Nidhi Katoch blog

The dust of memories enters  in my room through window and doors  and settles on the bookshelf.  Even when I sweep that dust,  its scent left behind.  When I flip those dusty pages the earthy scent fills the whole room, I try hard to recognize  that fragrance,  which might be like petrichor or uneaten dryfruits in my mother's box,  The first coffee date,  or rusk in tea stall, The musty smell of those old wooden doors, behind which we all used to hide. The reminiscences of old days  come at once,  But I'm still failed to figure out that particular smell.  I keep going through those pages after a day or two, And smile on the recollections of me and you.   

"Such a dreary night !" I thought while a cold breeze passed through my face. I was waiting at the bus stop to catch the last bus to my home. It is my daily routine to go home at this time. I was traveling alone that night. There were hardly 8-9 passengers. They were all engrossed in the Television which was playing old Punjabi songs. I'm always clueless about where am I heading. Yes, I don't know where my home is. I board different buses every night to find my town, my home.  But that night was different. I knew where my home was. I eagerly wanted to reach there. I saw the moon following the bus from outside. It seemed cold and sad, without any company. I'm not a "window lover" kind of traveler. I enjoy observing people, and their activities by sitting in the corner of the room. But that night I was just not interested. Bus reached the intersection of four roads. I saw a truck coming from the opposite side of my window. Then it was all blank.  I was fee...

I was sitting on the wooden roof of the cafe, trying to comprehend the meaning of my life. I heard a human voice from the sky and looked upward. While paragliding people looked like birds flying in the sky, as if they own the sky. As humans we always want to fly, free and wild. To break my chain of thoughts and to amuse myself, I started observing others in the cafe. A group of teenage girls was occupied in gossiping. "Why can't they just sit and enjoy the scenery? ", I remarked. A man in his early twenties, with a camera in his hands, was clicking pictures of hills. " A fine, sunny day to take pictures, but what's the use of beautifying something that is already beautiful? " I said in my mind, "But that's not of my concern. I'm doing the same thing here judging others and ignoring beauty. " I could feel the sting of jealous and contempt in my thoughts.  Mid day sun was up and it's warmth melted the snow settled in my heart. Two childre...

I was lying on the bench with my head resting on your lap, when I captured this photo. It was the breezy noon of October.The aroma of tea from nearby tea stall filled our surroundings. The blue sky and the pale-green leaves of trees were making the view more beautiful. I mused how in childhood, we used these leaves as currency, which could buy every happiness in our small world.  The leaves were swinging along with the breeze. It seemed as if they wanted to flow with the wind. But they didn't not know that they wouldn't be able to go far after getting rid of the tree.  Only a few moments of flying in the air then they would fall to the ground and lose their being. I noticed one pale leaf was coming to us from its twig. But you held it in your palm before it fell and put it in one of the books that we had bought from the roadside stall.  I realised some leaves don't lose their existence but stay forever as a token of memory in the hearts of people, the way this photo will ...

After being fed on silver spoon you talk about state of mind,  But do you ever realise the person out there can't even afford that?  The heaps of gold you waste  on your trash, and tag it as diamond,  I want to ask you when will you remove this humbug from your soul?  You say you own the light,   Oh thief you're the one who stole it  from the moth who flies around it during night.   You vaunt about your privileged fights,   but you're merely robbers  who rob the  fragile flower's   pride and rights.   

Once upon a time,  in the barren land of my heart edifice of modesty was built.  I was asked to remain inside, to not cross the threshold.  A Wallflower creeped out  from the cracks of veins,  fed on my blood,  multiplied itself and spread  all over the place,  on every wall, roof and windowpanes.  Oh dear, for how long one could put the wilderness  behind the bars.  The roots had reached  below the substratum, Weakened were the walls now.  On one dark night,  thunder came to play,  Shocked were the walls,  took the roof away.  Walls fell down,  There came light,  Rainbow smiled,  Wind blew calmly Flowers grew happily ever after.   

With the rising ache in my heart,  I hear the sound of termite who is hollowing my tree,  slowly and slowly it would turn into unburnt ashes.  Half of the ashes would flow with the blowing wind,  settle on the doorsteps and crumbled window panes of my dear,  Hence gives the last message of fallen tree.  Remaining ashes would submit themselves to the soil and there lies a skeleton filled with worms and ants.  Finally, the tree isn't lone  anymore.   

