Life = Death - volume 7 - Poems on Life , Death

by Nikhil Parekh

  For him I wasn’t the carefree and reckless student bunking classroom with nonchalant ease to meet my beloved,

  What he considered me was just a special insect; who buzzed incessantly around his visage; pretentiously praising him about things he had never committed. 

  For him I wasn’t the impetuous youngster who spent every night drowned in gallons of intoxicating whisky dancing to the beats of vivacious music,

  What he considered me was a professional with dynamic speech; the only man who could entertain his guests for weeks together on the glittering telephone.

  For him I wasn’t just the tiny kid playing boisterously with several other of my kind,

  What he considered me was an audacious and gallant chested soldier; standing tall and domineering to protect his assets; opening the door of his car; every time he felt an urge to drive fast towards the valley of enchantment.

  For him I wasn’t the emperor of my dreams; sitting on the profusely jeweled throne,

  What he considered me was just somebody who could spot and shrug off all the disdainful hair sticking to his shirt; evolve ingenious ideas to fetch him his emoluments for years to unveil.

  For him I wasn’t the maverick munching toffee and simultaneously writing love letters,

  What he considered me was a perfect "Butter Man"; adroitly convincing and polishing the shoes of his vast repertoire of alien customers.

  For him I wasn’t the mischievous teenager bursting into pools of uninhibited laughter every other second,

  What he considered me was just a vibrant entity who wrote his International speech; cajoled his vain senses when he found himself encompassed by a state of inexplicable nervousness.

  For him I wasn’t the pampered boy feasting my eyes on a fathomless ensemble of ravishing fruits and curd,

  What he considered me was just an executive who could prolifically travel all around the country; while he slept blissfully with the girl of his dreams; with nothing else except his snores to disturb him.

  For him I wasn’t a prince swimming in an ocean of pearls; tossing an armory of jewels like matchsticks in the air,

  What he considered me was just an infinitesimal little banana; whose skin he could ruthlessly peel whenever he wanted; before savoring the entire fruit.

  For him I wasn’t the baby cuddling tightly to my mother's invincible lap; drifting off to blissful sleep as she sung mystical rhymes into my ear,

  What he considered me was just a mature broker; intricately manipulating and shielding each of his shady and illegal deals.

  For him I wasn’t the adventurous crusader; profoundly admiring a blanket of voluptuous stars from the summit of the hill,

  What he considered me was just an expert salesman; propagating the essence of his hollow ideals far and wide; standing dead straight as if struck by a hostile arrow; nodding my head boundless number of times to the faintest of whispers he uttered.

  For him I wasn’t God's vehement disciple; inexorably ringing the bells of the temple; wholesomely lost in the omnipotent aura of the Creator,

  What he considered me was just an obnoxious table of reception; uttering hi, hello, sorry, thank you, all throughout the waking day and for some part of the

  moistened night.

  For him I wasn’t my beloved's lover; enveloped intensely in the supremely volatile arms of her romance,

  What he considered me was just a dirty solicitor; ever ready to fight every legal case of his; win every battle triumphantly in front of the judge.

  For him I wasn’t human at all; with feelings, desires; fantasies; emotions; passions.etc.,

  What he considered me was just his chained employee;licking his feet in meek submission; executing all his Business deals to astronomical perfection. 

  As these were the things inevitable to be done; to get that pay cheque of mine at the end of every month; and of course till that time he could take the privilege of dominating me,

  But mind you irrespective of my compulsion to exist; he would only for the time being remain my fake Godfather; but could never replace and was nowhere near even the minutest shadows of my adorable and omniscient Creator.

 

  50. SNAKE LEATHER BELT  

  I used it to lambaste bald patches of fair skin,

  it obliged readily executing brute power with austere amounts of sting.

  I viciously strangulated slender necks twisting it,

  it bit the skin tenaciously to cause abrupt death.

  I suspended it in Luke warm waters of the monsoon lake,

  it in turn hoisted a jugglery of golden fish for me to relish.

  I stealthily caressed umpteenth pores of my tender flesh with it,

  it tantalizingly tickled me to erupt into whirlpools of laughter.

  I stuck it firmly to the bare wall; with a backdrop of morbid jungle,

  it strikingly resembled the slithering body of a silver snake.

  I utilized it as a versatile pulley to evacuate me pails of water,

  it did so with jocular smiles; also fetching me my drowned purse alongwith

  crystal water.

  I embedded it to the ceiling fan forming a tight noose,

  got ready to fit in my stocky neck; and a few seconds after to relinquish breath.

  I mercilessly burnt it in a heap to proliferate fire,

  harmoniously heat substantially cold arenas of my body.

  I tugged it dexterously with my palms; pulling my beloved towards me,

  then enjoyed the effeminate warmth of her breath cascading down my nape.

  It worked like a slave; meticulously performing all tasks to perfection,

  although I must mention that my snake leather belt

  looked far more enchanting while wound on my potbellied waist,

  rather than when executing a plethora of mundane task.

  The End .