Nidhi Katoch blog

I was gazing at the sunset from the corner window. The sun was below the horizon. There's something in the beauty of twilight that can't be ignored. The sky was shining like a canvas painted by a painter. When the birds passed through the sight it seemed that the painter had dropped a few black drops of paint on his precious painting so that it could be saved by evil eye. The howling of dogs, birds going back to their nests, cattle grazing fields to their owner’s place. I'm sitting here putting my thoughts into words, carefully choosing them and decorating them like books on my shelf.  I don't care about being told that I'm two-faced, it's not my problem if they have forgotten that every coin has two sides. After travelling, losing and winning, moving mountains or bowing before them, chasing butterflies, battling dragons, and taming wolves I've learned that in the end, I'm my only friend, in the end, I have to fight my battles. Although my fine with that

Last evening when I reached my place, I lay on my bed without changing. I scrolled the internet for a while and watched some short 15-second videos which were an utter waste of time. I came out of my room and started to walk on the terrace. The rustle of leaves was in sync with the hymn in my mind.  I saw a flock of migratory birds flying from one direction to another. Even the birds know when and where they are valued and when they should move to another place. Rivers change their course after a period, winds change their direction, bears hibernate, and fishes leave the watershed.  With thousands of thoughts in my mind, I came inside, refreshed myself and made myself a hot cup of tea. I picked up my diary and soaked the sun peeping through my window. A kitten came to sit on the window out of nowhere. I didn't disturb him at all. I don't want to get attached to him only to leave this place and make him wait for me at this window without any hope. Hope is a weird thing, either i

Tonight I'm walking on this mall road, a new place, and I feel like the lake is calling out for me. There are a bunch of friends and their guitarist friends are having the time of their lives. Singing and cheering. Few people have gathered around them. And two youngsters may be in their early 20s smoking like there's no tomorrow.  I still carry the cardigan knitted by you in the winter of 2012 when we witnessed the snowfall while watching outside the window, in a room filled with the dim yellow light of a heater. I wrap it around me in the hope of falling asleep in your arms just one more time. Black fleece still has a sheen, I don't know if you were there or not last time I wore this very cardigan to say goodbye. The wind coming from the mountain makes me wear the cardigan again. The warmth is still there. Remember, how we binge-watched Byomkesh Bakshi and talked about Sherlock Holmes on our evening walks? How much we differed about our concept of love and hate. How much y

I was roaming on the rooftop at night blowing rings of smoke. Oh, these late hours when I can't make up my mind if should I sleep or wait for morning to see the sun. I checked the call logs. Not a single call was there. There's not going to be any.  I scrolled the internet only to throw away my phone. I swore loudly. What a relief! The full moon scattered its light all over the place. I could see those rings rising clearly in that light. I kind of felt bad for smoking again. I stubbed my cigarette under the shoe. I tried to enjoy nature like I used to before. But inspiration wasn't there. I've been travelling a lot for the past few years. And those shards again renew my wound the moment I return to my place again. Why doesn't the sky ever become black here? I cursed the place again. But who was I to blame? I'd chosen to come here. Now I'd to collect the mess I'd made of myself. Isn't it the fun of making your decision, that you own your mistakes with

I watched green water moving back and forth while sitting on the shore. Fall had arrived. I felt the chill in the breeze. The sun was subtly shining. I always feel like there's a  blue hue in the cool bright mornings. I so badly wanted to pick the colours of the day and paint them on some blank canvas. I tried to understand what water was trying to say. What message was it trying to convey and for whom? Sometimes these sounds of water appear cheerful to me, sometimes sad and sometimes these are neutral as if the lake is immersed in deep thought. This water has listened to many stories and problems. It has become a partner in the loneliness of many people. It has witnessed many winnings and embraced the tears of defeat within itself.  But where does this lake share its thoughts? At night when everyone leaves for their homes, with whom does it share its emotions? When I lie down on my bed I usually hear that the lake is crying. Who is going to soothe its pain?  I was so overwhelmed w

It is the incident of August when I was travelling back to my place, I started to talk to my co-passenger. He was also, travelling back to his home. As it was going to take more than 8 hours, I didn't mind a company. I could use it as an opportunity to get an escape from me. Our conversations wandered from the heights of the Himalayas to the depths of the sea. With the passing night, stars usually come close to each other or at least this is what seems to me. We came closer like those late-night stars. I could feel the crescent moon travelling with us, along the same path we had chosen and will move along with us even after we'll part ways. He told me his favourite poem was 'Dust of Snow' by Robert Frost. How he wanted to seize each moment. He never wanted to regret not doing anything. Upon asking my favourite writing I said   "The Little Match Girl". I told him how I thought it was my story as a child and how I still imagine this way. We talked about this for

