And Then I Met Her Poem by Nikhil Parekh

I'd encountered countless women who said they were unimaginably tired—that they'd certainly collapse into an abominable heap; even after getting up from a boundless number of hours of celestial rest and revitalizing sleep,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were brutally emaciated—that the pangs of hunger would certainly kill them; evenafter gobbling virtually every succulent delicacy on this fathomless earth,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were miserably shy—that they'd certainly swoon infront of the tiniest of mosquito; even after bathing each conceivable pore of their body; mind and soul under the Sun for times immemorial,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were egregiously drowning—that they'd most certainly asphyxiate their last breath under water; even after the endless chain of waves had miraculously and flawlessly transported her to the safe shores,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were sinful untouchables—that their religion would never enable them to mélange with the rest of the planet; even after the Lord had himself descended before them and told them that all religions on this earth are equal and one,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were abysmally purposeless—that their life would just evaporate into nothingness as it came; even after each royal stroke of destiny unveiled an infinite vistas of newness and opportunity infront of them,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were dismally directionless—that their existence was like the hackneyed pauper till their grave; even after the Omnipotent light paved a way clearer than their soul on every step they dared tread,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were flagrantly scorched—that their throats would certainly turn to charcoal of thirst; even after merrily guzzling down-infinite a can of fruit beer; wine and spring water on the trajectory of this earth,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were inexplicably thwarted—that their life would end this very instant of depression; even after every tangible and intangible happiness of existence was copiously fed to them in a golden spoon each minute,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were agonizingly suffocating—that they'd almost forgotten the scent of fresh air; even after inexhaustibly floating in the clouds of desire-where there blew nothing else but the unstoppable wind of euphoric life,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were deplorably incomplete—that they'd dolefully look forward now only to the next birth; even after being blessed with an immaculate husband; children and an unendingly boisterous jugglery of kin,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were hideously exploited—that their livid bodies would now never fetch heaven; even after being worshipped as nothing else but—daughter; wife; mother; aunt and all the conceivable sacred relations that the planet was bound to,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were ignominiously ugly—that they always sequestered their maudlin grotesque face under the cloak to weep; even after ecstatically winning the ultimate glory crown of 'Miss Universe' for every successive year,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were tawdrily second hand—that they wanted to commit suicide rather than being the consolation prizes of their husbands; even after wantonly philandering themselves with every handsome on the globe—whilst their husbands just stared and tolerated in humble submission,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were unfinished wombs—that they unrelentingly cried to seek the blessings of the Creator; even after giving birth to so many a beautiful and bountiful baby girl child,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were irretrievably blind—that they saw nothing else but devilish darkness capsizing their innocence every instant; even after astoundingly differentiating the nth shade of their choice-for the fabric they planned to adorn on top of their skimpy outfit,

I'd encountered countless women who said they were mercilessly abandoned—that they'd been left amidst a pack of savage wolves to find their non-existent way; even after haughtily ordering a countless of their slaves to lick their floors and walls clean of the last speck of grime,

I'd encountered countless women who said they had abruptly ended—that they'd never ever been given a second chance by the chapters of acridly harsh life; even after an infinite heavens of glorious newness had opened at each bit of goodness that they did,

And then I met her—who gave up on everything even before anything opportune could happen to her; even before the tiniest insinuation of happiness could bless her; even before the mantra of goodness and miracle could try and help her; even before she could alight a single foot to try and test her true worth on this Omniscient soil.