In Between The Raindrops

When I was a little girl, an old wise man once said to me,

               "life is like a race,

    To keep winning, you must keep running"

Like a sincere kid who believed everything elder said to be true, I let this dictum dictate my action.

     My race started with the striking of alarm clock. RUN, RUN, RUN, Catch the bus, to school. Ringing of school bell marked the end of lesson, Back home. Well, the ringing continued here to in the form of mamma's nagging. So yeah, my childhood was quite a noisy one.

      Years passed. Did I change my dictum? Not much! Apart from the missing alarm clock on shelf, now replaced by shiny mobile screen and the school building by workplace, I was certainly a keeper!

      We all share the same backstory and hold the same secret. Lemme divulge it.

What I didnot mention was that when the bus went racing, my thoughts went racing too. I had swam in tornadoes,fought battles and when 16's hit, been in a wildfire too. I cherrished these escapades and soon it formed itself into an art- "writing".

        I wrote about beautiful things and we all know Beauty is reckless! I could write tons about the surging storm of emotions, my reckless dance with thoughts in the heavy downpour but if asked, " What lies in between the raindrops?" I may haven't had an answer if not for this pic clicked by a friend. As you may have guessed correctly, he and the long train journey sired this article. My silly promises :) , the promises I like to fulfill.

In betwen the raindrops

When the time stops,

This is what I see..."

A writer is often complimented by phrases as such, " you write so beautifully,

                  Your mind must be a tornado"

Look through my glasses and you will see tiny raindrops suspended in the tornado acting as a prism to your emotions.

Stay Still!

Hark!

There's no ringing now, no tornadoes,just tiny raindrops dispersed in air. One has the bitter aftertaste of friendship turned sour, other one tastes like first kiss, this one has an ashen taste of despair and the one between my dry parched lips, is the first taste or rain,- fresh and full of hope!

These tiny little raindrops escapes the vortex of my emotions and percolates my writings enriching it!.

In between the raindrops,

When the time stops

This is what I see-

Even the reckless storm has an element of serene"