Bathing under the moonlight, when I looked above at the stars my feet started to move themselves and my arms embraced the wind and started to move like a slow wave. I felt a hand holding my hand and our feet moved in sync with the beat of crickets and the rustle of leaves. I heard someone playing the drums but I couldn't get whether it was the beats of my heart or the person holding my hand. Whether it was a person or just a shadow or just me. I didn't know.  There was a tranquillity in the air. I don't remember the day when I danced so peacefully. The rose on the hair was blooming. My dress was flowing with the moves of my body. The dangling of earrings, the tinkling of bangles, and my broken anklet, everything seemed to be in place for a moment.  The coldness of the floor was now reaching out all over my body, and the stillness of the night was now trying to put a hold on my moves. A voice was trying to tell me something but words were so much jumbled. Then they fainted w

It was a winter morning. The layer of dew was settled on everything. As I stepped outside I felt the few drops falling and getting settled on my hair making it more frizzy. Every season has its own charm. Damp grass blades sticked with my boots. My phone had rung manytimes. Why this person is calling me after ten years? Leaving a kid in smog for getting lost forever, now this person wanted to meet me. I'd already forgive this person and now I wanted to forget it too. My phone rang again and I didn't pick up again.  In a panic, I tried to light up my cigarette even knowing I might be fined by a cop at any minute. I'd stopped smoking many years ago, but this years old pack is still with me. I couldn't let it go. Whenever I feel any odd emotion I pull a cigarette out and place it again in the pack without smoking. Ah! Leaving isn't hard. Hard is forgetting the feel of smoke.  I'm walking with double pace almost running. I might catch train to new place. I know runn

It was another day of my solo travel. I entered the cafe with my muddy boots and ordered myself a coffee. I rested my backpack on one chair and sat on another as if I was dating my backpack. Which is kind of true. I started to flip the pages of my book. Soothing music was playing in the background. The aroma of coffee was everywhere. It was quite early in the morning. There was no other customer there. I looked at the old dusty window panes. They were trodden like a heart filled with regret. We spend our whole life thinking that what if life was another way round? Whether it's regret or disappointment with life. It's difficult to decode the cryptic messages life sends to us. I think those who can understand each signal of life are saints and may become gods someday. But I have currently no mood for leaving my human side. Perfection is never gonna be celebrated. At least by me. I'm not sure about others. My thoughts were interrupted by a clang on the door. Another traveller

I've kept your photograph on my study table. Today when my eyes fall over your picture, it becomes difficult to control an urge to hold you for one last time. After our last phone call, I'd never imagined that phone calls can become a far-fetched dream. Everybody’s worst nightmare can become your reality. Last morning a kitten sat outside my kitchen with longing eyes and I started to wonder what you would have done. Everyone else wants me to go back, I know you would have never wanted that. Once again over everyone's opinion, I chose you, even when you're not here. I chose you. If we were given a choice nothing like this would happen. Everything seems so unfair. But who has fair life? So, there's no point in crying. But how long can you hold tears?  Today, I sat down at my study table to pour out all my emotions. But the pen stuck at a dot. It simply refused to move. Nothing in my head was making sense. I know a lot of things we write, say or think don’t make any se

It's nearly 1 am, I can hear rain outside. Sleep has left my eyes and I'm eating instant noodles. A flickering light coming from my laptop as I'm watching a movie directed by Basu Chatterjee. I know almost every dialogue. I wonder how many people are waking up at this hour of the night. Is everyone happy or satisfied? What has deprived them of their sleep? Do they feel lonely? Or are they talking to their loved ones right now? Funny how we all are awake and alone but still are together awake under the night sky. A lot of people ask me how much pahadi I'm. I just push aside this question by telling I'm not a mountain person. Well, I can tell by looking at the grey skies that it's snowing in the mountains above. I can feel the winds of mountains from the plains. I might like city life, but when night prevails I lie on my bed I start to miss the clear black sky, my open window, the moonlit room, and the stars. There's a blank space in my heart that always remai

