Nimupedia Stories

  I hadn’t been to my village in over six years. The last time I stood on that dusty path leading to my grandfather’s house, I was just another teenager tugging at her backpack, more worried about phone signals than the sound of the wind. But this time, I wasn’t running away from the village. I was running to it — away from notifications, noise, and nameless days that kept slipping through my fingers in the city. 🌻 A Morning That Felt Like a Memory When I arrived, it was just past sunrise. The air smelled of mud and mango leaves, with a hint of cow dung and fresh milk — strange, comforting, oddly familiar. I stood still for a moment, letting the silence stretch out like a prayer. No horns. No inbox. No traffic lights. Only the chirping of birds, the rhythmic “chuk-chuk” of a faraway train, and the dull thud of someone drawing water from a well. Inside, nothing had changed — yet everything had. My grandmother’s brass utensils still shone like gold in the kitchen window. T...

  I still remember that evening clearly. It was the last time I stood near the shamshan (cremation ground) of my village with my childhood friend Meera. Life in our village was simple — mornings filled with birdsong, evenings with laughter and the smell of freshly cooked food. But that day, something was different. Meera and I had grown up together — playing in fields, sharing secrets under the banyan tree, and dreaming of a life beyond the dusty roads. But the world was pulling us in different directions. The village temple bells rang softly, and somewhere a phone played a devotional track. The familiar “ Namami Shamishan lyrics ” echoed through the quiet evening air, blending with the rustling leaves. Meera closed her eyes and whispered, “My grandmother used to sing this every evening by the river. It always gave her peace.” I could see tears glistening in her eyes. She looked smaller somehow, like the weight of the village and her dreams pressed down on her. Just then,...

  From City Chaos to Punjab’s Open Skies I landed in Amritsar with one goal — to feel alive again. Months of being stuck in city noise, deadlines, and emotional burnout had drained me. So I picked Punjab — because something about its soil, fields, and people always felt grounding to me. Little did I know that this trip wasn’t just about exploring — it was about healing . 🍽️ The Chole Bhature That Felt Like a Hug After visiting the Golden Temple at sunrise, I found a tiny roadside dhaba just a few lanes away. No fancy signboard, just the smell of ghee, tandoor smoke, and garam masala filling the air. I ordered a simple plate of chole bhature . And let me tell you — it wasn’t just food. It was blessing on a plate . Soft, fluffy bhature with spicy, soulful chole that made me close my eyes with the first bite. But after food came stillness . A strange emotional wave hit me — like my heart was full... and yet something was missing. 🕯️ When Hanuman Chalisa Became My Anchor...