Nidhi Katoch blog

It was a winter morning. The layer of dew was settled on everything. As I stepped outside I felt the few drops falling and getting settled on my hair making it more frizzy. Every season has its own charm. Damp grass blades sticked with my boots. My phone had rung manytimes. Why this person is calling me after ten years? Leaving a kid in smog for getting lost forever, now this person wanted to meet me. I'd already forgive this person and now I wanted to forget it too. My phone rang again and I didn't pick up again.  In a panic, I tried to light up my cigarette even knowing I might be fined by a cop at any minute. I'd stopped smoking many years ago, but this years old pack is still with me. I couldn't let it go. Whenever I feel any odd emotion I pull a cigarette out and place it again in the pack without smoking. Ah! Leaving isn't hard. Hard is forgetting the feel of smoke.  I'm walking with double pace almost running. I might catch train to new place. I know runn...

' I don't think it'll rain today, 'You said to me. 'Look how the sun is shining.' I didn't make any reply. We kept on walking in that silent corridor. Occasionally one or two people passed by us. For a while I took off the mask to breathe freely and soak my face in fresh air and sunshine. 'There's the scent of old almonds here.', I said to you. But according to you it had a wet earthy scent. Every place carries a different scent. We often associate memories with fragrances. That fragrance was reminding me of an old house made of mud which had been closed for a long time and I had written my name on its wall with coal. The next day was a great spectacle like in every Indian village. Because the owner of the house who had shifted to his new pucca house, had complained at home itself. I got scolded and scolded more for showing my teeth. 'Just because you're now capable of writing your name, it doesn't mean you should show it off everywhe...

 '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...

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 ...