WildHorses

WildHorses
No rhyme no rhythm, just a flow of thoughts..

Friday, April 29, 2011

Stormy skies


My mind is clouded like the clouded sky,
my thoughts good and bad
are hanging low like the heavy clouds
before a storm..

My mind is clouded like the clouded sky,
and i'm feelin blue 'cos i'm alone..
but as i look at the sky and wonder
someone somewhere is blue like me..

My mind is clouded like the clouded sky,
but now the clouds are drifting
its becoming clearer than before
and now i'm blue no more..

as someone somewhere beneath this sky,
is feeling blue like me no more..

My Best buddy!


Everybody's got a best friend in their life right. Ordinary people who come into our lives and make it extraordinary. They become an inseparable part of us. They come when we need them the most. Their the ones with whom we can share everything, about the stuff we do, our crushes,heartaches,problems,juiciest gossips..about anything and everything under the sun.. Someone with whom hours go like seconds..You just dont realise the time passing by. Next to our parents, the best creation of God is our friends. Can you imagine your life without them. How monotonous would our days be without them being around..without the sound of their laughter. Now when i sit back and think, it just ocurred to me in this rather empty head of mine..I have the best of best friends in this world i could ever have.
They have accepted my imperfections and stupidities and offered me their friendship.

But above them all, the best friend I ever had was way back in my childhood..my grandpa.He was always there by my side, right from when I opened my eyes till the few years to come. My mum used to tell me, people are scared of him. Yeah he was dark, not a smile on his face and not a word on his lips. To the world he might have been a grumpy old man. But to me he was my dearest buddy. When I was a kid I loved answering the phone and he was the one who taught me how to talk when people called. Well i would end up saying "Who is speaking" in my broken kiddish lingo. There were no kids of my age in and around my neighbourhood, except for those huge lanky teenage boys. They would play cricket in the fields and run around. I was scared of them and would rather spend time with my grandpa.

And yes..that's what I exactly did. I would make him sit in a chair and play that popular game- beauty parlor, which every girl must have played in her childhood. Well they must have played with other girl kids, but my customer was my grandpa.I would apply talc on his face, bindi on his forehead and tie a hundred tiny braids on that silvery bed of hair, yet he would sit there patiently without saying a word. Well that's what I played. Grandpa was the first to teach me how to draw. He would make me sit on his lap,place a slate on my lap..chalk between my fingers,and that rough hand would grasp my tiny hand and guide me to sketch beautiful pictures.We would draw absract things , common people doing their routine work etc.

We would spend hours together like this without exchanging any words, yet it felt like the best conversation I ever had. That's how the years rolled by,until that unfortunate October day, in the wee hours of the morning, he breathed his last. I hadnt lost any one until then..didn't know what death was until then. There was noise around, the mourning and crying of relatives and dear ones. They cried even more, when I asked what happened to him. When I saw him being carried away, him being wrapped up in that yard of white cloth, did I realise that he was gone forever. Many years have passed since then, many people have come into my life and gone. But nobody can replace my best buddy. People say I dont talk a lot, but what do I do if my words have gone with him...