Amit Raj Author, Learner and Trader

  I. The Nature of Fleeting Feelings There is something heartbreakingly beautiful about being human. We are vessels for feelings too vast to contain, too delicate to hold for long. One moment we are caught in a burst of laughter that shakes our chest, and the next we find ourselves looking at a chair once occupied by someone who is now only a memory. The emotion—whether joy or sorrow—never truly stays. It visits, resides for a moment like a passing guest, and then leaves us with the echo of its presence. Why can’t we long live an emotion? Why do even the deepest loves fade into nostalgia, and even the darkest pains soften into the dull ache of remembrance? Because emotions were never meant to be permanent. They are waves, not statues. Currents, not anchors. They move through us—rippling, crashing, caressing—and then they move on. If they stayed forever, we would break. II. Happiness as a Mirage Consider happiness—the fleeting kind, the one that arises when you see...

In a world that constantly demands our speed, performance, and perfection, we often overlook the very moments that make us feel alive. But if you pause—just for a breath—you’ll notice the world inside your home is filled with quiet magic. A magic that asks for nothing, yet gives everything. Cherish it. Cherish the moments that seem ordinary. Because they’re not. They’re pieces of your own living poem. Feel the silent language of love in the way your mother adjusts your blanket even when you’re asleep. In the way your father silently watches over you from across the room, not saying much, but saying everything in that stillness. The walls of your home have heard your laughter, your outbursts, your silence—they know the real you. The sun sneaking through the window in the early morning, dancing on your face before the alarm clock goes off—it’s not just sunlight, it’s a reminder that another day has come, another chance to live, to love, to remember. Feel the gentle trickle of rain throug...

  Sometimes, a single message from someone you’ve touched through your writing brings back the very essence of why you wrote in the first place. Today, I want to share such a moment — not just as a reply, but as a reminder to anyone who has ever walked away from home with a heavy heart. After publishing my recent blog, "The Journey from the Grabs of Loneliness" , I received this moving message: “I came to my hometown for a day to stay with family and for some work, and I’m going back to Kolkata—my workplace. Like every time, even this time, my nose is all red, eyes have swollen, and it’s all blurry in front. I can recall your blog. The warm dal chawal served without even asking, the return to warmth: it’s all in front of me today. It has been this way always. We say we are habitual now, but the heart still aches, we still turn around to see our home—our safe place—again. If average means settling at home with less education, shared responsibility, dinner with family—I ...