Nidhi Katoch blog

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