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Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet

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Human God
by Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet → (All Poetry by Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet)
Thursday, March 17, 2016    Rated "G" by the Author.
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 He who recognizes the fertility of land; by mere caress of the strewn soil, 

Smelling the scent emanating as he tramples the mud; is indeed a true farmer.
 
He who recognizes burglars; by simply looking straight in their eye, 
Intricately reading their jugglery of body movement; complexion of their brutal face; 
is a true policeman.
 
He who comprehends the arrival of a cyclonic storm; by the rise and fall of  
sea waves, 
The turbulent clouds obliterating the stars; gusty draughts of wind blowing; is a true sailor.
 
He who can perceive the entire structure of the grandiloquent  building; without even
constructing it, 
By articulately sketching its labyrinth of outlines; is a true architect.
 
He who can explicitly understand the disease of an individual; without asking him to divulge his lengthy background, 
By innocuously touching his pulse; is a true doctor.
 
He who can confidently proclaim the denomination of a currency note; without seeing a trace of it with the eye, 
By scrupulously feeling its texture; weighing its body; is a true businessman.
 
He who can write voraciously at all times of the day; without a luxurious ambience of rain and tropical forest, 
Tumultuously exercising dormant arenas of his invincible brain; is a true writer.
 
He who can dive head on in the fathomless valley; bereft of a parachute strapped on his back, 
Gleefully gliding down whispering sedately to the floating birds; is a true adventurer.
 
He who can fight the greatest of war without a sword; conquering the mightiest with
prowess of his speech, 
Pacifying the most pugnacious by his benevolent ideas; is a true warrior.
 
He who spreads his entangled net in deep water; going abysmally far inside the sea, 
Encountering acerbic waves and swirling storms; is a true fisherman.
 
He who sends the leather ball whistling past the fence; astronomical distances into the spectator stands; by the silken caress of his bat, 
Running onerously on the field; bolstering the spirit of his team; is a true cricketer.
 
He who recites his dialogues without actually mugging them; speaking with  tremendous empathy in his eyes, 
Blended with loads of charisma in his demeanor; an ingratiating ability to captivate audiences; is a true actor.
 
He who innovates a plethora of incredible formulae; without referring to the rules
and bulky manuscripts, 
Adhering to ingenuous concepts nurtured in his brain; is a true scientist. 
 
He who can sketch mesmerizing shades of nature; synchronized patterns of human beings, 
Without actually getting a chance to confront them; with a mediocre looking pencil; 
is a true artist.
 
He who can detect the problem in an automobile; by simply listening to the whirring of its engine, 
Without peeping into its interior crevices; testing its spark; is a true mechanic.
 
He who can predict our future meticulously without knowing our date of birth; the
exact time we were born, 
By simply glancing at our face; without reading the lines embossed in our palms; is a true astrologer.
 
And he who can understand pain and overwhelming affliction; intense anguish of the bereaved, 
The tyranny of being mutilated; sleepless nights of the destitute without consuming adequate food; helping such people achieve their goals; is a true human GOD.

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