Nidhi Katoch blog

It was a summer night of June. I was walking on the terrace. A shower of rain had made the night humid as well. My whole body was smeared with petrichor. I wished for once everything would stop. These constantly moving vehicles on the lane below and those irritating sounds of fifteen second videos which were coming from the terrace of another building attached to ours. Sometimes I start to hate these videos serving us the entertainment we don't even ask for, we don't really want (and definitely I don't really need). Like every other person, I'm also guilty of recording and binge watching these videos. It's hard to ignore them as much as it's hard to stop inhaling the pollutants of the environment. The only way I could think of peace was to turn on my headphones. But music wasn't able to put me at ease. I failed to find something interesting to read on my phone. Then I decided to let the thoughts come to me and go. Whenever I can't control the situations ...

I'm weaving a story. The number of hitting backspace has surpassed the number of words written. I'm agitated, I think. I'm thinking, thinking hard but there's hardly any scenario I can remember. I usually twist real life incidents by my imagination and give them shape of fiction. Sometimes my writings are just rage or disappointment. Disappointment usually takes the shape of rage. I hate this word Rage. I hate the word Hate. I don't like these words but still practice them in real life.  Again I hit the backspace, this time I hit it so hard that whatever I wrote get erased. It seems that weaver needs rest. But why? When are we ever allowed to rest? How hard we might try to present our progressive mindset but the reality is we don't ever leave our backward thinking. By backward, I mean we judge others through the lenses of prejudice. What our family/ societal environment inculcate in us, it's hard to get rid of that. We want to be modest, or atleast want them...

  "What's more heavenly than steaming hot coffee after spicy momos? " I asked my twin who was still waiting for her coffee to cool down a little. "Maybe a piece of cake! " She replied jokingly. After this talk, we kept quiet for a while. It was a nice day to sit under the sun. A perfect day to soak the warmth in our hearts which had been turned cold while walking among the crowd.  "Why are we sitting here?" "Because we are seeking escape." "Is it wrong to do?" "No." "So why does it feel wrong?" "Because we're trained to feel so." "Should we part our ways? " "We never need to part ways to do different things." "Are you trying to say we are right?" "I'm not saying we are right. But all I know is We are NOT wrong." I didn't know where was this conversation heading, neither she. We kept on talking for a while in that way and fell silent again. "Let...

After being fed on silver spoon you talk about state of mind,  But do you ever realise the person out there can't even afford that?  The heaps of gold you waste  on your trash, and tag it as diamond,  I want to ask you when will you remove this humbug from your soul?  You say you own the light,   Oh thief you're the one who stole it  from the moth who flies around it during night.   You vaunt about your privileged fights,   but you're merely robbers  who rob the  fragile flower's   pride and rights.