Nidhi Katoch blog

I watched green water moving back and forth while sitting on the shore. Fall had arrived. I felt the chill in the breeze. The sun was subtly shining. I always feel like there's a  blue hue in the cool bright mornings. I so badly wanted to pick the colours of the day and paint them on some blank canvas. I tried to understand what water was trying to say. What message was it trying to convey and for whom? Sometimes these sounds of water appear cheerful to me, sometimes sad and sometimes these are neutral as if the lake is immersed in deep thought. This water has listened to many stories and problems. It has become a partner in the loneliness of many people. It has witnessed many winnings and embraced the tears of defeat within itself.  But where does this lake share its thoughts? At night when everyone leaves for their homes, with whom does it share its emotions? When I lie down on my bed I usually hear that the lake is crying. Who is going to soothe its pain?  I was so ove...

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...

It was another day of my solo travel. I entered the cafe with my muddy boots and ordered myself a coffee. I rested my backpack on one chair and sat on another as if I was dating my backpack. Which is kind of true. I started to flip the pages of my book. Soothing music was playing in the background. The aroma of coffee was everywhere. It was quite early in the morning. There was no other customer there. I looked at the old dusty window panes. They were trodden like a heart filled with regret. We spend our whole life thinking that what if life was another way round? Whether it's regret or disappointment with life. It's difficult to decode the cryptic messages life sends to us. I think those who can understand each signal of life are saints and may become gods someday. But I have currently no mood for leaving my human side. Perfection is never gonna be celebrated. At least by me. I'm not sure about others. My thoughts were interrupted by a clang on the door. Another traveller ...

The breeze was silent today. I tried to converse with Breeze but was of no use. Even the trees were still today. An old man passed beside me. And I could tell that he had just smoked a beedi. I looked down over my dirty sneakers. I have wandered so much on these roads that even my dreams are filled with these. I lost myself, find myself here, I fly here, I hide here, I run marathons here, in these fields. These fields are so vast that they seem to be the base for the great Himalayas. I vividly remember me and a friend were scolded for ruining someone's field. How his mother fixed it up hastily and left it to avoid a fight with nosey Aunty. How funny childhood is! Jumping over the muddy puddles after rain, socks and boots all smeared. Trying to cover your group of 8 people under two umbrellas during rain. Mangoes peeked through someone's house boundary wall. We stole them and members of that house pretended they didn't know a thing. I can never stay in a place, it's diff...

'आते-जाते यायावर' (Aate Jate Yayavar; Loose translation: travelling Nomads), the title of Mannu Bhandari's story came to my mind as I watched tourists moving in to and fro on mall road. I was sipping my coffee under the grey sky. The sun was trying hard to peep through clouds but today was the day of clouds. I had just started a new chapter in the book and wanted to complete it before finishing my coffee. But I was getting distracted by my phone and also the crowd was attracting me. Their backpacks were filled with their stories.  I saw a group of friends flocking around. I saw them with longing eyes. This could be me and my friend if fate wasn't so cruel. If I wasn't suffering alone, If my friend wasn't fighting a battle. If I had not lost my cheerleader and if my friend wasn't forced to vanish in slumber. My phone rang again. Just another call from a busybody hovering around my life. Funny how everyone wants to know what am I up to but never wants to know ...

I picked up my backpack and started my journey. Destination unknown. I never like to plan my trips much because planned trips often fail (a well-known fact). 'I can decide it while taking the bus.', I almost blurted. The moving bus, labyrinthine roads, an open window, a baby's squeals, and a mixture of different dialects and languages of unending conversations. Nothing makes sense during traveling in public vehicles except everyone is heading to some place, their place, and will get lost in this crowded world, in their world. I was welcomed by a clouded grey sky with a hint of blue in its canvas. It's the warmth of the snow that made me fight the turbulence of my heart. Soon the night would fall and I'd again creep back to bed with my book. I didn't know why I had traveled this far if the only thing I wanted to do is to read in peace. I heard two crows conversing with each other from their respective trees. 'Why can't they both just perch together to hav...

I was sitting by the lake watching the birds come and go.  At some distance from me a man was looking at the lake lost in his thoughts. I tried to figure out the emotions behind his cold stare. But obviously I can't stare him for long without looking like a creep. So I decided to return to my thoughts. Wind and water were playing with each other. They were making calm music and it seemed birds were taking part in symphony. I wanted to get lost in their world. I imagined myself as light as feather only to fly freely and calmly settle down on earth. From where a child would pick me up, place me in his palm and again blew me in the air.  Never to come back but to float with wind, to play with water and to settle again in someone's palm or in the lap of earth. I looked again at the direction of that man. This time he turned his head to look at me. He waved his hand and I waved back with a smile. And we kept on sitting there, lost in our own thoughts... 

I keep on scribbling now and then, here and there. I know these can't be considered as full story or poem but I think sometimes it's okay to post them raw, as they've been written, flawed, incomplete. I'm leaving you with this kind of piece, hope you'll like it. With Love.  As I enter the room door I feel someone shuts the door behind me Whenever I turn back to see There's no one How could that possible if I feel the presence  of someone, presence of human But where is he! or she...  Unknown arms embrace me  so hard I start to suffocate  I wish to cry  Try to ask for help But my voice deceives me  My hands fall numb  Feet are paralyzed Sun has reached the horizon The unknown arms aren't ready to leave me I've stopped trying  It's ease now  I'm enjoying it  Soon with slumber  will come to me with fairies  and take me to the clouds on hthe higher world.

Bus is on fast pace. It has left the plain scenery behind and entered in hilly landscape. Trees and buildings seem to run. Running far from me, like everyone-everything else. What if flying hand comes and fall on my lap without its body! What a silly thought! I pushed this thought aside immediately. My attention is caught sometimes by terrace fields, sometimes by noise of the people, sometimes by height of mountains. With the change of scenery my thoughts are also changing. Also, thanks to roads, I'm bouncing from one thought to another like a rubber ball.  Snow clad mountains don't fascinate me anymore. I don't like the cold, fresh air, serenity and calmness. I think it's my heart which is cold. Why did I decide to come back here? I'm regretting my decision now. What else can I do now? I just have to move with flow or with bus! And here comes the rain. Now it will become very cold here. I hate cold that's why I decided to come in summers. But these are mountain...

 "We've reached, madam.", said my cabby. I opened my heavy eyelids and look outside but all I could see were the window panes covered with dew. It was a cold January morning. I glanced at my mobile to know the time. It was showing at 7:00 AM. My legs were cold and my feet were numb inside my boots. I had to make the decision, the time had come. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that or not. I didn't know what came to my mind and drew a smiley on the dewy pane. I could see a few figures moving around, Two feminine in red and blue jackets and three masculine in greys and blacks. I also saw a man roaming around and three lambs following him and waging their tails, feeding on wet brown grass. "He must be local", I thought to myself. I asked my driver to have tea from a nearby shop and wait for me until I came back. The only shop whose owner was kind enough to come at this cold hour of the morning to serve many other lost people like me. I carried my backpack ...

"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...