Nidhi Katoch blog

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...

The mist spread and covered the view, Touching the tips of trees and embracing them. The whole town, down the hill, seems to be drowned in mist. Mist comes more forward, passes throw my skin and moves ahead of me to the far place. Today is Wednesday, not many people come here on weekdays. When I reached here and sat on the bench there was only one older man who was sitting here, who might be contemplating his life.  I've taken out my phone, to write something. Thanks to modern technology. You can't carry a notepad or a diary with you in public spaces or with family and friends, everyone starts to get interested in your diary. But when there is a phone in your hand they'll simply assume you are chatting with someone. Cool! Isn't it? You can also pretend you have a lot of friends to chat with ( just a stupid way to see things). I know I'm not a very interesting person to chat with.  I've hardly typed a few sentences because a weird thought is bothering me that I m...

'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...

A little sparrow came to my window today. It's been a while since I've seen a bird so closely or maybe it's me who has stopped noticing these little delights around me. These house sparrows are so rare to find in cities, after watching this bird I started to miss home. However, even there now their number has reduced. How easy it has become for me to ignore things around me! Now I mostly forget to observe strangers. I don't like to talk. I'm just running wild (obviously in my mind). And this running is leading me nowhere.  This little sparrow felt like a message to look around, to hear the music around me, to feel the morning sun and enjoy the summer blooms. When I opened the window, it flew away. Happy and free in the vast sky of endless possibilities.  

I saw the white Bougainvillea vine on the rear gate of someone's  house and ran toward it to click a photograph. This is what we, the slaves of technology do. We first click the picture and then praise the beauty around us. Yeah! I'm ranting like those people who constantly nag about the cons of technology and can't live without it for a moment. After all, it's this internet access which has allowed me to share my thoughts with people all around the world. Then I started  to ask my friend to try different angles to get a perfect picture of me with that vine. Yet the best picture was the one with my back on camera, which I'll share under the hashtag of summer aesthetic. Flowers have always been the part of our lives. From literature to temples, from greetings to the gift to loved ones, from our birth to doom, flowers walk with us. These little petals of colors fill our lives with colors. We compare the smile of our love with the blooming flower and our sorrow with un...

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...

 'There's a musty smell here', said my sister. I nodded in agreement. The paint was crumpled from place to place. The damp walls of that old building were the proof that sunlight hardly enters there except through a window on corridor that too only in evening. The whole place was surrounded by pines and monkeys. Since, the hall was filled with people I decided to stand by the window. I walked through the hall pretending I'm on call. I've always been fascinated by windows. No matter whatever the view is! Sunrays were kind enough to fall over my head. I peek outside the window, all I could see was trees, trees and trees. I started to hum and few lines of Sara Teasdale's poem came to my mind- "But why do the pines on mountain's crest Call to me always, "Rest, rest"? " I've a deep relationship with pines. They remind me of my transition from a teenager to an adult. How I fell in love, how I lose friends, how I experienced my first, no sec...

In winter the dew settles on window panes and starts to slide down slowly to settle on the window sill. The first ray of sun has kissed the dew on window panes and I've started to think of you.  Sometimes I like to pretend that you're sitting beside me and we're talking to each other. I know you're just a call away but imagination is the best way to pour your heart out.  I'll ask questions and we both will agree on the same conclusion. Today I'll talk, cry and laugh then I'll leave everything according to your advice. I know you're always worried about my habit of not saying hello to my neighbor, or not meeting any relative or friend. We might not agree on an issue as I used to before. Today I'll assure you I'm still the same old me for you and for every friend who's silently supporting me. With the passage of time, I might have changed but you're still my comfort. I still think of you whenever I feel lonely. I'll assure you I'm n...