I was having my breakfast on the table by side of window. Sun rays were peeping inside from behind the tree. One or two rays felt pity on my loneliness and decided to come inside to give me company during my breakfast. I could see the thousands of dust particles in those sun rays. Few particles settled on my mobile screen, which was lying on table for not more than two minutes.  A little dust might have dissolved in coffee. I was constantly watching the silently dancing particles. Dancing or running? I don't know! I felt like I'm one of them, Speck of dust, dancing altogether yet alone. Dancing on the music whose lyrics are ineffable, rhythm which is lost in far hills, which has no intro and ending. I'm a speck of dust who's afraid she'll be lost somewhere in this loop named World.   I was distracted by the voice of kid outside on the street who was asking his friends to wait for him. He was on his foot while his friends were on bicycle. But when they didn't hea...

 Sometimes I wonder, how shall I heal the wounds of my heart, whom I have injured with my actions and words. How shall I assure my soul that I'm not a bad person, when I'm behaving like one? I'm seeking forgiveness from my heart and soul, from my body and mind. I'm seeking forgiveness from myself. May be I can fix myself then...  "Oh dear heart,  Forgive me for weighing you too much,  with my thoughts full of anger and anguish.  Forgive me, dear soul,  for all the weariness and self complaining attitude. My dear mind and brain,  I'm sorry, I loathe you  for being so simple and plain,  You helped me to  attained the heights,  But I'm so thankless,  You were with me in every fight.  Dear body, I want to apologize,  for shaming you because of not so perfect shape and size." Forgiveness is the most easy solution to surround yourself with positivity but sometimes it is the most complicated thing to do. 

The roughness and lack of care lead to very ugly phase and to get back the  relief and shine you have to cut them off.  ~Split ends

 I was in the final year of my college when I met my first love. Although we had seen each other but never tried to had a talk. I had never been in relationship before and had no plan of getting into one. But the destiny always has her own plans and everyone has to bow before her.  The sunny days of September  and the evening hour,  While sitting on the grass,  I was looking at you like a sunflower.  I knew you had the same  instinct as me but I was caged bird, full of colors,  with a frigid heart and You were free.  You came near me,  the clamor inside me arise,  I couldn't hear the people around me my heart was about to fly,  to the farlands of love which it had never been,  the feelings had never felt before,  the bright colors, it had never seen.  The outer world for me  was full of hardships and still it is,  You promised to come along  and are still with me.  I believe it was the plannin...

 Pc- Atul Bhandari We were sitting on the roof of our home. It was the month of December and the sky was clear. Clouds were scattered here and there, mountains had got their first snowfall. Under the sun, you were busy with your plants and I was reading my book half heartedly. My mind was revolving around you. I picked up my dairy and wrote,  Long ago in the land of pines,  Two hearts like parallel lines,  which they thought weren't  meant for each other, smiled.  In the month february love sprout between them and bloomed like a flower in the month of spring.  The flower kept blooming in summer, rains, winter and autumn,  Despite of every storm and heat it didn't withered.  Now it's the twilight, the flower is old,  the gust of wind came to carry the seeds and place them in  the land of young hearts.  I stopped writing and looked at you. You were not there. And my poem again remained incomplete without you. 

You diverted your look,  as if you didn't see me.  I was cheerful,  talking to my soulmate.  You lost in the crowd of bazaar,  Deep down I knew you were there for me because dear caring friend I had already seen, You were hiding behind the car.  Ps. The lines written are based on true incident and any similarities with reader's experience are purely intentional. 

We always watch and admire,  who knows to talk, who is helpful,  who doesn't hesitate to take help either,  We look for the faces and smiles,  make friend with him or her and move with our lives.  Without realizing there's someone who deserves more,  who just can't put up the words together,  who knows how to do but not to show,  because of reticence.  We ignore the soul and the heart who is with us but falling apart,  and keep looking for the upcoming feeds of the pretty faces; because they show more without any sense,  they show their fake happiness and false pain, immense.  They ask for attention for no reason, but we give them our all. It's our nature, it's our brain, but we let them toying with it.  And when the mirror of illusion breaks, we see the real souls,  But now the time has gone,  never to comeback again. 

Nily and Niah had gone to their maternal village for holidays. The beautiful village had a stream of water on the east and a river on west. During rainy season the reckless music of waters fills the whole village.  Nily had love for windows since childhood. She always chose the room where nobody sleeps, so that she could look outside the window during night. She used to wake up for hours. The golden light of yellowish electric bulb on the outer wall of her room illuminated the water droplets on grass and surrounded by the moths. She loved how the fireflies came inside her dark room through the little hole in window's net. She had enjoyed the music of night birds and insects, the fragrance of night flowers. She used to laugh with rain and chat with moon. Moon sometime played hide and seek  with clouds and Nily used to say in her mind, "Now moon! hide!, oh! Moon come outside". The moon sometimes acknowledged her commands and sometimes not. But she firmly believed that moon ...

