35. MY HEART WAS PURE INDIAN
The cheese that I had for morning breakfast was pure Italian; with its tanginess drowning me into waves of euphoria,
The ring adorning my finger was from the ancient pyramids of Arabia; glistening splendidly all day and night,
The shampoo that I used; was a herbal extract from the caves of Mount Everest; impregnating my hair with a satiny caress,
The calculator I used; was from Japan; deciphering mind-boggling puzzles within lightening fraction of seconds,
The shoes I wore were colonial British; woven with exquisite quality leather,
The watch on my wrists was authentically Swiss; shimmering majestically under the moonlight,
The scents that lines my mantelpiece; were from the deserts of Arabia; replacing all stink with their mesmerizing redolence,
The belt that held my pant single piece; was evolved from the skin of African python,
The ice cubes that floated in my glass of whisky; were from the summit of the frozen Himalayas,
The carpets engulfing every floor of my dwelling; were stitched with exclusive quality Persian wool,
The gallons of water that I consumed every hour; were extracted from the pristine springs of the Alps,
The mascara embellishing my eyelashes; was from the markets of ravishing France; that attracted every female inevitably towards me,
The food that I gulped for nocturnal supper; was from the delectable kitchens of Turkey,
The clothes that I used to cover my shivering skin; were from the contemporary and gaudy showrooms of America,
The conch shells that I used to announce my voice to the world; were from the coastal islands of Australia,
The roses that were fitted adorably in my vase; were from the sprawling gardens
of China,
The tea that I sipped with enormous pleasure; was made from petals strewn in the orchards of Pakistan,
Infact even the contraptions I used to measure my intimate heart beat was of precision quality and pure German,
While inspite of all these; I still had the greatest reverence for the soil
I was born in; my heart was pure Indian.