Nidhi Katoch blog

The last time I saw his face was at the end of June. His questioning eyes were filled with loneliness. I tried to reason that shutting the doors would never help his hauntings. The smoke from the cigarette lit in his fingers filled the room. I walked toward the window to open its panes. I don't know for how long this window had been kept closed. There was a peepal that had grown over it. With some difficulty, when I finally opened the window, it felt like I'd set someone free. When I looked back, it was only me who felt this way. Opening the window symbolises him, memories of his love flying to the far place.  They say eyes never lie, but sometimes people just learn to hide the truth from their eyes. But I knew he was pretending. He offered me coffee, and when I nodded yes, he went to the kitchen to make one. I don't know why I always go to meet him. Maybe I'm also another loser hopelessly in love, trying to pacify my pain by looking at his pain, which seems much bigger...

I stared at the half-finished coffee; the mug had my lipstick stains on it. At first, I had the urge to remove them with tissue, but I didn't know what made me stop.  I sat on the verandah to watch the rain fall. A little kitten came and curled up on my lap. Earlier, when you were here, I was just another person for it. But now it also tries to find you in the sound of rain, in the droplets, in the petrichor. We both listened to the rain falling on the slate roof and slid down with heavy downpours. We had never bonded before, but now this kitten never leaves me alone whenever I'm at this place. How peacefully it was sleeping on my lap!  I had no idea how I would be able to leave it alone here. But this kitten is made for the wild. Whenever it misses you, it sits by your door and leaves. You can't cage a wild bird like I couldn't cage you forever. Even the mental pictures are blurred. You know it had been a long time since I had sung a song. I started to hum with the rai...

Last night, when I heard the rain my mind raced back to the times when rain only meant binge-watching Byomkesh Bakshi. I turned on the heater, the orange hue filled the room. Wish I could turn the blue into orange or pink or red or any bright colour but blue. I saw sitting you over the window, in a yellow dress, laughing over some silly joke, trying to tie up your waist-long hair. When I approached, you were not there. You flew out of the window. You were the child of the Ganges, like a river you all always flowed through every thick and thin. For how long I'll have to think about you. They say I need to settle myself down. Settle but where? What is meant by settling down? If you’d been here, I would have asked you.  Your friend called again. Sometimes I feel she tries to find you in me. We ended up crying together. They may care, maybe not. I do wish badly to start trusting the world again. I'm still figuring out with whom I'm angry. Now every call drains me, I'm afrai...

I looked at his face, once again, before saying a final goodbye. I looked around the room, there was a crack in the wall, a thin crack, like the lines of my palm. Lines of Fate. Fate! What a strange thing. There wasn't much change when I was here before. I saw my name on the wall, which I had written with coal. I still wondered what had brought him here. There wasn't much left for me to say, so I left.  It was a cold December night, my hands were freezing. I could feel the cold breeze on my lips. New moon night, made me realize that beautiful things, people, and thoughts always deceive you. They left! It is the sun who is always there for you.    Even covered with clouds, it provides light. It's my fault I fell for the moon and thought that warmth would stay forever.  Through the window of the old house, in the lane, I saw a ghost staring at me. It started to grow bigger and bigger. I stood there, motionless, staring back at the eyes of the ghost. It was about to eng...

I know how you always used to find happiness in the jingles of bangles. I'm wearing those bangles now, and it seems they are sobbing, humming a sad song. Yesterday, someone crossed by myside, wearing your perfume, it's weird I still remember how you used to smell. When I look at these new faces for a long time, their faces start to dissolve into one, Among all the faces, I only want to see yours, among all the voices, I only want to hear yours. When night drapes itself in moonlight, I start to think about you, just another damned full moon. Fetal position, The broken alarm clock, shattered pieces of glass and drops of blood. Absent-mindedly I hurt myself. I carry a photograph of you in my wallet, the old one. I'm afraid of looking back to those memories, those crazy stories. How I used to sneak out, wearing your cardigans and now I don't even touch them. Unconsciously your name slips out, your number is dialled. I hate to be loved. With love, you need to love others bac...

 Dear Aman,  As I picked up the pen last night, to write another letter to you, I started to wonder if you ever read these or not. The last time when I met you were trying to remove the mole on your cheek. You were so adamant about erasing the memories. I tried my best to make you realize that you can't run away from yourself.  I've seen it, dead do breathe. They might not respond, but when they are covered up in sheets, one can sense they're breathing. Well, death has life. I know it doesn't make sense to you. But it has. It is bound to come to everyone like the different people who come to us at different phases of our lives. It might have emotions too. Acceptance is the hardest thing one can ever do. But when it does, peace comes along with it.  Everyone is living with guilt. Even I'm. Sometimes I feel guilty about sensing the insecurities of people and weaving stories around them. I know our times under the shades of pines are over. And we both have zero hope of...

Death has a smell, a weird smell, which keeps you following wherever you go. When I opened the doors of that house, it felt like time hadn't moved a bit here. Except there's the skeleton of a rat and a spider's web. The good old neighbour came to ask if I needed anything. I politely smiled and asked her to sit with me for a while. It was an attempt to make my house smile, our chitchat. She and her lovely son always ring me to ask how I am doing. There's a thing: in villages or small towns, people may be nosey but some of them genuinely care. I was asking about everything and behaved like the same old person, which once I was. I opened the shoe rack, and my boots fell. Her eyes fell on them. She asked me about the last time I went on the ride. 'It's been a while.' She started to reminisce about the crazy adventures her son and I used to go on. How much our coming home late used to annoy them all? Now, there's no one to annoy, no one to scold, no one to te...

