Saluting The Street Dogs. Poem by Nikhil Parekh

Saluting The Street Dogs.



You unsparingly reprimanded them when they ferociously barked - mischievously
chased other damsels of their fraternity and indulged in the most uncivilized of fights,

You lambasted them - instantaneously unbuckling your waist belts - for chasing your
car down the quiet highway; annoyed that its flamboyant splendor was marred by the
unscrupulous behavior,

You; at occasions; drove at breakneck speeds - thrusting the reason to be an
emergency - and mowed through their peaceful abodes which were haphazardly
strewn across the orphaned road,

You hurled stones randomly on their innocuous bodies - on the spurious pretexts of
them being besmirched with dirt and debris from the gutters - and intruding the spotless environs around you with their hapless demeanor,

You incorrigibly refused to touch them or any part of their body even an insouciant iota - scientifically quoting the fact that this could lead to rabies and a host of unceremonious disease - with statesmanly like pride,

You sprayed the most opulent of your perfume in the air if they trespassed your house walls uninvited - terming the stench that thereby emanated as abhorrently unbearable - though you yourself hadn't taken a bath since many days,

You had the best laugh of your life as they traumatically wailed on the pavement beside you - sadistically consoling yourself of emphatic victory for the day - though the boss had just nonchalantly fired you,

You took excruciating effort to find the contact details of those government vans who could uncouthly pick them up from your locality - complaining against the dirt; disease; unhygienic conditions; and waste that they spread - and surprisingly this was the only matter you found worthy in your existence to rebel,


You side-lined them as the lowest strata of the society - an irascible menace to every
religion existing under the Sun; barbarically shutting the doors on their mouth - even as you rejoiced and celebrated bounteous opportunities of survival,

You took potshots at them with your freshly purchased air-gun - placing apples and
other nondescriptly sized objects on their heads - as this placed you in a princely
pedestal; not ever mustering the courage to sit a real throne,

You horrendously spat at them - saliva which at instances was laced with obnoxious
chewing gum; tobacco; discarded food and pernicious tooth prick - as this made you feel seated behind the luxurious wheel of the limousine - though you were currently driving the laborious bicycle,

You used their name as a vindictively hurled expletive - lividly abusing your colleagues with the same - as how to react alternatively and express your emotions never crossed your prejudiced thought,

You took their photographs not to sympathize or flatter - but depict the abysmal state of poverty in your country that could go ahead and win an Oscar - and also because they were earnestly happy to oblige,

You snatched the succulently tantalizing meals they received sporadically from
philanthropists - wisely declaring that these didn't befit them - when the abject reality was that the hole in your own plate had just gotten a trifle bigger,

You mercilessly beat them with approximately the same sized and complexioned stick
that your counterpart had hit you with - for here there was not the tiniest of reprisal as you flaunted your non-existent bravado - and yet you felt you'd had your revenge,

You ferociously kicked them left, right and center as you walked the muddy trail - as if they were barricades of loose sand that hampered your path - at the same instant also giving you an opportunity to demonstrate your powerless might,

You bizarrely held their impeccable new born kids by their feet upside down - to
worthlessly demonstrate how helpless they were in this gargantuan world - whereas
God was; is and shall be; the ultimate master and invincible decision maker of his entire planet,

You brutally sold them to unsuspecting foreigners who presumed they were yours - as you artificially cuddled them in your lap - to earn that indispensable currency coin and consume that quintessential meal to survive,

Yet. And ironically. You; still salute these ‘Street dogs' whom you pugnaciously
abandoned and hideously punched - as they guarded you in their own inimitable
natural capacity in the thick of the blackened night - and then their discordant growl
was the sweetest sound to your ears; as you knew their mortal forms were there to
protect you - even as the thieves crept.

Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: nice
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Nikhil Parekh

Nikhil Parekh

Dehradun, India
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