the entire room. It’s not about the furniture. It’s about the void it echoes.

I remember my father’s chair—brown, weathered, with his shape almost molded into the cushions. It creaked under his weight, just like the world creaked under his quiet strength. After he left, we never moved it. The chair remained. It was not just his seat; it became our memory keeper.

We all have that one absence that weighs more than any presence. The one that walks with us in silent rooms and sits beside us during long meals. It could be a person, a friendship, a phase of life, or even a version of ourselves we left behind. Their memory is not always sad—sometimes it comforts, like an old melody we forgot we loved.

It’s okay to acknowledge that emptiness. It’s okay to touch the back of the chair and remember. The pain doesn’t dishonor the love—it amplifies it. If you still feel that weight, it only means what once existed was truly valuable.

So today, if you walk past an empty chair, pause for a moment. It might just be carrying a story the world still needs to hear.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam, India

You may follow me on 

Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5

Website: @conversewithasmile

Mail ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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Date: 13 May 2025

There’s a kind of goodbye that never makes it to the lips. It lingers in pauses, in held-back tears, in the silence that stretches between two people who once spoke freely. These goodbyes are the hardest—they’re unwritten, unspoken, yet painfully real.

I once saw two friends meet after years. Their eyes carried more words than their mouths ever dared to speak. They smiled politely, exchanged a few generic phrases, and parted. But the real conversation was in what remained unsaid. Regret, forgiveness, longing—it all hung heavy in the air, a presence between them.

Life doesn’t always give us the perfect send-off. Sometimes people leave without slamming doors. Sometimes you drift from someone you loved without knowing the exact day it happened. And sometimes, you say goodbye to a version of yourself that no longer fits the person you’re becoming.

We crave closure like we crave certainty. But often, healing begins when we stop demanding neat endings and start embracing the truth that some chapters close without punctuation.

So if there’s someone or something you never got to say goodbye to, write them a letter in your heart. Then let it float away. That’s how peace begins.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam, India

You may follow me on 

Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5

Website: @conversewithasmile

Mail ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

All rights reserved by the author

Date: 12 May 2025

There’s a kind of rain that never hits the rooftop. It falls somewhere else—on forgotten places, on parched lands waiting in silence, on people who no longer look up. And sometimes, that rain is not water. It’s grace. It’s kindness. It’s a second chance.

I once watched a boy chase a balloon that flew away in the wind. He didn’t cry. He smiled at it as it floated far beyond his reach. That day, I learned that not every loss needs mourning. Some are gentle teachers. Some are invisible rain.

There are moments in our lives when things don’t fall into place the way we hoped. The dream job goes to someone else. The apology doesn’t arrive. The person you waited for forgets the promise. These are the rains that miss the roof. But maybe they fall somewhere else where they’re more needed. Maybe what misses us is meant to bless another ground.

It takes wisdom to know that not every delay is denial. Not every absence is emptiness. And not every missed moment is a mistake. Sometimes, the universe knows how to water our souls without soaking our plans.

So if today feels like the sky held back what you hoped it would give, trust that another form of rain is on its way.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam, India

You may follow me on

Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5

Website: @conversewithasmile

Mail ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

All rights reserved by the author

Date: 11 May 2025

Sometimes life feels like a maze, full of routines, tasks, and memories that crowd every corner. We wake up and trace the same old paths, waiting for something fresh to break the monotony. But within that routine, somewhere between habit and hesitation, there lies a door—a quiet, forgotten opening we never noticed before.

This door is not carved in wood or bordered with light. It doesn’t creak or gleam or demand our attention. It could be a pause before reacting. A glance at the sky after a storm. A deep breath before you decide to forgive. It could be an old notebook, a dusty guitar, or a name you’ve almost erased from memory. It could be a whisper saying, “Try again.”

Once, I found my door in a letter I never sent. It was meant to be an apology, but it turned into a rediscovery of self. Just writing it made something inside me breathe again. I never posted it. I didn’t need to. The door had already opened.

We often think transformation requires thunder and lightning. But more often, it comes in hushed footsteps, in a word softly spoken, or a moment finally acknowledged.

What part of you is waiting to be found behind the door you never noticed?

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam, India

Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5

Website: @conversewithasmile

Mail ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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Date: 10 May 2025

There are days when we stand before the mirror, not to fix our hair or admire our outfit, but to ask questions—silent, aching ones. “Am I enough?” “Have I done well?” “Why do I feel so tired even when I’ve done nothing wrong?”