When we reached the restaurant, it was pretty empty. We decided to take seat on their terrace. 'The sweater season is here.', I remarked to which my sister asked, 'Which season isn't sweater season here? ' She's right in hills you only need couple of hours of rain.  It was sunny today. A perfect weather to uplift my mood. I decided to soak the sun and have little walk on the roof as there was enough space. In one corner a couple was chatting. I glanced at their side for few seconds, there were two glasses on their table and half filled bottle of beer.  I stop by the edge of roof and took the stand of railing, facing toward north. Below there were few vehicles, localites were moving to and fro for their day to day work. There was an occasional honking of horn. When I looked straight there were mountains.Clouds had covered the upper range. 'Mountains from where I always try to run away.', I thought.  'Why on earth food isn't coming? What's taki...

The fan swirling on the ceiling, the clock showing the wrong time and the closed window are all causing suffocation in me. In the stillness of night sky is numb, only clouds are weeping silently. Tonight even clouds don't want to be heard or seen. They just want to cry, cry alone, without any distrubance. Perhaps that's why clouds have decided to rain during night when there's no one in the street, who can curse them or feel happy for rain. 'Am I really child of this universe? Do I really belong to this world? There's something constantly breaking inside me.' How many times we've asked these questions from ourselves. When we don't find any answer, we crave for escape. This escape sometimes (in my case many times) flows from our eyes. Like these clouds outside. The positivity that lies in the chore of our hearts sometimes clashes with negativity which clouded  our mind, body and soul. There raises battle cry and lightening which illuminates our path. But ...

I've placed my study table in front of the window so that I can spend my morning hours there. Sometimes I brood over past, think about future or just live in the present without any thought. Today when I sat writing my words, my hand started to tremble. The sky was clouded, dark clouds, it was going to rain soon. I got up to take my blanket and covered my self completely before sitting on chair again. I tried to write two- three sentences but words were not coming to me. Neither I forced them to come. I started to look outside. Mother brought me a cup of tea and placed it on the window sill. A bird who usually sings from the clump of the vine in front of neighbor's fence was also silent today. Only faint cries of crickets were there. 'Soon there will be rain and everything will be washed. Every potholes will be filled. But it's temporary. When sun rises every broken thing filled by rain becomes empty. Sun is the source who tells us these potholes needed to be repair, th...

 I was lying under the winter sun on a charpai (cot/ traditional bed). Thinking about random things my eyes suddenly met with spotted owlet who was also staring back with full intensity. Earlier I used to think it lives alone here. But after witnessing the pair once or twice I came to believe that no one can survive here alone. It's the rule of nature.  But the stare of owlet felt spooky even in broad daylight. Bamboos were dancing with the wind true to their nature making an occasionally loud noise. And here this owlet instead of looking for its food was staring at me.  Being a person who can easily avoid eye contact with anyone was feeling difficult to avoid those round black eyes. They seemed like two black dots on yellow balls. 'Why is it staring at me? I haven't intruded into its personal space. Is it the same owlet whom I hit with a small pebble when I was 8? How come I remember this detail? Is it possible that these eyes are hypnotizing me to remember everything? S...

 It was at a time when April was about to come and March was nearing its end. The spring afternoon, we were lazily swinging in the garden under the shade of mango trees. Light gusts of wind were caressing our bodies occasionally. Mango trees were in full bloom. The echo of the cuckoo sitting on a nearby tree, the humming of bees, water pouring over grass and flowers through sprinklers, all were reciting poetry of nature. I had just finished talking about the saga of mango tree in my home yard. How it used to bear sweet fruit and how it stopped bearing after it struck by lighting in previous year's rains.  "You always have story to tell.", You smiled.   "Everyone carries a big lot of stories within oneself, but not everyone has words to express. If few lucky people have words then they won't get listeners or friends who would show interest in these type of silly stories."  We chatted for sometime and there was silence once again, like in the beginning, there ...

I was sitting on the wooden roof of the cafe, trying to comprehend the meaning of my life. I heard a human voice from the sky and looked upward. While paragliding people looked like birds flying in the sky, as if they own the sky. As humans we always want to fly, free and wild. To break my chain of thoughts and to amuse myself, I started observing others in the cafe. A group of teenage girls was occupied in gossiping. "Why can't they just sit and enjoy the scenery? ", I remarked. A man in his early twenties, with a camera in his hands, was clicking pictures of hills. " A fine, sunny day to take pictures, but what's the use of beautifying something that is already beautiful? " I said in my mind, "But that's not of my concern. I'm doing the same thing here judging others and ignoring beauty. " I could feel the sting of jealous and contempt in my thoughts.  Mid day sun was up and it's warmth melted the snow settled in my heart. Two childre...

