Nidhi Katoch blog

 I stared at the phone screen just in the hope that today might be the day when you'll call. I hated when you were on the verge of losing your voice, but today I can pay anything to listen to that weekling voice of yours. Songs, Incomplete. Dance steps on the cold floor of winter. It was due to your phone call that I witnessed my first snowfall. The space left by you has been covered by snow. I have no energy left to pick up the snow rake. What's the need when it's just a void?  On that doomed night, even the moon was eclipsed. how was I supposed to see the light? Alas! I can't even blame anyone. The paddy fields in the mountains, that jamun tree, and eating sugarcane while relaxing on lychee branches have become a long-lost dream. The flowing stream seems to call out your name.  I still need to move the book and glasses from your bedside table. I fill your water bottle every morning and empty it every night. With you gone, words have left me too, like shade and shadow....

Last night curled up in a ball, I felt your hands trying to lift me, Oh how much I wish, That touch to be my reality, not another dream or nightmare. You know I went to that place again, the little cat still comes and waits for you. Alone, day and night, in the hope that one day you will open the door and call her Feluda. Feluda, the famous detective, the name I suggested. I'm so jealous of the little cat, her undying hope, in her sad little eyes.  The colours of the walls have faded. The longing that you had in your eyes when you touched and admired those walls haunts me. Why fill the place with colours when I was supposed to see only blue in future?  A few weeks ago, your friend called. I don't know how many times she has told me the same things about you. The excitement in her voice never made me stop her. I listened and again tried to imagine how was aspect of your life that I never got to live with you.  The alarm went off! Another night has passed! I'm just afraid t...

Sitting in the same old cafe, chipped paint, smell of books. Reminiscing the time when the last time I was here. I was fighting with mixed feelings after spitting out the facts. In the turmoil and chaos, choosing between the ways of the world or me, I chose myself. I'm wondering over time, how we sit on our couch and the next moment we are on a plane, how we just graduated high school and at the next moment we entered in the late twenties. How happily we come home from school, hug our loved ones and the next day empty house welcome us. How once I used to sleep like a baby and now the goddess of sleep is angry with me. Time… writing this piece, eating my cake, and suddenly I'm in some other city, with new people. Just now I made friends and then left them; just now the city felt like mine and then it became a stranger again. If stars are watching over us, I want to ask them where I belong. In the darkness when the shadow leaves us whose hand am I supposed to hold? There are so m...

Last evening when I reached my place, I lay on my bed without changing. I scrolled the internet for a while and watched some short 15-second videos which were an utter waste of time. I came out of my room and started to walk on the terrace. The rustle of leaves was in sync with the hymn in my mind.  I saw a flock of migratory birds flying from one direction to another. Even the birds know when and where they are valued and when they should move to another place. Rivers change their course after a period, winds change their direction, bears hibernate, and fishes leave the watershed.  With thousands of thoughts in my mind, I came inside, refreshed myself and made myself a hot cup of tea. I picked up my diary and soaked the sun peeping through my window. A kitten came to sit on the window out of nowhere. I didn't disturb him at all. I don't want to get attached to him only to leave this place and make him wait for me at this window without any hope. Hope is a weird thing, either ...

I was roaming on the rooftop at night blowing rings of smoke. Oh, these late hours when I can't make up my mind if should I sleep or wait for morning to see the sun. I checked the call logs. Not a single call was there. There's not going to be any.  I scrolled the internet only to throw away my phone. I swore loudly. What a relief! The full moon scattered its light all over the place. I could see those rings rising clearly in that light. I kind of felt bad for smoking again. I stubbed my cigarette under the shoe. I tried to enjoy nature like I used to before. But inspiration wasn't there. I've been travelling a lot for the past few years. And those shards again renew my wound the moment I return to my place again. Why doesn't the sky ever become black here? I cursed the place again. But who was I to blame? I'd chosen to come here. Now I'd to collect the mess I'd made of myself. Isn't it the fun of making your decision, that you own your mistakes with...

Bathing under the moonlight, when I looked above at the stars my feet started to move themselves and my arms embraced the wind and started to move like a slow wave. I felt a hand holding my hand and our feet moved in sync with the beat of crickets and the rustle of leaves. I heard someone playing the drums but I couldn't get whether it was the beats of my heart or the person holding my hand. Whether it was a person or just a shadow or just me. I didn't know.  There was a tranquillity in the air. I don't remember the day when I danced so peacefully. The rose on the hair was blooming. My dress was flowing with the moves of my body. The dangling of earrings, the tinkling of bangles, and my broken anklet, everything seemed to be in place for a moment.  The coldness of the floor was now reaching out all over my body, and the stillness of the night was now trying to put a hold on my moves. A voice was trying to tell me something but words were so much jumbled. Then they fainted w...

