Nidhi Katoch blog

Do you know  I still haven't deleted  all the recordings and grocery lists. I still have the total  of colors and paints.  Do you know  it's not that easy  to break the shackles. Oh! How much I envy those people  who are so comfortable in them  and often adore them as ornaments. Do you know  I still haven't forgotten  your eyes glimmering  with hopes and smiles. In the middle of conversations  I start to think about you dear  A sudden jerk makes  my heart skip a beat. An illusion, you want me  to wear the color of butterflies and flowers, where the space is filled with songs and dance, Where the waters are smooth  Breeze soothes  our bodies and minds  Where we are together  and happily travel. Again a jerk or roar  illusion is over  And closed is your door.  

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...

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...

The body dissolved in the air, skies cried, A little kitten came here looking for her, But she doesn't  live here anymore. Blurry view, Misty vision. They say she is free now like the flow of the river  They forget even the  the flow of the river can be directed  to another direction  with the force for some time. It's impossible to stop those  who reach the clouds  through the medium of fire. Now only fireflies hover over  night blooming jasmine.

Who is with Aman? Whenever something bad happens Aman reminds himself that he can rise like a Phoenix. But for how long could he hold his tears? That child in him did not cry when he was left alone to deal with the world. That child in him didn't cry when suddenly all his choices depleted and he had to make peace with whatever was left in his little pockets. Aman has seen turning rainbows into ashes. But he never cried. Never. Aman was that abandoned child whose foster parents had once promised to always keep their blessings on him but now they've turned their faces. All his life Aman thought that he has their back.  But, in reality, he was just a way to pacify the ego of his foster parents. Aman's achievements were not making them proud but only satisfying them that their money is not wasted as they did waste on their children and their greedy relatives. After all other's kids could never become their own. Aman thought that one of them surely loves him. Thought or told...

'I went on a date with my diary.' This is a cliche I use whenever I go out alone. I was sipping my latte, some old Hollywood melody was playing in the background. Whenever I have not heard of any English song I simply call it Hollywood. It doesn't matter to me.  I took out my diary and pen and tried to scribble a bit. Scribbling when turned into doodling, doodling when turned into pricking pages, pricking when turned into tearing down the page I didn't even realise. When you have suffered from lifelong feelings of you are not allowed to be loved it often becomes hard to love people around you. First, we ignore this feeling like we don't care. It doesn't matter but somewhere, deep down in our hearts, this feeling starts to prick up. Pricking becomes digging and leaves a hole which becomes almost impossible to fill up.  Whenever I sit alone or lie on my bed every night, I ask myself what have I done wrong. I asked myself this question again. How badly I want to no...

नदी के बहाव सी,  ठण्डी बयार सी बहती, अंतर्मन में मरूस्थल से उठते तूफान को  को अनसुना करती, बरसात में इकट्ठे पानी पर कागज़ की कश्ती सी झूमती, सांझ को सूखे पेड़ की टहनी पर बैठे सूर्यास्त होने की प्रतीक्षा करते पक्षी की भांति, अपनों के चेहरे पर खोई हुई मुस्कुराहट ढूंढती मैं... English translation As there flows a river, As there blows a cool breeze, Like the desert's storm there's turmoil in my heart, I'm ignoring everything And flowing like the paper boat  in rainwater  Like a bird waiting for sunset while sitting on old tree I'm looking for smile of my loved one which has been lost somewhere.  

Aman has gotten a friend. A friend stays with him all time. There is a saying that a true friend is the one who not only sympathises with you in all the pain but also stays in the moments of happiness. And his friend does that all the time. Friend calls Aman when he wakes up every morning. Aman's nights are sleepless and he often spends his nights talking to his friend.  When a person stays with you all the time, he starts to look like you, he takes up your all habits and so do you. But this friend looks exactly like Aman. At first, when Aman saw him he became frightened. But the lack of friends and attachments made Aman befriend him. One thing Aman can not comprehend is how his friend reaches him every time, out of nowhere.  A strange thing happened today. When Aman met Sarah, his friend didn't reach there. How is it possible? Friend is always keen to know what is happening in his life but today when he was talking to Sarah there was no sign of Friend anywhere.  Sarah fe...

