Nidhi Katoch blog

'I've seen the ghost of Aruna', said my neighbor to his friends. I have been hearing these rumors for the last six months. I know these are just rumors, not the truth because the way they describe the ghost they've seen is vague. Neither I've been of slender figure nor I like the white color. People give my description as a ghost that resides in their heads.  The first two days were difficult to accept the fact I'm not a living person anymore. What they've done to my body, I don't know. Neither I'm interested to know. After living my life alone for long 45 years, one day I felt a pain in my chest. I don't think I need to tell you what happened after that. All I know is now people can't see me. Those who say they've seen are either lying or are too much afraid of ghosts. Women who had lived alone their whole life always remained an issue of discussion for people of her eccentric nature, her sudden death (although natural) is enough for the...

"Such a dreary night !" I thought while a cold breeze passed through my face. I was waiting at the bus stop to catch the last bus to my home. It is my daily routine to go home at this time. I was traveling alone that night. There were hardly 8-9 passengers. They were all engrossed in the Television which was playing old Punjabi songs. I'm always clueless about where am I heading. Yes, I don't know where my home is. I board different buses every night to find my town, my home.  But that night was different. I knew where my home was. I eagerly wanted to reach there. I saw the moon following the bus from outside. It seemed cold and sad, without any company. I'm not a "window lover" kind of traveler. I enjoy observing people, and their activities by sitting in the corner of the room. But that night I was just not interested. Bus reached the intersection of four roads. I saw a truck coming from the opposite side of my window. Then it was all blank.  I was fee...

The habit of reading keeps me awake for hours.  It is not that I only read, sometimes it's my heart that keeps me awake. I try to comprehend the meaning of life or what do these dogs try to say to each other? I don't usually switch on the lights in my room. During the day it's the sunlight that fills my whole room and during the night thanks to my gram panchayat for the street lamp in front of my window.  Like any other day, I was reading at my desk, facing the open window. It was a moonless summer night, dark and gruesome. I heard the shrill cries. At first, I thought of cats. But that was a strange sound, I haven't heard before. I got up and peeked out of the window. The sight nearly took my heart to the mouth. I could feel the lump in my throat.  I saw the shadow of a hand floating on the ground. But where was the body? It intrigued me. Then I realized that the shadow is falling opposite my window but that was not my hand. As I could see the shadow of three hands, tw...

It was two O'clock when my sleep broke suddenly, just after half an hour. The rice lights on my book rack was illuminating the whole room. It was late spring night. I could hear the song of nightingale. Since, I'm not a sound sleeper anymore like I used to before, during my teenage, I got up from my bed and pick up the book to read without switching on the light. I placed it on my table and switched on my table lamp. I sat on the position facing window.  It was nearly five thirty when my eyes felt heavy. I decided to sleep for a while. I lay on my bed and closed my eyes. The owl which often sits on the street light outside my window, I heard its hooting. My mother opened the door of my room to ask me to wake up. I told her about my sleeplessness and slept again. I felt the third foot under my feet and hand on shoulder. Something was holding me. There were limbs but not body! It sent chill down my spine. I tried to switch on the light but couldn't find the switch. I was not ...

The whole vale is covered with mirk, Moon lit night with the hint of mist,  I wake up by the sudden jerk, crying cats and dogs' howls resist me to go back to the sleep, I want to look out through my window  and to stop these weeps, My throat is choked and a shadow  on the wall, the moonlight fills the room, but I can't follow. My brain and body are not coordinating, Why am I calling unknown names,  in some trodden old lanes? Blood comes out from my broken veins,  There's somebody in the flames. Now, I open my eyes  to find my heart is about to break the walls of my chest, But the cicadas song is very kind. I just count some odd numbers,  That's enough to lost  again in the world of slumber. 

In winter mornings, the fields are usually covered with white sheet of dew which gives the impression of snow. It was a chilly morning. Upper hills had got heavy snowfall. I decided to not open the window of my room. I could hear the song of saint and his harmonium. Boys who play basketball had left for their practice. I was still curled inside my quilt. With eyes wide open I was staring at the dark walls of quilt.  Suddenly there rose an urge to drink tea. Tea is a kind of addiction that one can't left so easily. I raised from the bed and switched on the light. When I came out of the room, I felt a hand holding my shoulder. I could not turn my head to see. Something was stopping me from heading further. That invisible hand pulled my arm and slammed me to the wall.  I at once opened my eyes and found myself on my bed. I was still curled inside my quilt and still had an urge to drink tea.

Raindrops falling from the sky Entering through the slate roof, Drenching my bed and whole room On that black night My house is standing aloof. Roaring of winds And clash of window panes, Through which one can See the dark lonely lane. Room lit by a candle flame, And sudden fall of photo frame. Thunderous sound and lightening clouds Make that old dry tree visible Ah! this Breathless panic of rain, There flashes a white lady With Cold blood stain.