We wear masks all day—smiling at strangers, showing strength at work, pretending we’re okay at home. But the mirror… it sees through. It doesn’t blink when our eyes well up, nor does it interrupt when we whisper our truth.

The beauty is not in the reflection—it’s in the resilience. The face staring back may be tired, but it’s also seasoned with experience, courage, and stories only the soul knows.

Next time the mirror speaks, don’t look away. It may just be the most honest conversation you’ll have all day.

Have you spoken to your reflection lately? What did it say?

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam, India

You may follow me on

Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5

Website: @conversewithasmile

Mail ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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Date:09/05/2025

There is a silent thread that runs between hearts—across continents, across languages, even across generations. It is invisible, yet undeniable. You read a story set in New York or a poem composed under the night sky in Assam, and something in it grips you—your throat tightens, or a smile flickers. Why? What is this alchemy of connection?

I have asked myself this many times, especially recently, as my blog numbers began to shrink. I wondered—was I writing less truthfully? Was the rhythm broken? And in this reflection, I found something worth sharing: the stories that stay are not necessarily the cleverest, nor the most dramatic—they are the most human.

The Geography of Emotion Is Borderless

I remember a reader from Sweden once messaged me after reading a story of mine about a father silently fixing a broken fan during a stormy night. “It reminded me of my grandfather,” she wrote. “We never spoke much, but he kept me warm in winters.”

That’s when I realized: the setting might be local, but the emotion is global.

A girl in Mumbai aching over her first heartbreak and a boy in Ohio whispering goodbye to his dying dog—both feel the same hollow ache. Our lives differ, but our inner landscapes often overlap.

Why We Read Stories at All

We don’t read stories to be informed—we read them to be seen, to remember that we are not alone in this world of silent battles. A good story gives words to your inarticulate pain or your fleeting joy. It says, “You’re not weird for feeling this.” That’s powerful.

So when someone in London connects with a poem I wrote about rain in Assam, it’s not geography—it’s memory. Rain smells the same when it taps your window during longing. It washes cities and hearts alike.

What I Forgot (and You Might Too)

Somewhere in my recent blogging, I feared being irrelevant. I rushed posts, made them shorter, optimized them for speed. But stories are not fast food. They are slow-cooked meals, rich in meaning, sometimes needing quiet time to digest.

And so today, I promise to return to the core. To write stories and verses that are honest, aching, maybe flawed—but alive. That’s how the unseen thread stays unbroken.

Let’s Weave Together Again

If you’re reading this from any corner of the world, and something in this post nudged your heart—leave a comment, or send me a note. Tell me about the story that changed you. Tell me what you want to read again.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India

You may follow me on:
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
Website: @conversewithasmile
Mail ID: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR DATE: May 7 2025 

We swipe more than we speak, 

We scroll through life, week by week.

Eyes on screens, not in the eyes,

 Losing touch as connection dies.

Let’s reclaim the art of talk,

 Of books, of silence, mindful walks. 

For in the pause lies deeper truth,

 Instagram: rajatchandrasarmah5

 Not in trending memes of youth.

RAJATCHANDRA SARMAH 

GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA 

YOU CAN FOLLOW ME 

 website: rajatchandrasarmah.com 

youtube: @conversewithasmile

TALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR DATE May 8 ,2025 

Today you woke up. Your lungs expanded. Your eyes opened. That’s a miracle. The rest is detail.

Take a deep breath, say thank you, And let the day surprise you gently.

RAJATCHANDRA SARMAH 

GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA 

YOU CAN FOLLOW ME ON

 Instagram: rajatchandrasarmah5 

website: rajatchandrasarmah.com 

youtube: @conversewithasmile

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR DATE : May 7

You can be surrounded and still alone. In malls, offices, or social media zones.

Modern loneliness is silent and sleek, It hides behind likes, emojis, and streaks.

 YOU CAN FOLLOW ME ON 

Let’s connect beyond the screen, Ask someone how they’ve really been. Be the voice that breaks the wall— Sometimes, that’s the greatest call.

RAJATCHANDRA SARMAH 

GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA

Instagram: rajatchandrasarmah5

 website: rajatchandrasarmah.com 

youtube: @conversewithasmile