Today when I opened the door to the roof I could feel the last night's rain all over my skin. The cuckoo was singing while perching over Gulmohar. Beautiful red flowers, which I find fiercely bright in summer's heat, looked so calm on this cool morning. I usually wonder what makes this cuckoo sing all day long.  A white feather came and settled over my palm. Whose message are you carrying today oh dear feather? I let it go with a little blow. How long can I have hold of it? People are like a feather too. You can't hold them for long. They'll go on their travel eventually.  Our love and our faith can't hold them. They don't owe us anything. If they do, then nature doesn't. A few days ago a fakeer came to me singing, I don't remember the exact words but he was saying, 'Finally bird Soar away breaking his cage, today'. His song moved me and my eyes became misty. When I offered him the money he politely refused by saying he had earned enough for the ...

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...

Hey all,  It's raining here for third or fourth day or centuries. This made me sit down and write blog, while sipping my masala chai (as friends from West say Chai Latte). It works wonders if you've cold. I had talked about my writing slump in one of the previous posts. There are numerous incomplete draft. Today I've tried to come out of this.  Here's a raw piece of poetry, which I'd scribbled in the early hours of morning. I hope you'll like it. The humidity in the air shirts cling to bodies,  moving for their dears from dark potholes to bright lobbies. How the color of skin changes with path, place, time When shadows come out of the wall, leap over to hymn,  to the temple of lost dreams. Clouds are gathering moving in circular motion,  rain will fall over the ashes,  will lead to the corrosion.  But how much one can damage the already damaged iron. None of the ointment are going to work Neither can carry the disappointment nor can pull off the smirk....

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 ...

All three of us were having coffee in the cafe and were laughing at something. But my eyes were only following you. I looked at your face, 'How happy you are today!' I thought to myself, as if trying to convey my message through my mind.  I knew that the day after tomorrow you'd be home and I would remain here. Stagnant! Oh! How much I wanted to follow you like I used to do when I was a child. I had never felt so jealous of kids, the way I felt today. Kids can cry anywhere, at any moment, while we adults are supposed to behave. I wanted to hold you but I didn't. I knew you would get to know my feelings even with my single touch. This could make you sad, more than me. I didn't want to take that risk. After all, You're Mother! Far more experienced and smart than me.  I turned my gaze to my twin. I wondered if she was thinking the same! Our eyes met and she nodded with a small smile. I nodded back and became a part of the conversation again.

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...

I was browsing the bookstore when I felt a pang of loneliness. I knew this feeling would leave me soon. After all, I didn't visit the bookstore alone. The noise of people started to irritate me like the buzz of a housefly in my ear. I shut my ear with my hands to block that buzz from coming toward me. Everything stopped but my heartbeat.  Who on earth has ever been successful in deceiving his own heart? I shut my eyes. But still I could see that my heart was increasing in size constantly. It was becoming bigger and bigger and started to pop out of my body. There came a point when it burst into a thousand pieces. Those pieces fell in every direction, some pieces decided to hang in the air. A few people came forward to collect those pieces as if those were some precious metal. Some tried to place them in their voids. Some tried to swallow those.  I was standing there, alive, wondering why they were so greedy? Greedy or needy? I could see a part of me in them.  I felt like e...

 "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 ...

 '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...

I tried to write few verses or sentences but words didn't pop in my head. I wanted to write and tell so many things but words didn't form a understandable and socially acceptable sentence. It felt like the ink in my pen had been frozen. To add to the gloom sun wasn't up. If someone asks me what I don't like about winters, I would say rising of sun after 8 or 9 in the morning. I knew that I won't be able to write this morning again. So, I decided to leave my diary at peace. I walked out of the house nearly 11 of the morning. I came out of the gate and a stray cat ran inside another gate. 'There are so many cats here',I heard myself saying. I walked across the park saw two boys playing badminton in purely wrong way. 'Those teenagers might be brothers. ', I said in my head while observing their facial similarities.  I crossed the park and move ahead to road. Don't know for how many times I'd passed through this road. I walked in fast pace, which...

'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...

So, Tell me how do you feel when you see me smiling?  They think that I'm happy,  maverick, spoiled, beguiling.  Do you think the same, when you hear my name?  You know me since the day we gained consciousness,  I was looking for sun rays in my cloudy trodden shed,  And you were bathing  under the sun And Having fun!  When I took out my  old white sheet of paper  filled it with my choice of colors,  Because I wasn't allowed to enjoy the summer. You know me since inception You know my tears, fears and how I faced deception.  Tell me, Do you  really want to put yourself in my shoe? Tell me...

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 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.