I was lying on the bench with my head resting on your lap, when I captured this photo. It was the breezy noon of October.The aroma of tea from nearby tea stall filled our surroundings. The blue sky and the pale-green leaves of trees were making the view more beautiful. I mused how in childhood, we used these leaves as currency, which could buy every happiness in our small world.  The leaves were swinging along with the breeze. It seemed as if they wanted to flow with the wind. But they didn't not know that they wouldn't be able to go far after getting rid of the tree.  Only a few moments of flying in the air then they would fall to the ground and lose their being. I noticed one pale leaf was coming to us from its twig. But you held it in your palm before it fell and put it in one of the books that we had bought from the roadside stall.  I realised some leaves don't lose their existence but stay forever as a token of memory in the hearts of people, the way this photo will ...

I was having my breakfast on the table by side of window. Sun rays were peeping inside from behind the tree. One or two rays felt pity on my loneliness and decided to come inside to give me company during my breakfast. I could see the thousands of dust particles in those sun rays. Few particles settled on my mobile screen, which was lying on table for not more than two minutes.  A little dust might have dissolved in coffee. I was constantly watching the silently dancing particles. Dancing or running? I don't know! I felt like I'm one of them, Speck of dust, dancing altogether yet alone. Dancing on the music whose lyrics are ineffable, rhythm which is lost in far hills, which has no intro and ending. I'm a speck of dust who's afraid she'll be lost somewhere in this loop named World.   I was distracted by the voice of kid outside on the street who was asking his friends to wait for him. He was on his foot while his friends were on bicycle. But when they didn't hea...

 Pc- Atul Bhandari We were sitting on the roof of our home. It was the month of December and the sky was clear. Clouds were scattered here and there, mountains had got their first snowfall. Under the sun, you were busy with your plants and I was reading my book half heartedly. My mind was revolving around you. I picked up my dairy and wrote,  Long ago in the land of pines,  Two hearts like parallel lines,  which they thought weren't  meant for each other, smiled.  In the month february love sprout between them and bloomed like a flower in the month of spring.  The flower kept blooming in summer, rains, winter and autumn,  Despite of every storm and heat it didn't withered.  Now it's the twilight, the flower is old,  the gust of wind came to carry the seeds and place them in  the land of young hearts.  I stopped writing and looked at you. You were not there. And my poem again remained incomplete without you. 

The sun of hope rises,  Along the grey clouds, brings shower,  Fall on the grass blades,  Sunlight and rain dance together, The young birds are learning to sing,  feed and how to fly,  Petrichor rises and filled  the whole surroundings,  The view of Rainbow on the northern sky is astounding.  The earth bathe in colors and the flowers of love bloom. 

The downpour from the grey sky  drenched the whole earth,  The drops settled on the leaves And the trees stand still.  I came out of my house to feel the damp air on my skin,  the droplets on the grass,  beneath my feet.  Childhood memories screened  before my eyes,  when we played cricket under the shade of mango tree,  Whether the sun or the shower it protected us like mother,  Previous monsoon, it struck by the  lightning from the sky,  shielded house from the thunder,  It is still standing tall,  for my wonder.  I shook the lower branch of tree and the raindrops fell over me,  As if it was showering Love on me. 

Why are you so angry, dear wind,  Throwing tantrums on us,  Our fields are on verge of harvesting,  My dalhia is experiencing its first summer,  You pair up with clouds And bring heavy showers and hail,  Can't you hear the little plants' wail?  You come with thunder,  when sky is grey,  on the other side of the vale,  falls the sun's first ray, You left us wondering,  What just happened?  You left us with broken leaves and crushed flowers,  And made us realise,  Sunrise is always beautiful after the darkness of war. Pc- Atul Bhandari