Nidhi Katoch blog

 Dear Aman, I'm writing to you and it's again 3 in the morning or the night. Aman, did you pick up your paintbrushes last night? Why? Because it snowed here. I witnessed the snowfall again on this hill. When the people wake up they will again carry on with their day thinking that it won't snow here anymore. It does, but they are mostly not awake. I saw the fox passing by, it stood for a while to look at me but I think I wasn't of any interest to it. It is always late at night when one sees miracles of nature. Well, when it comes to me I'm always outdoors, you know it right? A house, bamboo, and tea garden in front of that orphaned house. Do you still live there? Why do we have so much attachment to things, places or people? Look at me, so far away, still thinking about you. I tried to detangle the bunch of rice lights but in vain. There's a knock at the door, maybe from a friend. He will change the date of the calendar and then will move to the kitchen. I know o...

 I tossed the books, and made space for myself in my bed, Thinking I’ll clear this mess the next day, knowing very well, that I won't do it. I picked up my phone, a few texts from my friend about what was I up to and that I needed to call him back. I opened the list of things I need to buy for the week. Scrolling through the phone mindlessly, wasting a few hours, and then throwing it on the bed. I stared at the ceiling and tossed myself toward the window, the curtain had slightly moved toward the left, giving the path to moonlight to enter the room. Again that time of night when it becomes difficult to ignore my emotions.  For once I wanted them to see the world through my eyes, for once if they would have understood me. For once. A distorted figure. Blood and Tears.  Ashes and smoke. Charred bones. My letters. That nauseous, suffocating smell. Blood and Tears. It felt like the walls were coming closer and closer, soon these walls would merge with the Window. The blue cur...