Life = Death - Volume 5 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

28. I SIMPLY DIDN’T WANT TO WASTE MY TODAY 

I didn’t remember the color of the shirt I was wearing yesterday; the exact number of buttons adorning its daintily frilled frontal periphery,

I didn’t remember the roads which I frequented yesterday; the routes which I had transgressed upon to reach my destination in an absolute jiffy,

I didn’t remember the faces I had encountered yesterday; the fascinating flurry of smiles which had so gorgeously made my wretched day,

I didn’t remember the food I had eaten yesterday; the stupendous delicacies which had voraciously tickled intricate cavities in my mouth,

I didn’t remember the sleazy television serials I had witnessed yesterday; the comic people on small screen which had made me uninhibitedly laugh; conjured me to

transit into a satisfied slumber,

I didn’t remember the shops that I had passed yesterday; the resplendent festoon of gaudy lights and glow that had stolen fractions of my moistened breath and air,

I didn’t remember the time when I dozed yesterday; the number of hours I slept in loud snores and perennial peace,

I didn’t remember the flavor of tea I had consumed several times yesterday; the heavenly aroma that had imparted loads of ravishing warmth to my fatigued

demeanor,

I didn’t remember the flowers which I had smelt yesterday; feasting on the stupendous fragrance that wafted uncontrollably from their robust body,

I didn’t remember the unprecedented cavalcade of exotic dreams which I had conceived yesterday; the ingratiating state of tingling excitement that they

had wholesomely rendered me in,

I didn’t remember the sounds which I had profoundly heard yesterday; the supremely melodious tunes which had taken complete control of my impoverished body and

soul,

I didn’t remember the countless verses I had embossed yesterday; the spell binding tunes which I had harnessed and composed with my very own thick blood,

I didn’t remember the birds who had perched on my window yesterday; the boisterous chirps that had added insurmountable exuberance and ardor to my solitary

life,

I didn’t remember the birthday celebrations of my wife which had unveiled yesterday; the unfathomable pomp and gaiety that had enveloped my dwelling from each conceivable side as the evening tranquilly descended,

I didn’t remember the perfume which I had applied yesterday; the alluring redolence that it had wholesomely besieged me with at ethereal dawn,

I didn’t remember the names of the people who had amicably come to meet me yesterday; the marathon hours that I congenially conversed with the same to enlighten my wave of gloomy boredom,

I didn’t remember the contemporary planes in which I sat yesterday; the grandiloquently plush interiors; the ornamental glass of ethnic silver in which I had

sipped opulently red wine,

I didn’t remember the signature I had executed yesterday; the flamboyant strokes I had delectably chiseled with my swanky pen on the face of the crisp chequebook,

And I didn’t even remember the unsurpassable adulation; the fleet of prestigious accolades; that I had received yesterday; all the scintillating awards and marvelous trophies that adorned my translucent mantelpiece,

For if I remembered my yesterday; drowning myself in the glorious past that had circumvented me relentlessly in the past; then my fingers would automatically refrain to work today,

And basking in the glory of yesterday; I simply didn’t want to spoil my fabulously rosy today.