1 God – Poems on God , Creator – Volume 4 by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

30. AFTER DEATH 

There was a time when I emitted my first cry; with my mother hoisting

me high in the air,

Now I lay on the forlorn ground unattended; with scores of black cockroach

crawling over my face.

There was a time when my flesh was as rubicund as the crimson rose; with innocuous saliva dribbling from my mouth,

Now I resembled a disheveled heap; with a fleet of pugnacious vultures hovering

above my head.

There was a time when I rambunctiously played with an ensemble of contemporary

toys; my elders pampering me with crusts of creamy chocolate,

Now people passing viewed me with dismay and utter repulsion; inadvertently

showering rotten leftovers of food over my face.

There was a time when I used to voraciously scribble infinite lines of literature;

profoundly absorbed in composing verse every day,

Now I was strewn on the tarmac like a decayed parchment; having relinquished

all my power of envisage and perceive.

There was a time when I used to dress in ostentatious clothing; overwhelmed to

gyrate to the tunes of blaring music,

Now I wasn’t even able to hear the slightest of sound; the tiniest of movement; with a

blur of darkness camouflaging my eyes.

There was a time when I sporadically laughed and cried; easily provoked by the

most impeccable of joke,

Now the blood seemed to have frozen in my veins; and the contours of my face

had gone completely lifeless.

There was a time when I used to hold the impregnable hands of my mother; to

cross the busy traffic lanes,

Now a fleet of bulky vehicles ran over my body; and I didn’t shed even a solitary tear.

There was a time I had insatiable craving for exquisite food; irrevocably longed for fried

steak all day,

Now the buds of taste had shriveled on my tongue; and I had been without water

for several days.

There was a time when my blood was incessantly boiling in my veins; with the

boisterousness of youth prompting me to execute irascible decisions,

Now a series of bones protruded from my wrinkled skin; and It was impossible

for me to raise my hands to drive away the most insipid of buzzing flies.

There was a time when I spent each day of my life incorrigibly loving my beloved;

spending marathon hours in the day nostalgically reviving our initial romance days,

And now I lay listless and languid on the earth; having thoroughly abnegated

worldly pleasures; waiting for the creator to grant me heaven or hell; after my death.