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19 September 2026

There is a fish that does something one would not normally associate with a fish.

It shoots.

The archerfish lives in freshwater and brackish environments in parts of Asia and Australia. When it spots an insect above the water, it can shoot a jet of water from its mouth and knock the insect down.

That alone is remarkable.

But there is another part of the story that I find even more interesting.

The fish has to allow for the fact that it is looking from water into air. Light bends when it passes between the two, so the insect does not appear exactly where it really is.

Yet the archerfish learns to compensate for this.

It waits.

It aims.

And then—splash.

Dinner falls into the water.

Imagine explaining that to someone who had never seen one.

A fish looking up at a branch, calculating where an insect really is, and using a jet of water as a weapon.

Nature has been experimenting for a very long time.

We sometimes think intelligence must look like ours.

Perhaps it does not.

Sometimes it swims quietly beneath the surface and knocks lunch out of a tree.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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19 September 2026

There is something unmistakable about the Irish countryside.

Green fields stretch across the landscape, but many of them are divided by old stone walls that seem to belong there as naturally as the hills.

On the Aran Islands, off the west coast of Ireland, these walls are particularly striking. Generations of islanders built and maintained them, often using stones gathered from the land itself.

The walls were practical. They helped define fields and protect crops and livestock.

But they also changed the landscape.

From a distance, the small fields and countless stone divisions can look almost like a giant patchwork quilt spread across the islands.

Life on the Aran Islands was never easy. The soil was limited, the Atlantic weather could be harsh, and people had to make careful use of what the land offered.

Yet the landscape tells a story of patience.

Stone by stone, field by field, generations shaped a place without trying to erase its natural character.

Perhaps that is what makes the Aran Islands memorable.

The beauty is not polished or manufactured.

It comes from people working with a difficult landscape and slowly making a life within it.

Sometimes the most enduring landscapes are created not by grand plans, but by ordinary people solving ordinary problems, one stone at a time.

#Ireland #AranIslands #Heritage #RajatChandraSarmah

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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19 September 2026

A house can be beautiful and still feel empty.

And sometimes a very ordinary place can feel like home.

I have often wondered why.

It is probably not the furniture. Not the paint on the walls or the size of the rooms.

It is the people.

A familiar voice from another room. Someone asking whether you have had your tea. A person who knows when you are quiet for a reason and when you are simply tired.

Even small routines become precious without our noticing.

The chair someone always chooses. The newspaper placed in the same place every day. The sound of a particular door opening in the morning.

We rarely think about these things while they are happening.

Then circumstances change.

Someone moves away. A room becomes unused. A familiar routine disappears.

And suddenly, the house feels different.

Nothing has happened to the walls.

We have simply lost some of the life that filled them.

Perhaps that is what home really is.

Not a building, but the collection of people, habits, sounds and memories that make an ordinary place feel like ours.

And perhaps we only understand how much they mattered after they are no longer there.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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18 September 2026

An octopus does not look like an animal that should be particularly interested in solving problems.

It has no bones.

It has eight arms.

And somehow, it has become one of the most fascinating examples of intelligence in the animal world.

Scientists have found that octopuses can learn, remember and solve problems. Early experiments showed that they could learn to associate objects with experiences and change their behaviour based on what they had learned.

Then there is their extraordinary ability to manipulate objects with their arms.

Each arm has thousands of sensory structures, allowing the animal to explore its surroundings in a way very different from how humans use their hands.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the octopus is that its intelligence evolved along a completely different path from ours.

It has no language like ours.

No hands like ours.

No skeleton like ours.

Yet it can learn.

It can remember.

It can investigate.

And it can surprise scientists.

Sometimes nature reminds us that intelligence does not have one shape.

We simply recognise it more easily when it looks like us.

The octopus does not need to resemble us to be remarkable.

It only needs to be itself.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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18 September 2026

In northern Kerala, there is a traditional art form in which the boundary between performer and deity becomes deliberately blurred.

It is called Theyyam.

Performed mainly in the Malabar region, particularly around Kannur and Kasaragod, Theyyam combines dance, music, ritual, elaborate costumes and extraordinary facial painting. Kerala Tourism records around 400 different forms of Theyyam.

The preparation itself can take hours.

The performer undergoes a disciplined period of preparation before appearing in an elaborate costume, with a towering headgear known as the mudi. Traditional face painting uses materials including rice paste, turmeric and charcoal.

But Theyyam is not simply a spectacular performance to be watched.

For communities in North Malabar, it is part of village life and religious tradition. The performer is treated with reverence during the ritual, and people come seeking blessings.

What makes Theyyam particularly fascinating is that it has remained deeply rooted in local communities while also becoming known far beyond Kerala.

It reminds us that India’s cultural wealth does not live only in famous monuments.

Sometimes it lives in a village shrine, a drumbeat, a painted face and a tradition handed quietly from one generation to another.