Aman passed through the graveyard, he saw some pink flowers had grown all over the place. The not so maintained and so-called haunted place was in bloom that monsoon. As he moved ahead, he thought of going to the park but decided against it. These days parks are either filled with couples or with some over-enthusiastic tourists. Aman finds it very difficult to get peace these days. So he turned back to walk on the lane aside from the crumbling church and graveyard. But these days this place also attracts the attention of tourists. Aman walked toward the forest mumbling something in resentment. Aman had met many people of his interest in the forest. He used to meet new humans or creatures every day when he was a kid. Now things are different. He sat on a big black stone under an old banyan tree which was standing there for don't know how many years. With so many people coming to Aman's town, he believed that even ghosts had left the town. After all, ghosts are supposed to live i

You know stars still shine here. When I came back here and looked above the night sky I started to think of you again. Half of the moon was hiding behind clouds as if was peeking playfully. Venus on the west side shined so brightly. I wanted to fill my eyes with all the stars before I lose them here too. You know stars don't shine on the other side. When the rain stops at night, fireflies rise and filled the whole place. Night Jasmine blooms, raindrops that are settled over a lamppost start to fall. My hand automatically reach out and try to fill those pearls. Because the drops which settle on my palm stay a little more than those that fall directly on the ground.  Vines have covered all the fences, and some wild lilies are there. Mornings are so dull, without any fuss. Sun doesn't smile, it just comes to fulfil duties and to go back. Because no matter how much you try to run away you have to face the things. Your heart might reside somewhere far but things don't run by hea

Today when I opened the door to the roof I could feel the last night's rain all over my skin. The cuckoo was singing while perching over Gulmohar. Beautiful red flowers, which I find fiercely bright in summer's heat, looked so calm on this cool morning. I usually wonder what makes this cuckoo sing all day long.  A white feather came and settled over my palm. Whose message are you carrying today oh dear feather? I let it go with a little blow. How long can I have hold of it? People are like a feather too. You can't hold them for long. They'll go on their travel eventually.  Our love and our faith can't hold them. They don't owe us anything. If they do, then nature doesn't. A few days ago a fakeer came to me singing, I don't remember the exact words but he was saying, 'Finally bird Soar away breaking his cage, today'. His song moved me and my eyes became misty. When I offered him the money he politely refused by saying he had earned enough for the

The breeze was silent today. I tried to converse with Breeze but was of no use. Even the trees were still today. An old man passed beside me. And I could tell that he had just smoked a beedi. I looked down over my dirty sneakers. I have wandered so much on these roads that even my dreams are filled with these. I lost myself, find myself here, I fly here, I hide here, I run marathons here, in these fields. These fields are so vast that they seem to be the base for the great Himalayas. I vividly remember me and a friend were scolded for ruining someone's field. How his mother fixed it up hastily and left it to avoid a fight with nosey Aunty. How funny childhood is! Jumping over the muddy puddles after rain, socks and boots all smeared. Trying to cover your group of 8 people under two umbrellas during rain. Mangoes peeked through someone's house boundary wall. We stole them and members of that house pretended they didn't know a thing. I can never stay in a place, it's diff

'आते-जाते यायावर' (Aate Jate Yayavar; Loose translation: travelling Nomads), the title of Mannu Bhandari's story came to my mind as I watched tourists moving in to and fro on mall road. I was sipping my coffee under the grey sky. The sun was trying hard to peep through clouds but today was the day of clouds. I had just started a new chapter in the book and wanted to complete it before finishing my coffee. But I was getting distracted by my phone and also the crowd was attracting me. Their backpacks were filled with their stories.  I saw a group of friends flocking around. I saw them with longing eyes. This could be me and my friend if fate wasn't so cruel. If I wasn't suffering alone, If my friend wasn't fighting a battle. If I had not lost my cheerleader and if my friend wasn't forced to vanish in slumber. My phone rang again. Just another call from a busybody hovering around my life. Funny how everyone wants to know what am I up to but never wants to know

It's around 6 o clock in the morning. Sun hasn't risen yet. It can rise any time soon. I'm sipping my morning coffee on the terrace while the jamun's leaves are swaying happily. A family has come to live inside the leaves of this tree and I hear them chatting every morning. My book is resting on my lap and I'm in no mood of picking it up today. I can hear peacocks somewhere far. Other birds have also started chirruping. I get up and stand by the railing to look down the street. A family of four is going for the morning walk. Sometimes I wonder what will happen in their life. Whenever we meet a stranger on a bus or anywhere, I usually wonder where are they going. How will their life be different from mine? A little squirrel has come down from the tree and is now crossing the road like a king. The street cat is still napping on the top of someone's car. Sometimes I wish I was that cat. Part of me wants to form bonds and take a new step in my life while a part of m

