1 June 2026

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“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” — Buddha

While cleaning an old cupboard, Arun found a letter he had written thirty years earlier.

It was addressed to a friend with whom he had argued over something neither of them could remember today.

Back then, pride had prevented him from posting it. The envelope remained sealed, gathering dust while decades quietly passed.

Arun sat near the window and read the letter.

The anger sounded unfamiliar. The certainty felt strange. Time had softened what once appeared impossible to forgive.

He smiled at his younger self.

The friend had moved away years ago. They had met only once since then, exchanging polite conversation and a handshake.

Arun folded the letter carefully and placed it back in the envelope.

Some victories are not won by proving we were right.

They arrive when we realise the argument was smaller than the friendship.

Outside, children were returning from school, laughing about things they would probably forget tomorrow.

Arun wished he had learned that lesson much earlier.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati, Assam, India

Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com YouTube: Converse With A Smile

31 May 2026
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Every morning, a small bird landed on the same window ledge.
Nobody knew where it spent the rest of the day. It arrived, looked around for a few moments, and then disappeared into the distance.
The next morning, it returned.
Then again the following day.
Weeks passed. The pattern remained unchanged.
One day, the window stayed closed. Another day, it remained open. Sometimes there were people inside, sometimes there were none.
The bird seemed unconcerned by these details.
It was not visiting the window because of what happened there.
It was returning because the place had become familiar.
Human beings often do the same.
We revisit old streets, favourite chairs, childhood schools and familiar conversations. Not because they are perfect, but because they contain a small part of our story.
The bird never explained its loyalty to the ledge.
Perhaps it understood something simple.
Not every journey is about discovering somewhere new.
Sometimes it is about remembering where we belong.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

31 May 2026
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Years ago, while visiting Bali, I spent an evening near Uluwatu Temple.
The sun was slowly descending toward the sea. Tourists from many countries had gathered to watch a performance based on the Ramayana. The ocean below belonged to Indonesia. The story had originated in India. The audience came from different corners of the world.
For a while, geography seemed unimportant.
I later wondered how many ships, traders, travellers, teachers and storytellers had crossed these waters centuries ago. Their names are mostly forgotten. Their journeys were never recorded in detail.
Yet the stories survived.
Kingdoms that once controlled sea routes have disappeared. Ports that were once busy have fallen silent. Even great powers eventually become chapters in history books.
But stories continue to travel.
Perhaps that is their greatest strength.
They ask for no passport, require no army and recognise no border. They simply move from one generation to another, carrying pieces of human experience across time and distance.
Sometimes, the most enduring monuments are not built of stone.
They are built of memory.

#heritage #Indonesia #Bali #culture #history #memory #RajatChandraSarmah

— Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

31 May 2026
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Almost every home has one.
A drawer that nobody opens unless they are looking for something specific.
Inside are old keys that fit no known lock, expired cards, faded receipts, forgotten photographs, instruction manuals for machines long gone, and small objects whose purpose has been lost to time.
Most of it appears worthless.
Yet every now and then, someone opens the drawer and pauses.
A photograph brings back a face. A ticket recalls a journey. A note in familiar handwriting suddenly shortens the distance between yesterday and today.
Perhaps the value of such things was never practical.
They were quietly collecting memories while nobody was paying attention.
Life often works the same way.
Many moments seem ordinary when they happen. Only later do we realize they were storing meaning for the future.
Not everything important announces itself when it arrives.
Some things wait patiently in the drawer.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

30 May 2026
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Every evening, a dog walked along the same road.
No leash. No owner in sight.
The route never changed.
Past the grocery shop. Across the small bridge. Around the corner where children often played. Then back again.
People assumed it had somewhere important to be.
One day, a shopkeeper decided to follow it.
The dog reached the bridge, stood there quietly for a few minutes, watched the water below, and then returned home.
That was all.
There was no destination.
Only a journey repeated so often that it had become part of the dog’s life.
Humans sometimes do the same.
We return to familiar places not because something awaits us there, but because those places have become part of who we are.
The dog never explained its evening walk.
Perhaps some routines do not require explanation.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

