Nidhi Katoch blog

 I stared at the phone screen just in the hope that today might be the day when you'll call. I hated when you were on the verge of losing your voice, but today I can pay anything to listen to that weekling voice of yours. Songs, Incomplete. Dance steps on the cold floor of winter. It was due to your phone call that I witnessed my first snowfall. The space left by you has been covered by snow. I have no energy left to pick up the snow rake. What's the need when it's just a void?  On that doomed night, even the moon was eclipsed. how was I supposed to see the light? Alas! I can't even blame anyone. The paddy fields in the mountains, that jamun tree, and eating sugarcane while relaxing on lychee branches have become a long-lost dream. The flowing stream seems to call out your name.  I still need to move the book and glasses from your bedside table. I fill your water bottle every morning and empty it every night. With you gone, words have left me too, like shade and shadow.

Last night curled up in a ball, I felt your hands trying to lift me, Oh how much I wish, That touch to be my reality, not another dream or nightmare. You know I went to that place again, the little cat still comes and waits for you. Alone, day and night, in the hope that one day you will open the door and call her Feluda. Feluda, the famous detective, the name I suggested. I'm so jealous of the little cat, her undying hope, in her sad little eyes.  The colours of the walls have faded. The longing that you had in your eyes when you touched and admired those walls haunts me. Why fill the place with colours when I was supposed to see only blue in future?  A few weeks ago, your friend called. I don't know how many times she has told me the same things about you. The excitement in her voice never made me stop her. I listened and again tried to imagine how was aspect of your life that I never got to live with you.  The alarm went off! Another night has passed! I'm just afraid tha

Sitting in the same old cafe, chipped paint, smell of books. Reminiscing the time when the last time I was here. I was fighting with mixed feelings after spitting out the facts. In the turmoil and chaos, choosing between the ways of the world or me, I chose myself. I'm wondering over time, how we sit on our couch and the next moment we are on a plane, how we just graduated high school and at the next moment we entered in the late twenties. How happily we come home from school, hug our loved ones and the next day empty house welcome us. How once I used to sleep like a baby and now the goddess of sleep is angry with me. Time… writing this piece, eating my cake, and suddenly I'm in some other city, with new people. Just now I made friends and then left them; just now the city felt like mine and then it became a stranger again. If stars are watching over us, I want to ask them where I belong. In the darkness when the shadow leaves us whose hand am I supposed to hold? There are so m