After a long walk on June morning, I decided to rest under the shade of pines. I tied my hair in a bun as they were soaked in sweat. 'The cool shade of pines', I said under my breath. My twin joined me after some time and sat with me. We were chatting about how weird the weather is here, we feel so cold in the shade that a sweatshirt is required and the sun is so hot that we tend to sweat in tank tops. An old lady, a native of a nearby village, might be coming toward us. Her toothless lips curled up in a smile. There was shine in her wrinkled -sunburnt cheeks. She started to sing, 'ठंडी ठंडी हवा चलदी झुल्दे चिला दे डारू... ( Loose translation : with the playful pine leaves there blows a cool calming breeze). She looked at us as if wanted us to complete her song. This song wasn't new to us. Every kid from Himachal knows it. There are so many memories related to these folk songs. I could only smile at her. I tried to sing but the lyrics just stuck inside my throat. They w

This starless sky, Smoke coming out of vehicles often makes me think that those silent nights spent under the stars back in the home were way better. Home where we could spend the whole night counting stars and watching the moon. I miss those endless chats and how we used to identify the constellations. The science and mythology related to them. How those stars always stay together. We wished for staying together like those stars in Ursa major.  During monsoon nights when we tried to catch fireflies, the fragrance of jasmine had reached its peak. That sound of rain over the slate roof, the breeze coming from the direction of the mountain, a breath of fresh snow. The turning of our conversation from season to finding the meaning of love and life. You used to stress the fact that having company is a good idea while I believed in having some alone moments. No one is right or wrong in this kind of discussion. You had your experience, I had mine.  Well, that was a long time ago. Now even yo

Under the lamp post of the park, I saw two kids playing, doing rounds of it. About fifteen years ago this lamp post was brought here, to this park. Since then it has witnessed a lot. It has smeared itself in the color of Holi, bathed in rain, basked in the winter sun, covered itself under the bedsheet of snow, burned like charcoal in summer, and become a source of light for someone on Diwali. This lamp post always let the moths fly around it during the night. It took pity on them as those tiny moths might not be there tomorrow even after a few hours but the lamp post will remain there. Sometimes it serves as a resting point for birds, sometimes as a meeting point for lovers, and sometimes just a pole to make rounds like the kids doing right now.  This lamp post keeps an eye on everyone around. Everyone knows it's there but nobody acknowledges its presence. Is it even possible for nonliving things to stare? But few kids say that this lamp post stares back. It is always surrounded by

I was scrolling through social media when I realized I have started to use this little device much more than I used to in the past few months.  Some thoughts feel relevant at that moment but then with the passing days, weeks, or months, they start to lose relevance. Sometimes even after a few moments. Maybe they were not relevant at all. Is it okay if you pour them out? Is it okay to speak your mind? I'm even afraid to express them in my diary, I feel that these blank pages will judge me. I know it's ridiculous to think like this. But thoughts are thoughts. You just can't push them aside or dump them in the dustbin. To distract myself, I picked up my coffee mug from the table and threw the content of the remaining coffee in the sink. Flipped pages of a book that I'm currently reading. Useless flipping. Sometimes nothing interests me. Maybe today is that day. Day of nothingness. Day of sunlight with dew settled in heart. Half-read book stares at my face with longing eyes

Do you know  I still haven't deleted  all the recordings and grocery lists. I still have the total  of colors and paints.  Do you know  it's not that easy  to break the shackles. Oh! How much I envy those people  who are so comfortable in them  and often adore them as ornaments. Do you know  I still haven't forgotten  your eyes glimmering  with hopes and smiles. In the middle of conversations  I start to think about you dear  A sudden jerk makes  my heart skip a beat. An illusion, you want me  to wear the color of butterflies and flowers, where the space is filled with songs and dance, Where the waters are smooth  Breeze soothes  our bodies and minds  Where we are together  and happily travel. Again a jerk or roar  illusion is over  And closed is your door.  

I picked up my backpack and started my journey. Destination unknown. I never like to plan my trips much because planned trips often fail (a well-known fact). 'I can decide it while taking the bus.', I almost blurted. The moving bus, labyrinthine roads, an open window, a baby's squeals, and a mixture of different dialects and languages of unending conversations. Nothing makes sense during traveling in public vehicles except everyone is heading to some place, their place, and will get lost in this crowded world, in their world. I was welcomed by a clouded grey sky with a hint of blue in its canvas. It's the warmth of the snow that made me fight the turbulence of my heart. Soon the night would fall and I'd again creep back to bed with my book. I didn't know why I had traveled this far if the only thing I wanted to do is to read in peace. I heard two crows conversing with each other from their respective trees. 'Why can't they both just perch together to hav