Nidhi Katoch blog

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...

 I was scribbling my dairy while sitting on the balcony, adoring the great Himalayas in front of me. I could hear the one or two hoots of villagers, now and then. The sun was smiling all over the valley. My coffee was getting cold but I wanted to put down my thoughts at once.  Some nights just went by in the blink of an eye, and we kept wondering why are we stuck here. To be truthful, stagnation is a curse. We get stagnant but the Earth never stops revolving around the sun. It makes us anxious and usually makes us wonder if whatever we are doing is worth it.  When morning knocks at our door, we don't want to rise with the sun, don't want to go on with the time. The emotions in us choke us, but we still wake up. Fake a brave face and lovely smiles. And when the day ends we realize that waking up was not a waste, that fake smile turned into a real one. So, only standing up isn't a bad idea after all.  I have no idea what is ahead, nor do I have a plan. But if the day w...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

'I'm here! in the balcony.', I answered back to my mother. She asked me if I'd slept last night and I answered her again with yes. It seemed more like yelling than answering. The whole street would have heard us. It was a cold Sunday morning. The sun had just risen and was spreading its calm hue on the dull street. I'd always liked to welcome the morning sun with a cup of Chai. It had always cheered me up. But now, everything has changed. Or I've changed? Who knows? How will anybody know? I'm the one who built so high walls around myself, that nobody would ever be able to cross them.  I tried to bore my head in the book but in vain. I looked down below the street, a granny was taking her twin grandchildren for a walk. The kids were in the cradle. Unaware of the world, in their realm. A pair of sparrows were flocking around. A teenager was going to the temple, as it was his board year. I saw my mother feeding the neighbour's dog who is now her morning wal...

The carpet of pale leaves is lying on the ground. I'm listening to the rumble of leaves. These old-pale leaves are leaving their place to be filled by new ones. Don't these old leaves feel bad that soon they will be crushed by someone? Don't they realize they are nothing more than trash on these busy roads? Who can understand the cycle of life more than them? Aren't we like these leaves? Doesn't our life resemble the life of these leaves? Useless, detached, thrown when our season ends. Don't know why I'm feeling sad for these leaves. Pessimism doesn't leave us so easily. But I also believe Optimism and pessimism go hand in hand. I should see the positive side, because with the fall of those old leaves I can see more green ones, more space for new unborn leaves. More flowers on trees. After all, March is the month of warmth and flowers. Month of endings and preparation of new beginnings. Maybe I should also shed my grudges, my anger, my overthinking and w...