For him I wasn’t the carefree and reckless student bunking classroom with nonchalant ease to meet my beloved,
What he considered me was just a special insect; who buzzed incessantly around his visage; pretentiously praising him about things he had never committed.
For him I wasn’t the impetuous youngster who spent every night drowned in gallons of intoxicating whisky dancing to the beats of vivacious music,
What he considered me was a professional with dynamic speech; the only man who could entertain his guests for weeks together on the glittering telephone.
For him I wasn’t just the tiny kid playing boisterously with several other of my kind,
What he considered me was an audacious and gallant chested soldier; standing tall and domineering to protect his assets; opening the door of his car; every time he felt an urge to drive fast towards the valley of enchantment.
For him I wasn’t the emperor of my dreams; sitting on the profusely jeweled throne,
What he considered me was just somebody who could spot and shrug off all the disdainful hair sticking to his shirt; evolve ingenious ideas to fetch him his emoluments for years to unveil.
For him I wasn’t the maverick munching toffee and simultaneously writing love letters,
What he considered me was a perfect "Butter Man"; adroitly convincing and polishing the shoes of his vast repertoire of alien customers.
For him I wasn’t the mischievous teenager bursting into pools of uninhibited laughter every other second,
What he considered me was just a vibrant entity who wrote his International speech; cajoled his vain senses when he found himself encompassed by a state of inexplicable nervousness.
For him I wasn’t the pampered boy feasting my eyes on a fathomless ensemble of ravishing fruits and curd,
What he considered me was just an executive who could prolifically travel all around the country; while he slept blissfully with the girl of his dreams; with nothing else except his snores to disturb him.
For him I wasn’t a prince swimming in an ocean of pearls; tossing an armory of jewels like matchsticks in the air,
What he considered me was just an infinitesimal little banana; whose skin he could ruthlessly peel whenever he wanted; before savoring the entire fruit.
For him I wasn’t the baby cuddling tightly to my mother's invincible lap; drifting off to blissful sleep as she sung mystical rhymes into my ear,
What he considered me was just a mature broker; intricately manipulating and shielding each of his shady and illegal deals.
For him I wasn’t the adventurous crusader; profoundly admiring a blanket of voluptuous stars from the summit of the hill,
What he considered me was just an expert salesman; propagating the essence of his hollow ideals far and wide; standing dead straight as if struck by a hostile arrow; nodding my head boundless number of times to the faintest of whispers he uttered.
For him I wasn’t God's vehement disciple; inexorably ringing the bells of the temple; wholesomely lost in the omnipotent aura of the Creator,
What he considered me was just an obnoxious table of reception; uttering hi, hello, sorry, thank you, all throughout the waking day and for some part of the
moistened night.
For him I wasn’t my beloved's lover; enveloped intensely in the supremely volatile arms of her romance,
What he considered me was just a dirty solicitor; ever ready to fight every legal case of his; win every battle triumphantly in front of the judge.
For him I wasn’t human at all; with feelings, desires; fantasies; emotions; passions.etc.,
What he considered me was just his chained employee;licking his feet in meek submission; executing all his Business deals to astronomical perfection.
As these were the things inevitable to be done; to get that pay cheque of mine at the end of every month; and of course till that time he could take the privilege of dominating me,
But mind you irrespective of my compulsion to exist; he would only for the time being remain my fake Godfather; but could never replace and was nowhere near even the minutest shadows of my adorable and omniscient Creator.
50. SNAKE LEATHER BELT
I used it to lambaste bald patches of fair skin,
it obliged readily executing brute power with austere amounts of sting.
I viciously strangulated slender necks twisting it,
it bit the skin tenaciously to cause abrupt death.
I suspended it in Luke warm waters of the monsoon lake,
it in turn hoisted a jugglery of golden fish for me to relish.
I stealthily caressed umpteenth pores of my tender flesh with it,
it tantalizingly tickled me to erupt into whirlpools of laughter.
I stuck it firmly to the bare wall; with a backdrop of morbid jungle,
it strikingly resembled the slithering body of a silver snake.
I utilized it as a versatile pulley to evacuate me pails of water,
it did so with jocular smiles; also fetching me my drowned purse alongwith
crystal water.
I embedded it to the ceiling fan forming a tight noose,
got ready to fit in my stocky neck; and a few seconds after to relinquish breath.
I mercilessly burnt it in a heap to proliferate fire,
harmoniously heat substantially cold arenas of my body.
I tugged it dexterously with my palms; pulling my beloved towards me,
then enjoyed the effeminate warmth of her breath cascading down my nape.
It worked like a slave; meticulously performing all tasks to perfection,
although I must mention that my snake leather belt
looked far more enchanting while wound on my potbellied waist,
rather than when executing a plethora of mundane task.
The End .
Life = Death - volume 7 - Poems on Life , Death Page 8
