Treasure Island

Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

table salt

When I rolled ravenously in it; inscribing incoherent
patterns in the powder
with my big toe,
It stuck to innumerable pores of my tender skin;
poignantly tickling every
part of my body.

When I smeared a parsimonious amount of it on my
tongue; the taste buds
instantly stood up; as if after a marathon period of
prolonged rest,
My throat cried for water soon after; to pacify its
inevitable thirst.

When I sprinkled it gently in the drifting breeze; it
rose high and handsome
in the atmosphere; adhering to the crisp tree leaves,
While some part of it descended down painstakingly;
causing my eyes to
profusely water as it barged in forcefully.

When I blended it with pure water; vigorously stirring
the concoction till it
spewed bubbles of sparkling froth,
The elixir produced was wholesomely spicy to drink;
and I washed my mouth
scrupulously clean; after consuming a few sips.

When I rubbed it fervently against the periphery of
succulent fruit;
completely engulfing the same with its surplus
The berry remained as fresh as ever even after several
weeks had elapsed;
unperturbed by the onslaught of deleterious insects.

When mixed it with the chocolate brown soil; it
acquired evanescent tinges of
The mud now looked far more enticing; with streaks of
impeccable white clearly

When I heated it on the stove to form a composite bar
of soap; it willingly
underwent the metamorphosis,
And I felt hot fumes emanating from my persona; when I
took bath with it.

When I hurled it mischievously at passing pedestrians;
they were partially
perplexed by my uncanny behavior,
Their initial anger soon converted into intense
indignation; as they were left
scratching their flesh raw till it bled.

When I dissolved colossal pints of it in the
fathomless ocean; it was
supremely grateful,
Thanking me from its heart for submerging it back; in
the place it actually
belonged to.

And eventually when I added frugal pinches of it in my
food; my supper
transited to the tastiest of all times,
With commensurate proportions of sweetness and spice;
gratifying the pangs of hunger in my stomach,
It was now that my bottle of TABLE SALT had served me
to its absolute best;
had indeed embodied lots of color to my spiceless life

Submitted: Monday, August 18, 2014

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