So finally, after so many months, I again picked up my guitar. I always have had a love-hate relationship with music. It's probably because I sing for a few people. I can hear your interpretation in every song. I heard your voice, sweet and lovely, a faint folk tune. I'm afraid I'm losing touch. Who cares anyway?  My fingers unconsciously started to play a folk tune you used to sing more often. Your life among the woods, stories you used to intricate in your songs. In January days, when time stopped due to winter, our talks were never-ending. I jokingly used to call you a storyteller.  Yesterday your friend called! Her accent had a hint of home. To make her comfortable, I started to talk in pahadi . She was talking about your adventures, your songs and stories, and your first love. I think, I was never the first in your life; that's why you left with your first one. Your romantic nature, despite the toxicity and cruelty around you, still surprises me. You've always ...

January morning, Foggy winter lanes, three of us Walking in the Garden, Hide and seek of sun, kicking sand over each other's shoes. Planning to eat another unhealthy meal, maybe 2-3 more coffees. Clicking pictures of stranded old buildings, watching peacocks trying to impress their partners, me complaining about why men don't put this much effort, obviously to offend my two friends. That was the day of Lohri, none of us at home. It was the shared feeling of loneliness that brought us together. But none of us wanted to accept it. We decided to hang around the city, on bikes. I lay my head over my friend's back, as it was too cold to open my eyes and I was so high on caffeine after crying for 13 hours, the previous night. Lying on the floor, lonely nights, the language close to your heart but you have no one to speak to, you have to embrace another language like you've been speaking it your whole life, your phone rings a lot, probably every other second, there's someo...

It was March night, I watched the snow falling silently, settling on the roof, branches, wherever it could fill the space. I watched people enjoying a bonfire, from the window. After travelling for 7 hours, I was in no mood to meet new people and have conversations. I dropped the idea of going out and asked for food in my room. The owner of the stay generously offered me his company for the next day which I politely refused, as I wasn't sure about my next day’s plan. He left the room, asking me to tell him if I changed my mind. Cute guy! I found myself speaking.  After having food, I made myself comfortable in the chair. You were sitting in front of me. What a surprise! You came here too! You are like becoming like these mountains, No matter how much I run away from mountains, fate always pushes me toward them. After all, I’m a Himalayan child, how long can I live away from my home? To defy your stare, I tried to stare back. But I was afraid you're going to see what’s in my hea...

At midnight when I let my emotions run, a call from an old friend is being ignored. Listening to the rain, a long night did not end at all. Moths surrounded the lamp, and one of them sat on my hand. Tonight I was wondering to whom I was trying to write. I've been running from myself for so long, that now my existence is a mirage to me. The familiar scent, a familiar face, my fingers were trying to touch those wrinkles, I tried to find the sparkle and shine of those two eyes in the shade of this dim lamp. I opened the gallery from your phone and saw our pictures. It's funny one day I'll be old and grey and you will always be the the same, young and charming.  The peacock feather in my book, which I've been trying to read for so long, is staring at me. Raindrops are falling on the unwrinkled side of the bed through the open window. For some reason, I don't want to close the window. When your whole world flies out through the window and reaches the stars, you never dar...

 I stared at the phone screen just in the hope that today might be the day when you'll call. I hated when you were on the verge of losing your voice, but today I can pay anything to listen to that weekling voice of yours. Songs, Incomplete. Dance steps on the cold floor of winter. It was due to your phone call that I witnessed my first snowfall. The space left by you has been covered by snow. I have no energy left to pick up the snow rake. What's the need when it's just a void?  On that doomed night, even the moon was eclipsed. how was I supposed to see the light? Alas! I can't even blame anyone. The paddy fields in the mountains, that jamun tree, and eating sugarcane while relaxing on lychee branches have become a long-lost dream. The flowing stream seems to call out your name.  I still need to move the book and glasses from your bedside table. I fill your water bottle every morning and empty it every night. With you gone, words have left me too, like shade and shadow....

Last night curled up in a ball, I felt your hands trying to lift me, Oh how much I wish, That touch to be my reality, not another dream or nightmare. You know I went to that place again, the little cat still comes and waits for you. Alone, day and night, in the hope that one day you will open the door and call her Feluda. Feluda, the famous detective, the name I suggested. I'm so jealous of the little cat, her undying hope, in her sad little eyes.  The colours of the walls have faded. The longing that you had in your eyes when you touched and admired those walls haunts me. Why fill the place with colours when I was supposed to see only blue in future?  A few weeks ago, your friend called. I don't know how many times she has told me the same things about you. The excitement in her voice never made me stop her. I listened and again tried to imagine how was aspect of your life that I never got to live with you.  The alarm went off! Another night has passed! I'm just afraid t...

Sitting in the same old cafe, chipped paint, smell of books. Reminiscing the time when the last time I was here. I was fighting with mixed feelings after spitting out the facts. In the turmoil and chaos, choosing between the ways of the world or me, I chose myself. I'm wondering over time, how we sit on our couch and the next moment we are on a plane, how we just graduated high school and at the next moment we entered in the late twenties. How happily we come home from school, hug our loved ones and the next day empty house welcome us. How once I used to sleep like a baby and now the goddess of sleep is angry with me. Time… writing this piece, eating my cake, and suddenly I'm in some other city, with new people. Just now I made friends and then left them; just now the city felt like mine and then it became a stranger again. If stars are watching over us, I want to ask them where I belong. In the darkness when the shadow leaves us whose hand am I supposed to hold? There are so m...