The Silent Symphony of Solitude( Part -III)

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Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5

The Echo of the Oak Tree

Back in Kaliya, the oak tree stood as it always had — steadfast and unyielding. Arun returned to his humble life, but he did so with a renewed sense of understanding. He no longer saw his village as a cage, nor did he view his dreams as something distant and unattainable. His journey had taught him that dreams did not need to be grand to be meaningful; they could be found in the simplest of moments.

As Arun resumed his life as a teacher, he began to see his role in the village in a new light. His students, many of whom came from humble backgrounds, were like him once — full of unspoken dreams and hopes. Arun took it upon himself to nurture those dreams, to show his students that greatness could be found in the everyday, in the quiet acts of courage and kindness that often went unnoticed.

The oak tree, once a silent witness to his doubts and fears, now stood as a symbol of his journey. It had seen him grow, just as it had seen generations of his ancestors. Under its branches, Arun found peace, knowing that his dreams were not confined to a city or a career, but lived in the heart of his village, in the lives of those he touched.

Arun’s story spread beyond the borders of Kaliya, inspiring others to reevaluate their own journeys. His tale became a reminder that dreams are not always about escaping the world we know, but about finding meaning in the lives we lead. And as the years passed, Arun continued to teach, not just history, but the lessons of life — the importance of family, of roots, and of the quiet symphony of solitude that each of us carries within.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati , Assam , India

27/12/2024

Gift of Christmas

Feliz Navidad

“Feliz Navidad,

próspero año y felicidad”

“Merry Christmas, prosperous year and happiness”

“I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my heart.”

Merry Christmas to all my friends and readers .Have a great time

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH

GUWAHATI, ASSAM , INDIA

24/12/24

The Silent Symphony of Solitude( Part -II)

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Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5

The Journey of a Lifetime

The journey from Kaliya to New Delhi was nothing short of transformative. Arun, who had never traveled beyond the region, was both excited and terrified as he boarded the train that would take him away from everything he had known. The vastness of the country seemed overwhelming to him, with its endless stretches of land and people of countless backgrounds. Arun was a simple man, used to the quiet, slow pace of his village, and now he was thrust into the bustling heart of India.

The train ride, though long and tiring, offered Arun a glimpse into a world he had only read about in books. He watched as the landscape changed from the lush hills of the Northeast to the vast plains of Uttar Pradesh. The faces of the people on the train were as diverse as the land itself — some were like him, simple and humble, while others were sophisticated, carrying the air of city life.

As the train approached the capital, Arun’s heart began to race. He had heard stories of New Delhi, of its grandeur and its chaos, but nothing had prepared him for the reality. The city was a labyrinth of noise, lights, and people, each one rushing to their own destination. Arun felt small and insignificant amidst the grandeur, but at the same time, he felt a strange sense of belonging. For the first time in his life, he was part of something bigger than himself.

The seminar was held at one of the most prestigious universities in India. Arun, wearing a simple kurta and jeans, felt out of place among the other scholars, who were dressed in expensive suits and spoke with an air of confidence he couldn’t quite match. But when it was his turn to present, something extraordinary happened. As he spoke about the ancient dynasty he had researched for years, his words seemed to flow with a clarity and passion that captured the audience’s attention. He spoke of kings and warriors, of the rise and fall of empires, and of the timeless lessons that history taught us.

The room was silent as he finished. There was no applause, but the looks of admiration in the eyes of the audience were enough. Arun had done it. He had stepped into the world he had always dreamed of, and he had made his mark.

But as the seminar ended and the attendees moved on to other discussions, Arun found himself alone in the corner of the room. For all the success he had achieved, there was still an emptiness inside him. The city, with all its grandeur, had failed to fill the void he had carried for so long. Arun’s dreams, once so vibrant and full of promise, now seemed distant and intangible. He had achieved what he set out to do, but at what cost?

The faces of his family back in Kaliya haunted him. His father’s frailty, his mother’s absence, and the promise he had made to stay with them weighed heavily on his heart. He had chased his dreams, but in doing so, he had left behind the very people who had shaped him. The city, with all its opportunities, could not erase the guilt he felt for abandoning his roots.

Arun spent the next few days in New Delhi in a state of confusion. He attended meetings, visited museums, and explored the city, but none of it brought him the peace he had hoped for. The dream of the grand city that had once seemed so alluring now felt hollow, like a distant echo of something he could never fully grasp.

