Treasure Island

Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

when i thought about the world

WHEN I THOUGHT about the world from inside a squalid gutter; with an abhorrently fetid stench permeating into my nostrils,
I perceived it to be extremely dirty; with scraps of tarnished paper inhabiting every prevalent street.

When I thought about the world soaring high in the sky; circumvented by an ambience of silken clouds and birds,
I visualized it to be a tiny place; with inconspicuous structures projecting in scores from its trajectory.

When I thought about the world from beneath unfathomable depths of the ocean; an assemblage of salty water entrenching me in entirety,
I imagined it to be a profoundly wet place; with infinite spaces of land soaked in slippery liquid.

When I thought about the world standing in middle of the desert; sweltering winds blended with sand striking my persona tenaciously,
I conceived it to be an overwhelmingly dusty place; with people sweating profusely under dazzling rays of the sun.

When I thought about the world languishing in an island of redolent flowers; the mesmerizing odor of blossoming rose tickling me to high realms of sedation,
I cognized it to be a stupendously fragrant place; with every organism lurking on its soil diffusing astronomical amounts of scent.

When I thought about the world sitting in a factory of firecrackers; incredulous contraptions of dynamite exploding intermittently all around,
I pictured it to be a tumultuously noisy place; incorporated with individuals who yelled expending full capacity of their lungs; every time they felt the urge to speak.

When I thought about the world digging a coal mine thousands of feet below the ground; a ghastly darkness sequestering me from pragmatic reality,
I envisaged it to be an utterly gloomy place; with all animate residing enveloped by depression; and the sun incorrigibly refraining to shine.

When I thought about the world; lying surreptitiously hidden within the interiors of the government treasury; boundless clusters of crisp notes making it onerous for me to breathe,
I contemplated it to be inundated with money; school children scribbling finishing their assignments on currency sheets; instead of using plain paper.

When I thought about the world gallivanting through the dense forests; slithering reptiles transgressing ominously through the bushes; lethal alligators scrawling up the marshy swamps,
I assumed it to be a place impregnated with savage men; with rustic cakes of cow-dung adhered to house walls instead of conventional plaster.

And eventually when I thought about the world incarcerated in the arms of my beloved; the moistness in her breath virtually putting me off to sleep,
I imagined it to be an astounding paradise; with a harmonious synergy existing between the young; the old; and the deprived. 

Submitted: Saturday, August 16, 2014

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