Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

walking backwards


If humans on land started to abruptly walk backwards,
with their eyes focused towards empty spaces in the
front,
they would inadvertently lose their balance tumbling
like a pack of cards,
on the obdurate surface of muddy ground.
If cars powered with speed guns traversed backwards,
monumental elevations of buildings would seem fading
in oblivion,
it would be eternity before one reached the place of
work,
there would be embarrassing accidents at all quarters,
rendering the traffic in disdainful jeopardy.

If thoroughbred stallions galloped backwards,
execute insane behavior while carrying their
possessors,
their masters would whip them black and blue,
for not obeying stringent instructions even after
consuming with relish,
fresh tendrils of red radish with spicy leaves of
coriander.
If saline waves of the ocean receded backwards with
outrageous bursts of
wind,
the sand on shores would die in parched starvation,
fishes would find it painstakingly cumbersome to swim,
there would be no ships sailing on the erratic persona
of the sky blue sea.

If slender needles of the tower clock ticked
backwards,
minutes, hours, days would simply fail to proceed,
the youth would exist in resplendent
exuberance for decades to come,
all decayed and old would fail to wither, staying alive
for times immemorial,
and there wouldn't be a fresh soul born for centuries
to be confronted. 

Submitted: Sunday, August 17, 2014

Topic(s): poetry


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