It was during a late-night walk through the streets of Old Delhi that Arun’s perspective began to shift. As he wandered through the narrow alleys, the sounds of the city — the honking cars, the calls of vendors, the chatter of people — blended into a symphony of life. It was chaotic, but it was also beautiful. The city, with all its imperfections, was alive. And in that moment, Arun realized something important — his dreams were not confined to the city or the seminar. His dreams were in the stories of the people he met, in the history he taught, and in the simple acts of love and sacrifice that shaped his own life.

Arun returned to Kaliya with a new sense of purpose. He had seen the world beyond the hills, but he had also realized that his place was here, in the quiet corners of the village, where his history, his family, and his roots had formed him. The grand city of his dreams was no longer the goal; the journey itself had become the destination. Arun had found his peace, not in the cities or the accolades, but in the quiet symphony of life that unfolded with each passing day.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah 

Guwahati , Assam , India 

24/12/2024

After three round of elimination in the national competition ( pen to glory)on writing, selected as Runners up

The Silent Symphony of Solitude( Part -I)

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Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5

The Whisper of Dreams

In the sleepy town of Kaliya, nestled among the misty hills of the Northeast, lived a man whose life was as unassuming as the river that flowed through the valley. Arun Sharma, a 45-year-old school teacher, had lived in the shadow of the mountains his entire life. Every day, the same routine — waking up to the crowing of the rooster, sipping tea from his chipped ceramic cup, and walking the narrow, cobbled streets to the local school where he taught history.

Despite his monotonous life, Arun had a peculiar dream — one that had followed him since childhood. He dreamed of a grand, vibrant city, a world away from the quiet town of Kaliya, a city where stories of greatness were written not in books, but in the lives of ordinary people. It was a place where history was alive, and each person’s life intertwined with the tales of the past. But, despite his dream, Arun had never dared to leave Kaliya.

His family had lived here for generations, and the weight of tradition kept him rooted. He often found himself questioning why he never sought a life beyond the hills, why he never chased the ambitions that burned quietly in his chest. Was it because of the sacrifices his father had made, or the promises he had made to his late mother to never abandon the village?

Arun’s only companion in these reflections was the grand oak tree in the courtyard of his house. Every evening, after his work was done, he would sit beneath its sprawling branches, watching the sun dip behind the hills. The tree, with its massive trunk and countless leaves, seemed to whisper secrets of the world to him. Arun would often close his eyes, listening to these whispers, feeling the weight of his dreams and the warmth of memories.

The town of Kaliya was beautiful, but its simplicity had begun to feel like a cage to Arun. He was torn between his familial duties and his unfulfilled yearning for something more. Yet, he stayed, each day the same as the last, until a letter arrived that would change the course of his life forever.

It was an invitation to a prestigious seminar on history in New Delhi. The letter was from an esteemed university, offering Arun the chance to present a paper on an ancient dynasty he had spent years researching. This was the break he had been waiting for. It was the moment his dreams seemed to touch the ground.

But there was a problem. The village needed him, and his family depended on him. His elderly father, who had lived through a turbulent past, would be devastated if Arun left for the city. Arun had always been the pillar of strength for his father, who had lost everything in his youth, including his own dreams. Arun had promised never to leave, to always care for him in his old age. And yet, here was an opportunity that could propel him into a life he had long imagined.

His thoughts were a whirlwind, his heart torn. The invitation sat on the table, like a symbol of both hope and despair. Arun sat by the oak tree that evening, his mind racing. Would he follow his dreams and risk abandoning everything he had known? Or would he stay, sacrificing his own desires for the sake of others?

As the cool evening breeze swept through the valley, Arun made a decision. He would go. He would take the chance, not just for himself, but for all the unspoken dreams of his ancestors who had never had the opportunity to break free. It was time to step beyond the horizon and write a new chapter in his life.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam , India 

22/12/2024

The Last Monsoon( part -VI)

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INSTAGRAM : @rajatchandrasarmah5

As the final rains of the monsoon approached, Riya and Arun prepared for their first exhibition together—a showcase of Riya’s crafts and Arun’s art. They poured their hearts into the event, each piece telling a story of their journey.

On the day of the exhibition, the atmosphere was electric. Villagers gathered to admire their work, and the couple felt the excitement in the air. But Riya couldn’t shake the feeling of dread about her parents’ potential reactions.

As the evening wore on, her fears materialized. Her parents arrived, skepticism etched on their faces. “We just came to see what this is all about,” her father said, arms crossed as he surveyed the room.

Riya’s heart raced as she approached them. “I’m glad you came,” she said, forcing a smile. “Please, look around. Tell me what you think.”

