Nidhi Katoch blog

I'm wandering from place to place,  High hills and dales,  deep on ground and like a boat sails in the sea, a cotton swab or pappus travel long distances in their search.  I'm looking for someone important  who was near and dear to me,  Diverged roads, slant path and thorns had pricked my feet and knees.  I run and run  and sit near the lake,  where water is stagnant and stale. When I looked inside it I could see nothing,  no one has ever told me if you ever lose  yourself, you will never be free.  My search is still incomplete,  It's getting harder and harder to conceal my thirst, my misery, my infelicity I'm a green eyed demon,  And mouth is hard to seal.  Neither I can see,  Nor I can seek help.  I have to find once again,  Myself. 

I've placed my study table in front of the window so that I can spend my morning hours there. Sometimes I brood over past, think about future or just live in the present without any thought. Today when I sat writing my words, my hand started to tremble. The sky was clouded, dark clouds, it was going to rain soon. I got up to take my blanket and covered my self completely before sitting on chair again. I tried to write two- three sentences but words were not coming to me. Neither I forced them to come. I started to look outside. Mother brought me a cup of tea and placed it on the window sill. A bird who usually sings from the clump of the vine in front of neighbor's fence was also silent today. Only faint cries of crickets were there. 'Soon there will be rain and everything will be washed. Every potholes will be filled. But it's temporary. When sun rises every broken thing filled by rain becomes empty. Sun is the source who tells us these potholes needed to be repair, th...

I've read 56 new books this year so far and two were rereads. For few people it might be a crazy amount and for others it's nothing. Well, reading less or more doesn't matter if you enjoy reading. I told you in June that I might share what am I reading. Deciding between 56 books is really difficult. Here are some of my recommendations: 1. The Last Queen by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni The Last Queen is the story of Maharani Jindan Kaur, youngest wife of Maharaja Ranjit Singh (of Punjab). Book is written by the perspective of queen Jindan, born as a daughter of a dog trainer, how she became queen of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, how she faced all the conspiracies against her, most importantly her transition from a little girl to strong women has been written in detailed and beautiful manner. She is not portrayed flawless. You will see many mistakes done by her turning in to blunders. At some point book might felt like drag. If you've already read the Palace of Illusion by same ...

We were sitting inside the cafe, facing the door. The rain drops were sliding down the glass door. We both were silent or one can say I wasn't in mood of making conversation. Someone entered through that door and also brought the gust of humid air.  'So monsoon has arrived here.', you said in casual tone. I only smiled. The thought of rain itself annoys me. I was born in rainy season. So I'm supposed to love it. But on the contrary I hate it. Although it wasn't the case in childhood. Well today I'll not bore my readers with my childhood stories. 'Why are you so agitated, Nily? The way you are staring outside the door is really scary.' I almost fell from the chair while laughing. 'Now my sudden laugh will make the situation more scary.' I replied with cheerfulness.  'Your ways of suddenly falling silent and suddenly  breaking in to talk makes me scare sometimes. I keep on wondering what's going on inside your head.'  'It's been...