Myriad memories of the  dark past come at once,  I tried hard to obliterate, everytime it hurts.  Under the ashen skies I seek refuge,  Only the downpour is my friend to hide this remorse huge.  Someone far away in hills saying the eulogy,  Today is the funeral of an innocent dream, I'm the sinner of this cruelty. 

In a room full of opinions  telling vices and virtues,  superficial attitudes, heedless,  fake sympathy and compassion,  She decided to Stand,  Alone and Silent.     ~They call her Wallflower

The sun of hope rises,  Along the grey clouds, brings shower,  Fall on the grass blades,  Sunlight and rain dance together, The young birds are learning to sing,  feed and how to fly,  Petrichor rises and filled  the whole surroundings,  The view of Rainbow on the northern sky is astounding.  The earth bathe in colors and the flowers of love bloom. 

Take me to a far place tonight,  where I write lyrics  and you sing those lines,  Song of love or of happiness.  When the moon shines and dazzled the world,  Let's dance with stars and match your steps with mine.  Take me back to our old place,  when the sun rises,  Paint me in your color,  like the flowers and butterflies paints the whole earth,  This way, you fill my  heart with endless mirth. 

People buy sadness from diamond and gold,  A person who sells happiness has no hold; The sellers of sorrow get  all the name and the fame,  by simply selling the pain of the person who is of same profession as theirs; The only difference is  he sells smiles,  And when the time flies, We realise his value,  But, now there's nothing you can do,  Nothing I can do,  Nothing We Can Do! 

I keep looking outside whether it's day or night,  feel the stagnation and a constant freight,  of losing the invisible race,  which my heart is running without any probable fate.  Now it is out of breath and  wants to sit and relax  and to melt down,   the Time has been elapsed.   

Last year on this day I decided to create "The Nk blog". I was little sceptical before starting, who is going to read? Why do people take interest in my writings? Do I really need to share them? Creating a blog is different thing and continuing is different. All these things were revolving around my mind. But today I'm happy that I have created this blog.  This journey of one year brought many ups and downs and most importantly great lessons of life and experiences.  I have been questioned many times for not writing some lines or story before my poems, so that my readers could get hint. Well, dear reader I want you to read it in your way. I don't wish to impose my way of thinking on you and hinder your thought process. I want you to feel my poems so that they could become yours. Some readers take them literally, some try to understand metaphors, similes, images used by me. This is obviously not the case with my stories.  Some readers think me an intense lover, some a ...

The habit of reading keeps me awake for hours.  It is not that I only read, sometimes it's my heart that keeps me awake. I try to comprehend the meaning of life or what do these dogs try to say to each other? I don't usually switch on the lights in my room. During the day it's the sunlight that fills my whole room and during the night thanks to my gram panchayat for the street lamp in front of my window.  Like any other day, I was reading at my desk, facing the open window. It was a moonless summer night, dark and gruesome. I heard the shrill cries. At first, I thought of cats. But that was a strange sound, I haven't heard before. I got up and peeked out of the window. The sight nearly took my heart to the mouth. I could feel the lump in my throat.  I saw the shadow of a hand floating on the ground. But where was the body? It intrigued me. Then I realized that the shadow is falling opposite my window but that was not my hand. As I could see the shadow of three hands, tw...

Burning in the fire which is ignited by own self, Feeling better on their fall and worst on their rise,  is Self Harm.  ~Jealousy              

The downpour from the grey sky  drenched the whole earth,  The drops settled on the leaves And the trees stand still.  I came out of my house to feel the damp air on my skin,  the droplets on the grass,  beneath my feet.  Childhood memories screened  before my eyes,  when we played cricket under the shade of mango tree,  Whether the sun or the shower it protected us like mother,  Previous monsoon, it struck by the  lightning from the sky,  shielded house from the thunder,  It is still standing tall,  for my wonder.  I shook the lower branch of tree and the raindrops fell over me,  As if it was showering Love on me. 

My heart chastises me for letting the hatred bloom in me,  Bad blood, envy, bitterness and The incredulous feeling of  'I'm supreme'.  The fire of wrath is blazing,  Care, respect, sympathy are freezing,  Love has turned cold,  I'm a living being But, the life in me is fading.

I pick up the stone and smashed the head of my opponent,  I take the stick and beat the undesired component,  I reply furiously to make  that chatterbox feel down,  I make that cunning person feel shy with my single frown.  And with these thoughts I'm sitting here alone,  With an innocent smile on my face  the only thing which I own. 