They moved from one display to another, and Riya held her breath, waiting for their judgment. Arun joined them, explaining the inspiration behind his art. To Riya’s surprise, her father’s expression softened as he listened.

Finally, they reached a piece that depicted a stormy sky, vibrant colors swirling together. “This is beautiful,” her mother said, her voice filled with awe. “It feels alive.”

Riya’s heart fluttered with hope. “It represents the struggle we face—the chaos and beauty of our journey together,” she explained. “Just like the monsoon, it’s a part of life.”

Her father nodded slowly, the walls around him beginning to crumble. “You’ve both put a lot of effort into this. It’s commendable.”

As the night progressed, Riya and Arun felt the warmth of acceptance envelop them. Her parents engaged with other villagers, sharing stories and discussing their daughter’s talent. They began to see the passion behind their choices, realizing that happiness might not fit into the mold they had created.

As the final raindrops of the season fell, washing away the remnants of summer, Riya stood beside Arun, their hands intertwined. “We did it,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “They actually came around.”

“Together,” Arun replied, a smile lighting up his face. “We fought for our love, and it’s stronger than ever.”

As they watched the last of the monsoon clouds drift away, Riya knew that their journey was far from over. There would still be challenges ahead, but they had learned that love, when nurtured with understanding and resilience, could weather any storm.

With the promise of a new season on the horizon, Riya and Arun stood united, ready to embrace whatever came next.,(END)

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam , India

21/12/24

One more cap of encouragement

Leader Vs Manager

(C) All right reserved by the author

Slide -30

The Last Monsoon( part -V)

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INSTAGRAM : @rajatchandrasarmah5

Arun looked into her eyes, the storm beginning to calm as understanding washed over them. “I promise,” he replied, squeezing her hand tightly. “We’ll navigate this together, no matter how difficult it gets.”

With renewed determination, they decided to take on their families together. They would set boundaries and carve out their identities. The next day, they arranged a family meeting, inviting their parents to discuss their futures openly.

The rain continued to pour as they gathered, each family seated with expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism. Riya and Arun exchanged glances, steeling themselves for the conversation ahead.

“Thank you for coming,” Riya began, her heart pounding. “We’ve realized that we want to chart our own course, and we hope you can support us in this journey.”

Her father crossed his arms, the tension in the room palpable. “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice steady but guarded.

“We want to pursue our passions,” Arun interjected, his voice firm. “I want to teach art, and Riya wants to start her own business. We believe we can build fulfilling lives without adhering strictly to tradition.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Riya held her breath, searching her parents’ faces for any sign of acceptance. Her mother finally spoke, “But what about stability? What about marriage? You’re going against everything we envisioned for you.”

Riya felt a knot tighten in her stomach, but she pushed through. “I understand your concerns, but stability isn’t just about financial security. It’s about emotional fulfillment. We’re committed to each other, and we want to grow together.”

Arun nodded. “We hope you’ll give us a chance to prove that our choices are valid. We want your support, but we need to be true to ourselves first.”

Their parents exchanged glances, and Riya could see the conflict in their expressions. After a moment, her father sighed, his shoulders sagging. “This is not what we had planned for you, but if you believe this is what will make you happy, then we will try to understand. But understand this: the path you choose will be fraught with challenges.”

Riya felt a surge of relief but also knew the weight of his words. “We’ll take responsibility for our choices. We promise to keep you updated and involved.”

As the meeting concluded, Riya felt the storm within her settle. They were still uncertain about the future, but they had taken the first step toward independence. The rains continued to pour, but there was a newfound sense of hope in the air.

Over the following weeks, Riya and Arun worked tirelessly on their respective dreams. Riya began crafting beautiful, handmade items for her business, inspired by the nature surrounding her village. Arun started teaching art at the local school, igniting the passion within young hearts.

Their efforts bore fruit; Riya’s crafts gained popularity, and Arun’s students flourished under his guidance. They found joy in the small victories, each success fueling their love for each other and the life they were building together.

However, the shadow of familial expectations still loomed. As their achievements grew, so did the scrutiny from both families. “You should be focusing on marriage, not these frivolities,” Riya’s father warned one evening. Arun faced similar pressure at home, where his family questioned his decisions and his commitment to Riya.

One night, as they lay in bed, Riya turned to Arun, her heart heavy. “What if we’re fighting a losing battle?” she asked, fear creeping into her voice. “What if they never accept us?”

Arun wrapped his arms around her, anchoring her in his embrace. “We can’t give up. We’ve come too far to turn back now. We need to keep showing them that our love is worth fighting for.”

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam ,India

16/12/24