Nidhi Katoch blog

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              

My friend of evening walk always talks to me in the language  which can neither be spoken nor heard. Today I had lot of questions for my friend. But sadly, he remained silent or may be I was not able to comprehend. And I returned without any answer... Dear little black bird,  Take me to the far lands with you,  where resides the peace and delight.  You are so content with your ways of life,  fly from waters on earth to the endless sky.  Tell me dear friend!  How did you find your answers,  when your questions had different meaning for others,  To whom did you ask,  From whom did you seek advice?  How did you reach to the peak,  How did you win this fight?  Now, you have touched the heights,  overcome every flight,  I'm asking for your guidance,  I want to feel acquiescent just once in my whole life. 

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. 

You are my own blood,  but I loathe you.  You turn your face and make merry when I'm in pain I loathe you.  When you tear the token  of my sweat and blood,  I loathe you.  When you throttle the piece of my heart,  I loathe you.  The cold day of your end  Will be the day of my relief,  But I'll always loathe myself for being your part.