Nithya K's Blog, page 2

Under the Smoke of Urma

My name is Kaheya, daughter of the forgotten tribe of the Yalava. In New York, I am called by my anglicized name, Cathy.

We were mountain-dwellers once—spirit-whisperers, salt-keepers, and fire-bakers. But now, I live in a matchbox apartment in a city that doesn’t sleep, married to a man who speaks in fluent French, but not a word of my mother’s tongue.

I returned to Urma—our ancestral village—after thirteen years. The call came one grey morning. Grandmother was dying. “Come,”...

Tryst with Death

I won’t lie. I am shocked by the terrorist attacks in Pahalgam, and I just can’t stop thinking about it.

Today, my heart is with Pahalgam — not just the breathtaking valley we all know, but the people, the families, the lives that have been forever altered by yesterday’s horrific attack.

Twenty-eight lives lost. Twenty-eight dreams were silenced in a place known for its quiet beauty and gentle skies. All gathered in this peaceful corner of the world, perhaps seeking joy, or rest, or w...

Sixteen

Ever heard this song?

I used to memorize the lyrics of this song and many others when I was sixteen. Back then, Bollywood ruled our minds. It controlled how we viewed relationships – with peers, with boys, parents, relatives, everybody. Reactions somewhere matched some film or the other.

I was crazy for this song. And Kamal. I wanted a lover like him to manifest in my life. I wanted to be like Rati, who would write her lover’s name on the walls. I was pretty ambitious that way. Actu...

Reels

Kid returned early today and decided to take a nap on my lap. I was working on an important presentation when she crashed. Quickly realizing, there was no way I could get both hands on the laptop to even make progress, I took a break.

It turned out to be a 1-hour break. I got hooked on watching senseless, silly reels on Insta. One reel, especially, was designed more like clickbait, was about how a north indian guy (Some random guy called Navreet Kapoor, a real estate agent!) keeps abusing so...

Queens

I’ve always been fascinated by queens—not the royal kind draped in velvet and rubies, but the everyday kind who rule over messy kitchens, late-night phone calls, and impossible Mondays. The ones who carry invisible burdens like they’re wearing silk, and somehow manage to laugh like nothing’s broken.

The first queen I ever knew was my grandmother, and she didn’t stitch blouses or own a shop. She didn’t run any kind of business, unless you count running a house with seven children on a sing...

Positive all the time?

Have you seen people who jump out of bed with a smile? They eagerly wait for the sun to rise, sometimes overtake it, and beat the rush. Their overenthusiasm is sometimes so infectious, you inadvertently start mimicking them.

I feel there should always be a balance when it comes to emotions. Positive, negative, somewhere in between. We should be able to feel every type of emotion. Hanging on to any one type spells doom. You tend to get typecast.

In my mind, it is somewhat like the fo...

Outsourced

It was raining cats and dogs. Rashmi kept staring outside the window, trying to avoid the water droplets that sneaked in, attracted by the warmth inside the house. Rajeev walked in with a cup of hot chocolate, the only drink Rashmi was allowed in her advanced state of pregnancy. The doctor had warned her against getting stressed. Just this morning, Rashmi had given an earful to her house help for not cleaning the corners properly. Krishna, her help, had hung her head and left without saying ...

New Neighbors

I live in a very old-style building. It was built by Vantage Builders ages ago, when Besant Nagar had many lovely trees and was less populated. Nowadays, wherever you turn, you bump into a human.

I liked the emptiness better.

In my building, there are just 15 flats. Nearly all the occupants are elderly people, needing canes and walkers to get around. We are an oddity. A middle-aged couple with an overactive toddler. We rarely mix with the other occupants. Not because we don’t want to...

Mohit

Mohit checked his skin in the full-length mirror for the 100th time. It was time to go. He was not 100% happy with the new cream the Kirana store uncle had thrust on his face, assuring him of 200% results.

Savitri Bhongade called out from the kitchen, “Mohit, get ready quickly. We must leave the house before 10 a.m.”

Mohit heard his mom’s distraught voice and noted her worry. She wanted him to settle. A wife. A couple of kids in a few years. A new house. A bigger car. She dreamt of preen...

Let the Sleep Fairy In

There’s something deeply satisfying about waking up feeling truly rested. Not groggy, not reaching for coffee before your eyes open—just clear, calm, and ready. I didn’t always know that feeling. For years, I treated sleep like a negotiable part of my day. Work, family, chores—everything came first. Sleep was what happened if there was time left.

Things started to change when my daughter, Tara, was born. Like most new parents, I was exhausted at first, but as she grew older, I wanted to s...