Why are you so angry, dear wind,  Throwing tantrums on us,  Our fields are on verge of harvesting,  My dalhia is experiencing its first summer,  You pair up with clouds And bring heavy showers and hail,  Can't you hear the little plants' wail?  You come with thunder,  when sky is grey,  on the other side of the vale,  falls the sun's first ray, You left us wondering,  What just happened?  You left us with broken leaves and crushed flowers,  And made us realise,  Sunrise is always beautiful after the darkness of war. Pc- Atul Bhandari

I'm stuck in the middle of the chaos of my thoughts, keep turning all the night,  I try to say my heart out, but the room echoes and cries with me and frights.  There comes a firefly who is flying over my head,  in this damp and dark season she always find a  way to enter my room and to my bed.  She speaks mysteriously and silently,  there's a magic in her glow,  After leaving the message of hope,  She makes her a way to go,  to the land of deliverance and delight.  The sun rays fall over my eyes,  I'm back from the dreamland,  and there's smiling the blue sky. 

Nights in hills are so dark and silent that you can feel scared with the rustle of leaves. It always happens that you are wandering alone in night and suddenly bamboos come in mood of talk. And their shrill talk easily makes you feel uneasy! Why on the earth they have to talk at this hour when all other trees sleep silently.  When you move further then howling of fox add music to the song of cicadas. Sometimes dogs also sing their sad Raagas at night which you can sometimes confuses with that of foxes if you're immature to the rules of hills.  If you are lucky enough you'll get to listen the cries of cats. Old people say crying of cat is bad omen. How can this be bad when they are just asking their partners to spend night with them. Well, after destroying your night sleep these cats come to your house, in the morning, with their innocent meow and you forgive them!  Then, comes the hooting of owl, song of cuckoo and other nocturnal birds. Few sing to attract mate, few as a...

Walking alone in this night, Staring at the sky, My heart seek freedom, from the constant fight of my emotions, In the lake of stars, rage and hatred had left the dark scars, Moon peeps above from the trees, tells me the matter of fact, after the night Love shall win the war.

These are the late hours of night, And I'm still awake,  Wondering about my identity,  With the ticking of clock,  My heart quakes,  Agitated by the scruples,  Like the ripples  in a peaceful lake.  Seeking the interpretation of my existence,  Real and fake,  For the mirror and the world,  I'm just a young bird,  ready for first flight,  whose life is on stake. 

Barred the door of my soul,  No one could enter,  Distorted shadows on the wall and the feelings tender.  Tired of hearing the flashy words  from the venomous hearts,  Cause of every misery,  Teared my courage apart.  It's easy to say,  You never squealed, But the wounds you had left, can never be healed. 

Take off the shield that you use to hide your real self from the outer world,  I'm you, you are I, so why this hesitation my beloved,  Come and dissolve in me like the rainwater in the sand...

It was two O'clock when my sleep broke suddenly, just after half an hour. The rice lights on my book rack was illuminating the whole room. It was late spring night. I could hear the song of nightingale. Since, I'm not a sound sleeper anymore like I used to before, during my teenage, I got up from my bed and pick up the book to read without switching on the light. I placed it on my table and switched on my table lamp. I sat on the position facing window.  It was nearly five thirty when my eyes felt heavy. I decided to sleep for a while. I lay on my bed and closed my eyes. The owl which often sits on the street light outside my window, I heard its hooting. My mother opened the door of my room to ask me to wake up. I told her about my sleeplessness and slept again. I felt the third foot under my feet and hand on shoulder. Something was holding me. There were limbs but not body! It sent chill down my spine. I tried to switch on the light but couldn't find the switch. I was not ...

The silence has prevailed all over the streets of my village. Due to COVID-19, we all are in homes. Since, my routine of spending early hours of the morning on my window has not changed. So I penned, how the small world around my window has changed... Nowdays I sit by the window and see no one,  except the sun smiling from the sky over the trees and birds.  This is the time of springs,  cold has still not gone.  Mountains covered with fresh snow,  dandelions on the foothills, Dahlia on the pots,  Dancing bees are going crazy,  Sparrows are chirping loudly this morn. The street which is usually  the centre of fascination for me,  The saint with harmonium,  Cyclist milkman, gossipmongers (walkers),  and children in school uniforms,  But today they're locked in their homes.  Well, my window is still here,  and new creeper on its sidewall,  My mornings are now filled...

I know that the whole situation is very scary. This pandemic has brought fear and anxiety in whole world. We're facing mental and financial insecurities. So here's a small piece of my writings, hope it'll leave you with some hope and optimism. The day bright seems dark as night,  But We can Fight and sing the songs of love, care and gratitude,  The angels sitting above in the heavens will listen to us,  Soon we'll meet our loved ones and greet the strangers,  walk on grass, barefoot and smell that lovely wildflower from the far land. 

