The Perfect Handshake Poem by Nikhil Parekh

When I shook hands with a waiter; interrupting his monotonous sequel of serving delicacies,
The handshake was pretty lackadaisical; the aftermath of which rendered me with grease and a perennial stench of garlic diffusing from my palms.

When I shook hands with a beggar; forcefully clasping his disheveled fingers in mine,
The handshake was absolutely nonchalant; it was as if I had awakened a dying man from the course of his blissful sleep.

When I shook hands with a pot-bellied butcher; nimbly requesting him to relinquish his sharp cleavers before he executed the same,
The handshake almost squelched my bones to fine chowder; and an obnoxious scent of foul fish and meat wafted profusely from my palm thereafter.

When I shook hands with a clean shaven barber; smiling amicably as I noticed an effeminate tinge of polish on his nails,
The handshake was as frigid as a slithering worm; also I had to scrub my palms
vigorously after the same; to free them from the unscrupulous strands of hair and shampoo; incorrigibly clinging tightly.

When I shook hands with a flamboyant model; gently entwining my hands in her dainty fingers,
The handshake was as cold as frozen ice; and I had to wash my hands with
stringent acid soon after; to get rid of the vanity aroma that nearly choked me to death.

When I shook hands with the bespectacled doctor; confidently gripping the back
of his hand in mine,
The handshake was a replica of the printed encyclopedia; and I almost swooned
on the ground after inhaling the despicable odor of chlorine and potent antiseptic.

When I shook hands with a madman; prudently catching him unaware when he was
snoozing under the sun,
The handshake seemed to last till eternity; almost engendering me to abdicate
my breath; as the imbecile idiot displayed no signs releasing me; against the most resilient of my efforts.

When I shook hands with the meticulous business tycoon; in an ambience inundated with majestic drapery and redolent flowers,
The handshake was the most sophisticated I had ever encountered; and I deliberately rolled my hands in sordid sand after the same; to add some vibrancy; break free from the impeccable aura of the superficial corporate world.
When I shook hands with the convict; incarcerated behind iron bars of the dingy prison,
The handshake was murderous; also the agony in his cold blooded eyes; the nefarious devil lurking in his brow; made me scamper at electric speeds towards the exit gate.

When I shook hands with the drunken truck driver; soaring past verdant landscapes; the splendidly gorgeous valleys,
The handshake was pretty bizarre; as he treated my petite palms like the steering wheel of his vehicle; maneuvering them frantically in several directions at a time.

When I shook hands with the bare chested washerman; in the midst of his fervent washing activity,
The handshake was as slippery as the shimmering dolphin; and he almost squashed my hands against the obdurate floor; overwhelmingly replete with a soapy bath
of detergent and carbolic.

And eventually when I shook hands with the soldier; in a backdrop of guns;
marching commandos; and hostile war,
The handshake this time was THE PERFECT HANDSHAKE; as he fearlessly
entangled his fingers in mine; and the fragrance of his loyalty lingered till times greater than eternity in my eyes; as I saluted his indomitable spirit; the tenacity in his persona to emancipate life for his country.