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Date : 27/04/2025

Not every knock
needs an answer.
Not every stranger
is a threat.

Some fears
wear the face
you see in the mirror
at 2:43 AM.

But there is a door
that opens inward,
and behind it—
a soft light
that remembers
what you were
before the storm.

Step in.
You still fit there.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA

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Date of Posting: Saturday, 26 April 2025

We look into mirrors and expect truth. But mirrors lie.

They don’t show the anxiety tucked behind a smile.
Or the exhaustion in someone who always looks “fine.”
They don’t reveal the nights spent thinking of a single sentence said five years ago.

They show symmetry. Skin. Reflection.
But not the inner war.

So don’t trust mirrors more than people.
And don’t judge someone by the face they wear today.

We all carry ghosts that don’t show up in glass.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA

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26/04/2025

She waited at the station every evening, wearing the same red saree.
Thirty years had passed since he’d promised to return.
The villagers called her mad, but she smiled through their whispers.
Each dusk, she fixed her hair and held a single marigold.
Trains came and went, none bringing him back.
One winter evening, a stranger approached with his eyes.
He held out a diary—weathered, like her hope.
“My father wrote about you on every page,” he said softly.
She held the diary to her chest, tears washing time.
Love had finally returned, not in flesh, but in words.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA

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25/04/2025

I folded the morning
into the back pocket
of yesterday.

The birds forgot to sing today—
or maybe I forgot
how to hear them.

Even my coffee
tasted like memory.
And the sugar
didn’t help.

They say grief
doesn’t knock
after its first visit.
But it has a key now—
and uses it
whenever the sun is too bright.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA

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Gentle breeze in lazy swing,
Sunlit laughter softly rings,
Time dissolves on golden wings.

Title: Lemonade Whispers

Cold glass hugs sunlit days,
Sugar songs in citrus haze,
Carefree sips chase worries away.

Title: Hammock Afternoon

Soft fabric cradles dreams,
Leafy lullabies and beams,
Mind drifts where nothing seems.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH

GUWAHATI , ASSAM , INDIA

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DATE: 24/04/2026

It was a woman on the bus who first taught me kindness.
I was crying—headphones on, world off. She didn’t ask questions. She just handed me a piece of chocolate.

Years later, I did the same for a boy outside a hospital.
He took it without looking at me.
But I know he’ll remember. Not my face. But the gesture.

Strangers carry pieces of us.
They step in when friends fail, when family falters.
They appear for one moment and then disappear.
But they restore faith—quietly, without asking for thanks.

So be kind. You never know who’s listening to sad songs on a crowded bus.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA

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24/04/2025

Arun woke up to the rhythm of rain tapping on the window—soft, playful, like nature’s alarm clock.

He opened the curtains. The world was washed clean—trees gleamed, the road smiled, and birds danced mid-drizzle.

In a moment of rebellion, he brewed chai, played an old RD Burman tune, and stood at the balcony sipping joy.

The office could wait five minutes. The world was performing. And he, for once, was its audience.

Smiling, he whispered, “This… is success.”

— Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India

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23/04/25

Sometimes, silence
is a better architect
than speech.

You built a bridge
from my glance
to your regret,
and I walked it
without shoes.

We’ve mastered
the art of unspoken pain—
your nod,
my shifted shoulder.

The things we don’t say
live longer
than anything
we dared to utter.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA

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Whispers in Rhyme – Limericks that Smile

Date of Posting: 23rd April 2025

Posted by: Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Location: Guwahati, Assam, India

1. The Moonlit Affair
A maiden once danced on the dune,
Her heart in a waltz with the moon.
She giggled with grace,
In night’s cool embrace,
And vanished before it was noon.

2. The Old Owl’s Advice
An old owl from banyan’s embrace,
Wore glasses that slipped from his face.
He hooted, “Be wise,
And see through the lies—
Life’s not always a merry race!”

3. The Painter’s Dream
A painter with brushes so bold,
Mixed sunshine with shimmer and gold.
He painted a breeze,
With magical ease,
And stories the silence had told.

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