I always write my feelings about love, my restlessness, childhood, nature... But I forgot to confess my feelings for a person who loves you the most and cares for you every single time, who is concerned and want to know your every movement, Our favorite- The intruder.  This is a small love poem for my favorite person which may sound like sad breakup to my busybody. 😊 You show like you don't care,  We're aware of your cold stares.  You may veil your face by the  mask of innocent expressions,  But my dear intruder!  You can't remove the impression of your doings and deceptions.  You may be depressed  that we are not together anymore,  After whatever happened,  Things (we don't want to) can't be restored.  Life opened millions doors,  We chose ours and peacefully moved on! 

The whole vale is covered with mirk, Moon lit night with the hint of mist,  I wake up by the sudden jerk, crying cats and dogs' howls resist me to go back to the sleep, I want to look out through my window  and to stop these weeps, My throat is choked and a shadow  on the wall, the moonlight fills the room, but I can't follow. My brain and body are not coordinating, Why am I calling unknown names,  in some trodden old lanes? Blood comes out from my broken veins,  There's somebody in the flames. Now, I open my eyes  to find my heart is about to break the walls of my chest, But the cicadas song is very kind. I just count some odd numbers,  That's enough to lost  again in the world of slumber. 

Today, I went to the other side of hill,  Where I saw you for the first time and my will to wait for you strengthened, I listened to the nightingale, in that early hour of dawn, The spring in the mountains  are about to begin, which is accompanied by the winter and followed by the summer, which is celebrated by the bold sun and the bad weather. My heart sank thinking  about the small span of spring, A butterfly flew by my hair, spreading its colorful wings, And placed its feet on the dandelion flower,  Which you had placed on my hair,  and promised to comeback. Today passed the one more year of yearning and contemplation, my yearning heart  and sobbing passion. When the sun arises from the east, I plucked the dandelion  and dressed my hair, I went back home believing our fate.

I'm lying silently  under the moon, by the river, The agitating flow of water  like my inflamed heart, eager to go ahead and far,  Far where there would be confluence  of courses of two rivers, hence with the double strength, It would move ahead, Leaving behind the serene hills and plains, all small streams and drains. Sometimes nurturing,  Sometimes destroying, It seems that it stops for no one, Neither for the moon nor for the sun. Ultimately it reaches to the sea where it evaporates in to clouds, and flies freely over the hills, to melt on a day to again become  a spring, river and sea. The sun is about to rise,  Birds are coming out of nests, I'll carry on my expedition with a promise to come back, Come back, after meeting my sea!

In the early hour of morn,  the sun and moon share the same sky, Like the lovers in the same room. Far apart, But meet regularly, Can't touch but  see each other merrily. ~Video Call

When the sun departs and embraces the dusk, The marigold of my heart  withers, with all its petals crushed. With every passing hour,  The flame in me is diminishing, In the dead of night, nightbird wails, Fireflies flicker as if mocking. I'm looking for my sun who is lost in this gloom, When the heavenly rays fall, I rejoice and bloom.

I listened to the slow cries,  But in this darkness I could not see, Enraging tones turned morose, Surly squeals of my known, Made my ears bleed. Throbbing pain of broken mirror, Roaring rain and lost in scruples, Who was innocent! Who was sinner! 

I'm alone in this night  Water has engulfed me, My heart is hanged  somewhere in the air, between the surface and the sky. Sobriety has escaped by breaking all walls  of the chamber, Would I ever be able to  reach that place, where peace resides,  where a little black bird flies,  with the ease, without any storm  and screaming wind, where the sun smiles on every dream !

Pic credit- Mother The day is young and bright I'm gazing at the still mountains  who seem to kiss the blue sky. I could see the white snow spreading its clothes all over the mountains, And the familiar broad road, on a mountain which hasn't changed  since my childhood. The mango tree is swinging with the breeze as if advising its little children  to embrace the sun and the rain, Welcome the spring and fight the hail.  Little mynah(s) are playing hide and seek, Sparrows feed grains, Woodpecker is busy with its beak, Without paying attention to my existence, I'm lost in the forest dense of my heart, which is clouded by some wrenching thoughts. A gust of wind comes from the north, as it brings snow in its scent, Whispers loudly in my ears  your winters are about to end. 

Rage has made its authority in the room of mind,  and bad blood in my heart, Love has lost its right somewhere behind.  My ears are closed Eyes are blind, Body is burning  Still my organs are not kind.  My mouth is silent Thoughts are aggressive, Actions say nothing  words are abusive.  When shall I get the soul When shall I heal Time is slipping away  So does the life's reel.