#Kerala #Theyyam #SouthIndia #RajatChandraSarmah

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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18 September 2026

The older I get, the more I think that we leave behind far more than we realise.

Not necessarily the things we worked hardest for.

A person may remember something we said years ago, although we ourselves have forgotten saying it. Someone may remember that we stood beside them on a difficult day. Someone else may simply remember that we always smiled when we met.

We rarely know which part of us stays with another person.

I sometimes think about people who crossed my path many years ago. Some were colleagues, some were friends, some were people I met only briefly. Yet a few small things about them remain with me—their way of speaking, a particular kindness, perhaps even a joke that made everyone laugh.

Life moves on. People change places. Telephone numbers change. Some people disappear from our lives altogether.

But not everything disappears.

A little of every meaningful relationship seems to remain somewhere inside us.

Perhaps that is what we really leave behind.

Not our possessions.

Not our titles.

Just small memories in the lives of people who knew us.

And if those memories carry a little warmth, perhaps that is enough.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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17 September 2026

A crow is easy to underestimate.

It is small, dark and common enough that many of us barely notice it.

But the New Caledonian crow has surprised scientists for decades.

These birds are known to make and use tools. They can shape materials such as twigs and leaves to help them reach food hidden inside wood or vegetation.

In one famous laboratory experiment, a crow named Betty became widely known for bending a piece of wire into a hook when the usual tool was unavailable.

The discovery attracted considerable attention because it showed just how flexible animal problem-solving could be.

But perhaps the more interesting lesson is not that a bird can make a tool.

It is that intelligence does not always look the way we expect.

We tend to recognise intelligence when it speaks, writes or calculates.

Nature has never agreed to those rules.

A bird can look at a piece of material and find a possibility that was not obvious to us.

Scientists continue to study exactly how such abilities work.

For the rest of us, perhaps there is a simpler lesson.

Never assume that something is ordinary simply because we have stopped looking closely at it.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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17 September 2026

There are countries where the sea is nearby.

And then there are countries where the sea is part of almost everything.

Kiribati is a Pacific island nation made up of 33 atolls and reef islands and one raised coral island. Its geography has shaped not only how people travel and work, but also how communities organise their lives.

One traditional institution is the maneaba, a community meeting place associated with social and cultural life. Traditional systems of leadership and community organisation continue to have an important role, particularly in the outer islands.

This is more than a geographical curiosity.

On small islands, community matters because people depend upon one another.

The ocean may separate islands, but it also connects them.

Boats carry people, food and stories between communities. Knowledge of the sea is passed from one generation to another.

Kiribati therefore offers a perspective that can be easy to miss from far away.

A country does not need a vast landmass to possess a rich sense of identity.

Sometimes identity grows precisely because people have learned to live together within a landscape where cooperation is not an abstract ideal, but part of everyday life.

#Kiribati #Pacific #IslandLife #RajatChandraSarmah

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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17 September 2026

We spend a surprising amount of time trying to become someone.

When we are young, we want to become successful.

Later, we want to become secure.

Then, perhaps, we simply want to become peaceful.

But somewhere between these stages, life changes us in ways we never planned.

A disappointment makes us more careful.
A kindness makes us softer.
A loss teaches us what cannot be replaced.
A mistake reminds us that perfection was never the goal.

We sometimes look back at our younger selves and wonder why we made certain choices.

Perhaps we should not judge that person too harshly.

That person did not know what we know today.

They were learning.

So are we.

Growing older is not merely adding years to our age. It is collecting experiences that slowly alter the way we see people, relationships, success and even ourselves.

Maybe the person we are today is not the person we once intended to become.

That is not necessarily a failure.

Life is not an examination where we are given one correct answer.

It is a journey.

And sometimes the most beautiful part is discovering who we became along the way.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

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16 September 2026

Elephants have remarkable memories.

But sometimes a story about an elephant makes us wonder whether memory is only about remembering a place—or remembering a person.

In South Africa, conservationist Lawrence Anthony became known for his work with elephants that had been considered difficult and dangerous. When a herd arrived at his reserve, he spent time gaining their trust rather than simply trying to control them.

Years later, after Anthony died in 2012, something remarkable was reported.

Two elephant herds that he had cared for came to his home.

They remained there for some time before leaving again.

Nobody can say exactly what the elephants understood. We should be careful not to turn animal behaviour into a human story simply because it touches us.

But the event became one of the most widely remembered stories associated with Anthony and his relationship with elephants.

Perhaps we do not need to know exactly what was happening inside those enormous minds.

It is enough to remember that animals form relationships, recognise individuals and respond to changes in their world in ways we are still learning to understand.

Sometimes, the most moving stories do not need an explanation.

They simply make us pause.

And wonder.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: conversewithasmile
Email: rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com