Nidhi Katoch blog

Shards of glass spread on the floor,  Creaking sound of Half open windows and door,  Is it a cast of spell or Demon rising from hell?  Valley of bountiful flowers is actually full of wounds and scars,  Soft cries and loud sobs, witnessed by moon and stars.  But they never reach to those for whom they meant,  They can never be,  They've never been sent.  We see with our closed eyes,  the sunset and rise,  The beaming pride,  But they hide The news of stolen gems, They compare and condemn,  to forget the cold,  Hidden inside the layers and folds One small universal truth that has never been told.  Chest full of secrets once had been sold,  is now somewhere in the marshes,  forever lost. 

  "What's more heavenly than steaming hot coffee after spicy momos? " I asked my twin who was still waiting for her coffee to cool down a little. "Maybe a piece of cake! " She replied jokingly. After this talk, we kept quiet for a while. It was a nice day to sit under the sun. A perfect day to soak the warmth in our hearts which had been turned cold while walking among the crowd.  "Why are we sitting here?" "Because we are seeking escape." "Is it wrong to do?" "No." "So why does it feel wrong?" "Because we're trained to feel so." "Should we part our ways? " "We never need to part ways to do different things." "Are you trying to say we are right?" "I'm not saying we are right. But all I know is We are NOT wrong." I didn't know where was this conversation heading, neither she. We kept on talking for a while in that way and fell silent again. "Let