Treasure Island

Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

nostalgia


The fish slithering in the claustrophobic swimming tank; had a
nostalgia for
swirling waters of the gargantuan ocean,
The flower sprouting from the cloistered pot; had a nostalgia for
growing in
farm soil; with an ambience of wind blowing tenaciously,
The spider crawling in dingy corners of the dilapidated mansion; had a
nostalgia for traversing through vivacious threads of web; dangling
from trees
in the amazon forest,
The crimson beaked bird incarcerated in grilled cage; had a nostalgia
for
flapping its wings exuberantly in the sky,
The blistering lava imprisoned at unprecedented depths beneath the
ground; had
a nostalgia to fulminate into infinite fountains in fresh air,
The globules of fat moisture trapped in ominous thunder clouds; had a
nostalgia for cascading down rampantly in the form of glistening rain,
The biscuits of glittering gold embedded in dilapidated dungeons; had a
nostalgia for; people admiring them in dazzling rays of the sun,
The lifeless panther embodied in the mammoth photograph; had a
nostalgia for
coming out alive; open his jaws in a domineering growl,
The blind man traversing on the streets with a disdainful stick; had a
nostalgia for sighting the world; fantasizing it in its most stupendous
form
ever,
The battalion of frogs in the solitary and deep well; had a nostalgia
for
bathing in pools of monsoon water,
The hunch backed camel trespassing through the crowded city streets;
had a
nostalgia for wandering languidly in the sandy desert,
The diminutive flames of wax candle stifling with the slightest of
breeze; had
a nostalgia for being the escalating flames of a crackling fire,
The granules of white salt jailed tightly in pellucid bottles; had a
nostalgia
for being sprawled on the saline sea shores,
The scientists stalling for time on marshy soil; had a nostalgia every
minute
for inhabiting the opalescent moon,
The tones of noxious gas encapsulated in an inflated balloon; had a
nostalgia
for whistling past the air at lightening speeds,
The pallid milk stored in canisters of rusty iron; had a nostalgia for
oozing
out from blossoming teats of the sacrosanct cow,
The people residing in alien countries; had a nostalgia for returning
back as
quickly as possible to blend with their native mud,
The orphaned child wailing incoherently on the dusty roads; had a
nostalgia
for embracing his departed mother,
And every palpable entity treading on this earth; had a nostalgia for
finding
its soul mate; languishing in the aisles of desire and perpetual
relationship;
till the time it inhaled air and blissfully existed. 

Submitted: Friday, August 15, 2014

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