Nidhi Katoch blog

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...

After a long walk on June morning, I decided to rest under the shade of pines. I tied my hair in a bun as they were soaked in sweat. 'The cool shade of pines', I said under my breath. My twin joined me after some time and sat with me. We were chatting about how weird the weather is here, we feel so cold in the shade that a sweatshirt is required and the sun is so hot that we tend to sweat in tank tops. An old lady, a native of a nearby village, might be coming toward us. Her toothless lips curled up in a smile. There was shine in her wrinkled -sunburnt cheeks. She started to sing, 'ठंडी ठंडी हवा चलदी झुल्दे चिला दे डारू... ( Loose translation : with the playful pine leaves there blows a cool calming breeze). She looked at us as if wanted us to complete her song. This song wasn't new to us. Every kid from Himachal knows it. There are so many memories related to these folk songs. I could only smile at her. I tried to sing but the lyrics just stuck inside my throat. They w...

वहाँ कौन है तेरा मुसाफिर जाएगा कहाँ  ( Loose translation : Who is out there for you oh traveler! where will you go?) is being played in the neighborhood. Sunrays fall over my face. The refined heat passes through the window pane. I can see the shadow vapors rising through my hair drenched in dew. Soaking my hands and feet in my share of sunlight. I wish my thoughts could transpire like this dew on this window sill or could merge with other drops to become a coherent thought. A lot happens but nothing happens. When nothing happens a lot happens inside your mind. दम ले ले घड़ी भर ये छइयाँ पाएगा कहाँ ( better take a breath here where will you find this cool shade again) I want to convey this to my thoughts and ask them to take some rest. Lucky are those who can ask their brain to not think anything at a moment. I don't know if this thing even exists. If exists, it must be in the transcendent state. Even if I might be able to put my thoughts on hold, where is my cool shade? I...

 "परछाईयाँ रह जाती रह जाती निशानी है ज़िंदगी और कुछ भी नहीं तेरी मेरी कहानी है" (Loose translation: There remains only shadows and memories Life is nothing But story of you and mine. ) These lyrics of an old Hindi song somehow stuck in my head and I was singing them repeatedly. I looked out of the bus window, there was mist rising from the hills above. I stare at the mobile screen of my co-passenger who was sitting a seat ahead of mine. He was busy recording the scenery in his phone. 'Do these gadgets really serve complete justice to the nature's beauty?', I thought to myself. "Life is nothing But a recording of our days and nights our struggles and fights our tears and smiles. " I started to add few more verses and laugh out loud. Few eyes moved toward my direction to make me embarrass enough to shut my mouth. Who the hell am I to alter this beautiful song with my ugly verses! Sometimes I think technology has brought us all under same roof, we all have ...

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.

 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...