Nikhil Parekh

Gold Star - 6,486 Points (27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

Destined To Be Dead. When God Wants. - Poem by Nikhil Parekh

I didn't know whether it would be flamboyantly optimistic rays of the Sun; or whether the sky would resemble silver streaks of monsoon grey- when I'd step out of the pitch dark coal mine,

I didn't know whether it'd rain unrelentingly; or whether it'd turn out to be a day embellished with the profoundness of ecstatic light- as I retired for sleep just a few hours before,

I didn't know whether I'd meet with several uncouth barricades; or whether I'd reach the finishing line of sweet success like the flight of a royally unbridled eagle- as I tread on the jagged road outside,

I didn't know whether the very next person I'd encounter would be a long-lost friend; or a complete stranger with whom I'd have to interact from the infinitesimal scratch so that we became best friends,

I didn't know whether the waves of the ocean would serenely undulate under the opalescent Moon- or whether there would be an undivided wall of fiery water called ‘Tsunami' hurtling towards the crowded township- as I merrily hummed the tunes of my choice snuggled cozily in my hotel room,

I didn't know whether there'd be impeccable landscapes of ice as I traversed up the hills; or whether what would greet me would be treacherous barren slopes- with delightful rivulets of water tumbling by my side,

I didn't know whether the colossal edifice would retain its poise; or come down crumbling like a pack of frigid matchsticks; as the earthquake struck without the tiniest of insinuation and with insurmountable might,

I didn't know whether the bus awkwardly wobbling through the hills; would reach the summit with all passengers in bliss; or whether it'd skid its way head-on- down into the stillness of the devouring gorge,

I didn't know whether the tantalizing plain of mud that laid infront; would facilitate to reach the other end like a royal safari- or whether it'd perseveringly suck life trying to traverse being the slippery sand,

I didn't know whether the fresh bundle of life soon about to leave the womb and entire planet divine- would be an unequivocally bonding baby girl; or a mischievous little darling baby boy,

I didn't know whether the stranger walking abreast my window; lived in a charmed castle of glittering columns and crowns- or whether he found solace under the open roof of the unassailable sky; when night inevitably descended by,

I didn't know whether the bird perched on the roof- would choose to peck at grains strewn in bountiful abundance around; or whether it'd dabble its beak just an insouciant trifle into the few droplets of water in the bowl,

I didn't know whether the offsprings would abruptly leave their mother one day; or whether they'd all continue to exist till destined in their abode replenished with the threads of love,

I didn't know whether the bride and bride-groom who appeared so wondrously enlightened on solemnization of marriage- would lead a life further of unhindered joy; mutual bliss and respect- or whether their existence would mark a new chapter of being fraught with total discontent; dissimilarities and disparities,

I didn't know whether the flamboyantly roaring lion would attack the man with savage hostility; or would come near him to timidly lap up his palm; the same man who'd once upon a time removed a thorn from its profusely oozing wound,

I didn't know whether the vultures would admire their unfettered flight in the scintillatingly candid mirror; or whether they'd disintegrate the same into worthless pieces with nonchalant probes of their legs and beaks,

I didn't know whether the inscrutably exuberant paintings of the painter would reach him the epitome of mortal success and fame; or whether he'd spend a life in lambasted reclusion and seclusion from the outside world,

I didn't know whether the kite I flew from my terrace; would soar placidly as I relished plucking at its lifeless string; or whether it'd fall with an instantaneous thud upon obdurate concrete; cut by a counterpart string which had more luck that time,


But irrespective of this or that we did not know - what I and every single one of us living beings definitely and irrefutably know; is that every mortal life taken birth upon the soil by God's grace- is destined to be dead when God wants.

Topic(s) of this poem: death


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, November 7, 2015

Poem Edited: Saturday, February 27, 2016


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