Big Thumb Poem by Nikhil Parekh

When I held it dead straight and candidly in free space; people thought I was being overwhelmingly rude and cheeky,

When I sucked it passionately in my mouth; people thought I was just an innocuously overgrown child; unfit to exist in monotonous society,

When I curled it stubbornly to form a fist; people thought I was in an invidiously wild mood to punch and fight,

When I slanted it a trifle towards the left or right; people thought I wanted a
brazen and speedy lift,

When I pressed it ardently on scintillating white paper after dipping it in sapphire pools of ink; people thought that I was illiterate; didn't even know how to prudently sign,

When I raised it above my shoulders for incessant lengths of time; people thought that I gruesomely stranded; wanted to abscond to more blissful places than the eerie mist surrounding me,

When I folded it pathetically into boundless knots; people thought that I was disdainfully maim; endeavoring my best against crippled time,

When I tapped it relentlessly on the desk; people thought that I was peevishly irritated; desired to be left in immortal peace and all alone,

When I rubbed it voraciously across my armory of teeth; people thought I had dropped freshly from the rustic village; wasn't acquainted the slightest to contemporary toothbrush and stringent paste,

When I hoisted it vivaciously towards my friends in times of perilous examinations; people thought that I was wishing my comrades all the very best,

When I probed it forward to sprinkle crimson vermilion in the hair of my beloved; people thought I had tied the nuptial thread; bonded myself into the swirl of sacred marriage,

When I ominously hurled in sedate atmosphere; people thought I had intentions of breaking somebody's nose; waded back in petrified terror,

When I obnoxiously pointed it downwards towards Black mud; people thought I was in a mood to contemptuously insult; ridicule sagacious entities to inconspicuous
dust,

When I caressed it on colossal slabs of white ice; people thought that I trying to generate tremors of inexplicable excitement in my languidly dreary persona,

When I whole heartedly offered it to kids to play; people thought that I was extremely philanthropic; had this insatiable desire to help human kind,

When I twisted it fervently to capsize the pen; people thought that I was in an uninhibited spree to write,

When I engulfed it wholesomely with colored gloves; people thought that I was involved in heinous crimes; was trying to surreptitiously sequester my trail of vulnerable fingerprints,

When I feverishly bit it umpteenth number of times in the day; people thought that I was encapsulated with incomprehensible anxiety; was waiting for precarious time to rapidly unveil,

When I held it intractably against my lips; people thought I was trying to intimidate them into brutalized silence,

When I amicably waved it towards the chair; people thought that I instructing them to congenially sit and relish in fantasy,

O! My God; although it was just a short stub of fat flesh protruding from my palms; my big thumb was really something to ponder about; my big thumb was
incredulously astounding.