Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet
The instrument indispensable to stay happy was to stay contented,
The instrument indispensable to feel warm; was to consume a pitcher full of sizzling tea,
The instrument indispensable to unrelentingly fight like a true stalwart; was courage blended with lots of brawn,
The instrument indispensable to swim in the choppy waves of ocean; was dexterous swirling of the hands and feet,
The instrument indispensable to produce ravishing fragrance; was the ornately embellished crimson rose,
The instrument indispensable to uninhibitedly laugh; was to be tickled voraciously in the intricate ribs,
The instrument indispensable to quench thirst; was crystalline sacs of mountain water,
The instrument indispensable to decode accurate time; was a compactly studded wrist watch,
The instrument indispensable to run a computer; was a plethora of coherent microchips,
The instrument indispensable to run marathon distance at swashbuckling speeds; was the tenacity of the leg,
The instrument indispensable to fly a kite at astronomical heights in the sky; was a pliable and slender string,
The instrument indispensable to fumigate infection and gloom from distant corners of the globe; was dazzling rays of Sunshine,
The instrument indispensable to hysterically sob; was the salinity in the eyes juxtaposed with tribulation,
The instrument indispensable to inundate blank canvas with rustic streaks of color; was a articulately sculptured paint brush,
The instrument indispensable to produce loads of salubrious milk; was the mother cow,
The instrument indispensable to inculcate overwhelming strength in the body; was to perseveringly work and consume food,
The instrument indispensable to produce fiery sensations in the palms; was
to vigorously knead them,
The instrument indispensable to feel miserably cold; was to stand on the summit of the mountain bereft of any clothes,
The instrument indispensable to produce itching in the scalp; was abhorrent dandruff,
The instrument indispensable to produce blazing fires; was a wildly strewn pile of baked twigs,
The instrument indispensable to produce torrential rain; was a conglomerate of black thunder clouds,
The instrument indispensable to illuminate a cloistered room; was waves of white electricity,
The instrument indispensable to produce fetid smell; was a mountain of orphan sewage,
The instrument indispensable to produce mesmerizing tunes; was the eloquent and mystical nightingale,
The instrument indispensable to produce pools of ghastly blood; was the nefarious nozzle of the automatic gun,
The instrument indispensable to provoke violence; was discriminating illusions of religion,
The instrument indispensable to produce sleep; was feeling exorbitantly exhausted,
And the instrument indispensable to live; was incessantly love; and incorporate the same in the hearts of the commoner.
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The Instrument Indispensable
The Instrument Indispensable
