From my past

A thought is rushing into my hands. I used to have a friend who had a problem for the first few years of his life. His tongue was attached to the base of his mouth...it used to affect his speech. Later, it was surgically separated a bit...But it still bothered him. Not just in speech but in thought too. He used to tell me God probably didn't want him to talk...he was a very silent person you know. Dunno why I am writing about this. As I said, the thought is rushing to my fingers.
Another story, or was it an incident I heard about, comes to my mind. I think I read about it in the Readers' Digest. Something to do with a man, who got a call...picked up the phone (am talking about landlines, which were the only kinds of phones in those days) and said wrong number. Haha!!

What weird stories are coming to mind.
Just jotting em down. Will analyse them later.

When I was much younger and used to live at home, on the fourth day of the menstrual cycle, one was supposed to take an oil bath after applying turmeric all over the body. I remember my mother used to tell me not to sleep in the afternoon on those particular days. I think she used to say the dreams one had then would come true or something to the effect. What I do remember is the headaches that would follow if I slept without drying my hair properly. But I would still find an excuse to nod off on those hot summer afternoons on the cold polished floors of my house, pretending to read. Just so I could have some dreams that could be fulfilled.
Funny, I don't remember those dreams, nor if they ever got fulfilled.

To silence...

You entered my soul like a gust of wind
Determined to blow a fresh breath of life into me
I opened the window unto you,
To make space for something new to me

You became a part of my being, a friend
Who stuck by me when everyone else was too busy
I leaned on your shoulder
And I felt myself like a climber wrapping around you

Slowly, you became a permanent guest
One I could no longer turn away at will or wont
You became a wall in my house
Only to become the roof over my head and hearth

Then you spread your roots within my spirit
Wrenching it from its foundations, alienating me
From who I thought I used to be
I initially embraced you, then submitted, then succumbed

Until I became a prisoner of your domineering affections
I lost my freedom to think and speak or speak and think
I forgot I used to have a voice at all
And you wrapped me in you arms, like a shroud and buried me.