Nidhi Katoch blog

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...