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

The Eternal Conversation of Sun and Moon

PEN TO GLORY (Final round)

Continued from my post on 14/12/2024

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 In the vast theater of existence, a fleeting moment arrives when the brilliance of day bows gracefully to the quiet mystery of night. It is a threshold where certainty dissolves into wonder, and the world seems to hold its breath in reverence. The fiery glow of the horizon softens, leaving behind not an end, but the whisper of a promise shimmering in the silence.

The golden blaze of the departing day is a testament to ambition—a force as restless as the human spirit. It mirrors our compulsion to strive, to create, and to carve a mark upon the sands of time. This light burns with purpose, slicing through the chaos of existence. Yet, as it sinks below the horizon, it reveals a profound truth: even the most relentless pursuits must bow to the sanctity of pause. The fading brilliance is not a retreat; it is a transformation, a quiet assurance that renewal begins in stillness.

With the arrival of night comes a different kind of light—subtle, steady, and unassuming. It does not command; it beckons. It invites introspection, offering a space for thoughts too delicate to emerge under the sun’s glare. This borrowed luminescence is not a conqueror but a confidant, a quiet companion guiding us through the labyrinth of reflection. Under its soft glow, the mind untangles the knots of the day, and the spirit finds clarity in the shadows. It is a sanctuary where the unspoken finds its voice.

These two forces—one fierce, the other tender—are not adversaries but partners in a cosmic dance. Together, they form a cycle that mirrors the duality within us all. The drive to achieve and the wisdom to pause, the desire to ascend and the need to return—these are not contradictions but complements. True harmony lies in weaving these opposing threads together, embracing both the fire that propels us forward and the quiet that grounds us.

This interplay is also a reflection of time itself, that unseen river carrying us through beginnings and endings. The fading light and emerging glow are not mere markers of hours; they are symbols of life’s transient beauty. Each fleeting moment, like the colors of twilight, holds a story—a gentle reminder that impermanence is not a loss but a gift, urging us to cherish the present even as it slips into memory.

On a deeper level, these contrasts echo the relationships that shape our lives. Some people blaze like the sun, igniting passion and challenging us to grow. Others resemble the moon, offering quiet strength and unwavering presence. It is in their coexistence that we find balance, a wholeness that reflects the intricate canvas of human connections.

The meeting of the sun and moon is more than a celestial event; it is a metaphor for resilience, for the interplay of opposites that defines our existence. It speaks of gratitude—not only for moments of dazzling brilliance but also for the quiet beauty of reflection. It urges us to honor both the courage to chase our dreams and the wisdom to pause and appreciate the journey.

As the day whispers it’s farewell and the night hums its arrival, we are reminded of our own duality. We are, each of us, a blend of intensity and calm, of bold strides and measured steps. To live fully is to carry within us both the sun’s fire and the moon’s grace, to embody the courage to shine brightly and the wisdom to glow softly. And in this delicate balance, we find not just existence, but its deep  meaning.

*********

Rajat Chandra Sarmah

Guwahati ,Assam ,India

15/12/2024

The Pen to Glory National Competition.

The above National competition was organised by Blue Star Publication in 3( three) rounds of selection process . In The first round thousands of people participated making the competition very interesting but tough.

I got short listed for the second round along with 178  ( one hundred and seventy right) other participants . I got also selected in the second round making it more enthusiastic for me to compete with the other 46 selected . 

The final round was very tough and the organiser provided a complex picture  of sun and moon and to write our thought in any genre within 200-800 words .

I submitted a prose ,about my thoughts  coming to my mind ,looking at the picture and submitted . Yesterday , the Final result came , and to my astonishment , I got selected as Runners Up .

Very Very Happy to be in the list of winners in a National level competition .

My writing for the final will be published here tomorrow for your views .

Thanks to all my readers , you are the inspiration for me .

Hidden letters

The Last Monsoon( part -IV)

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INSTAGRAM : @rajatchandrasarmah5

As they left her parents’ house, Arun pulled her into a tight embrace. “You were amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

“We did it together,” she replied, feeling a warmth spread through her.

With each passing day of the monsoon, Riya and Arun navigated their new life, filled with uncertainty yet fueled by hope. They faced challenges, from managing finances to adjusting to each other’s habits. Their love deepened, but so did their worries.

One evening, as they sat on the balcony watching the rain cascade down, Arun turned to her. “I’ve been thinking, what if we pursue our careers? I want to be an artist, but I’m also considering applying for a teaching position at the local school. I could inspire others to find their passion.”

Riya smiled, her heart swelling with pride. “And I’m thinking of starting a small business selling handmade crafts. I want to give back to our community.”

Arun looked at her, admiration in his eyes. “Together, we can make a difference.”

But as the monsoon wore on, they began to feel the strain of reality. Riya received calls from her parents, filled with concern about her future. Arun faced pressure from his family, who questioned his choices. “Why would you want to teach when you could pursue a career in the city?” they asked, bewildered by his desire to stay in Anandpur.

The weight of their families’ expectations began to erode the joyful foundation they had built. Riya could see the worry lines etching deeper into Arun’s face. “We need to prove them wrong,” she said one evening, frustration spilling over. “We can’t let them dictate our happiness.”

Arun sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I know, but it’s hard. What if we fail? What if we don’t meet their expectations?”

Riya felt her heart sink. “What if we don’t try? What if we live our lives in regret?”

As the final storm of the monsoon approached, the tension between them grew. They began to argue more, small disagreements escalating into larger fights. Each conflict chipped away at the love they had nurtured

One particularly stormy night, after a heated argument about finances, Riya found herself alone on the balcony, tears streaming down her face as the rain fell around her. The world felt dark, and she feared losing the one person she loved most.

Arun joined her, concern etched on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t want to fight. I just feel so lost.”

She looked at him, feeling the weight of their struggles. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we can’t let this break us. We have to find a way back to each other, to the love that brought us together in the first place.”

He reached for her hand, and they stood together in silence, the storm raging around them, mirroring the tempest in their hearts. Riya closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh scent of rain-soaked earth, hoping it would cleanse their spirits. “Let’s make a pact,” she said, her voice steadying. “No more letting our families dictate our happiness. Let’s promise to communicate and fight for what we want—together.”

Rajat Chandra Sarmah 

Guwahati , Assam India

11/12/2024