30 May 2026
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In many old villages around the world, there is still a clock that few people consciously notice.
It may stand on a church tower in Europe, above a market square in Africa, or beside a community hall in a distant town.
People no longer depend on it. Phones have taken over that responsibility.
Yet the clock remains.
Its hands continue their journey through the hours, marking celebrations, departures, harvests, storms, and quiet afternoons.
Perhaps its purpose has changed.
It no longer tells people the time.
Instead, it reminds them that time has been passing through that place long before they arrived and will continue long after they leave.
There is a certain comfort in that thought.
Not everything has to remain useful to remain meaningful.

#heritage #villages #culture #history #memory #RajatChandraSarmah

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

30 May 2026
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In a small town, there was a wooden bench beneath an old tree.

Nothing remarkable ever happened there.

No famous speeches were delivered. No important decisions were recorded. No tourist ever photographed it.

Yet every day, people came.

An elderly man rested there after his morning walk. A schoolboy tied his shoelaces before class. A woman carrying groceries paused for a few minutes on her way home.

The bench never asked who they were.

It simply offered a place to stop.

In a world that celebrates movement, perhaps we underestimate the value of things that allow us to pause.

Not every contribution changes history.

Some contributions make ordinary days a little easier.

And perhaps that is enough

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India

Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

29 May 2026
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The cat did not belong to anyone in particular.
It appeared every evening near the edge of a quiet lane, sitting at almost the same place, as if the world had agreed on a small routine without signing anything.
No one remembered when it first arrived.
It never asked for attention in the way living beings sometimes do when they are unsure of their place. It simply observed — the movement of shadows, the sound of footsteps, the fading light across broken walls.
Sometimes people paused. Sometimes they did not.
The cat remained unchanged either way.
There is something unsettling and peaceful about such consistency. It does not depend on recognition. It does not adjust itself to response.
It simply exists, as if presence itself is enough.
And watching it, one begins to wonder how much of human waiting is actually expectation, and how much could simply be presence without demand.
The cat never answered that question.
It only blinked slowly, as evening became night.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

29 May 2026
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There are roads that do not seem to forget anyone who has passed through them, even if they never speak of it.
A bend in the village path, a narrow bridge over a quiet stream, a stretch of dust between two trees — nothing remarkable at first glance, yet they hold the weight of repeated footsteps.
Somewhere in Europe, in parts of Africa, in small towns of Southeast Asia, such roads still exist. Not marked by importance, but by continuity.
They have seen children become adults without noticing the change. They have carried conversations that no longer exist anywhere except in memory.
Modern maps often overlook such places because they are not destinations. They are transitions.
But perhaps life is made more of transitions than destinations.
A road does not need to arrive anywhere to be meaningful.
It only needs to continue holding the passing of time without complaint.
And in that quiet endurance, it becomes more permanent than the people who walk on it.

#heritage #roads #memory #culture #travel

#RajatChandraSarmah

— Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

29 May 2026
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There are mornings when nothing urgent exists, yet the mind behaves as if everything is overdue.
A cup of tea cools slowly on the table while thoughts begin to arrange imaginary deadlines. Messages that have not arrived feel important. Work that does not exist begins to take shape.
It is strange how silence sometimes creates its own pressure.
People often say they are “busy,” but sometimes the busyness is not in the world outside. It is in the mind trying to justify its own movement.
There is a quiet relief in noticing this.
Because once it is seen clearly, it loses a little power.
Not all urgency is real. Not all delay is failure.
Some mornings are simply mornings. Nothing more.
And perhaps learning this is also part of living well — to allow a few hours to exist without converting them into achievement.
The world does not fall apart if a moment remains unused.
Sometimes, it simply becomes a moment.

— Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com
YouTube: Converse With A Smile