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...

 Dear reader, I'm taking a break from reading and writing. But I've already saved drafts of future posts here. So, the blog will get updated here from time to time. I have no idea what lies ahead, how and when will I get peace. I'm not going to bore you with my stupid rant here. Here's a poem I penned a few days ago while traveling back home. Blue skies are  no longer blue, The waters are rough, cold and of grey hue. Clouds shadowed my soul Destiny is playing foul Worms have covered my body Fairy has turned into a ghoul. I can't stop asking  for forgiveness Even when I'm already being forgiven. I don't know to whom should I turn my faith My cries, my prayers  everything seems to fade. Shall I ever get to touch  my share of rainbow and sun This non-stop rush still, noises are shunned.

 Hey Readers, I'm sitting here in the cafe, sipping my coffee. A lot had happened in the past week. It was taking a toll on my peace of mind.  If you're sad, no matter how much you try to avoid that feeling, your body starts to give you signals like headache, body ache, fast heartbeat or whatever it is. It's different for different people. I think I shouldn't carry this load on my chest anymore and move on, so here I'm leaving you with the poem I penned a night before. I'm posting the first draft, don't want to make any changes to it today.  Hope you'll like it. With Love. How can the stars burn down to ashes there were twinkling laughs once, now just memory flashes Those so-called mentors turn you down Faith in the universe too drown Hands that are always over my head why God why it feels like they are about to shed like those leaves from this  old broken tree who is bounded by the roots never going to be free There's no forgiveness in my heart and ...

Sometimes we just want to sit and cry. I know I'm being a pessimist here but isn't it true? And we want our problems or sadness to go away with the tears cascading from our eyes. Sometimes I too like to cry. We all do. Whether men or women. But not everyone wants to accept in public. There could be any reason. I'm not gonna bother my readers but I've penned down the following poem while sitting by the condensed window. I'm still carrying the curse on my weighed down shoulders, All the wounds I've nursed again become open cuts and colder. Trapped inside the circle of time Morning-Noon-Night Never-ending is this climb, Don't know what is hurting more pain in my heart or shoe bite? Surrounded by the beauty which I can't see They say they want to be like me while I've never been me. Darkness arises  flows like a river in my veins They talk about advise As if they're the only ones with shattered dreams. Have I left people or have people left me? Am I ...

"Yes! It does cause pain when they insert the syringe into the arm. But now it doesn't matter anymore. I'm just used to it. ", I heard a girl talking to a bunch of ladies. She is younger than me, might be a teenager! She is telling it so casually that people like me can never comprehend the pain she must have gone through, that she doesn't feel it anymore.  "And why are you crying so badly, little stranger? Are you afraid? Have you already sensed the pain you're about to go through? How can fate be so cruel to you? How can it be so cruel to anybody? I wish I could take your pain away. But how can I? Your parents are almost my age. Why on earth they're destined to suffer when they decided to start a family." This so-called healing place! I have to admit that healing places witness more suffering than anywhere else in the world. "Ah! I admire that you want me to have a seat, Dear Sir. But, I can't have it. In a place where people are suppo...

After a long day of labour, Uma stood with her group while waiting for bus. The smell of sweat could be felt from their group if someone passed by them. Carrying baby on her one side and empty food box on another, her feet were not supporting her properly. Wasn't body ache enough that her baby started to cry? She had built up tolerance to it after few initial setbacks. She used to lose her momentum earlier, but now she couldn't care less. Babies cry, it's their job! She was told. She put up a careless face now,  but what was going on in her head, nobody knew. What had this baby brought in her life? Pain! Another mouth to feed! She had to go to work within a week. Still she carried her baby everywhere. She wanted to lie down for a bit. She eventually did. She saw a beautiful house, full of colors, clothes like those Seths in their Kothis (rich people). She was smiling and was content. Her soul flied away, breaking the gates of material houses. There lay her body, with gleam ...