To God and You

A few months back, I was waiting for one of those official-life-depends-on-it types letter to arrive, and it was beyond late. Thus for the sake of my dear life, I did the obvious, and  prayed to God. During these frequent episodes of fervent praying, I began to wonder about God? Is the almighty the one who is found in our prayer rooms, or the soul within us? Prophets have dictated so many answers, that the truth suddenly seemed obscure. I wondered how God works. I wanted God to help deliver the letter. However, obviously God wouldn’t be coming on my doorstep. A postman will do that job. Then will God tell the postman to deliver the letter soon? No again. The post office department is going to take care of that. Then what?  Will God go ahead to give a man visions about how a desperate girl in some faraway city is looking with puppy eyes for him to post a letter. No, the man himself and his superior are going to be responsible for it. So is my God that one superior, bestowed with the powers to decide my fate? I wanted to talk to my mom about this, but she was somewhat busy at that time, waiting for the maid, and she, like me, was praying to God so that the maid comes, as there was a pile of washing to be done. But just like the postman, God, I am sure, wasn't enlightening the maid about her duties. So, again, who is God?

The Books tell us that our actions determine us, and in a way, God’s work is done via our deeds. It’s true, I suppose. But then terrorism is all around us and is the cause of numerous deaths and the destruction of countless families. And they too believe they are doing the work of God. Does that mean God is smiting us for something we did or didn’t do? I find that pretty illogical. Unless God is mad scientist, how can a creator go ahead to destroy his own precious creations? Thinking this far I began to remember God’s dimensions. He is omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, is everywhere, amongst us, beyond us, within us.

If we look at a larger picture, there are some billion people on this planet. Each in his or her own small way affects our life. The delivery boy makes sure the CEO gets his mails. The coffee bean picker in some South American village makes sure CCD continues to make many things happen over its cup of coffee. The president makes an intelligent decision thanks to the peace his wife ensured in his own home and thus another day of World War 3 avoided. So many people, surrounding us, hearing, seeing everything we do or have done, decide what we can do the next moment. They give us the opportunity to make sure our lives are as smooth as we expect it to be. (Now natural disasters are something else, and since Mother Nature is a woman I doubt any He can handle her.) So, is God actually the billions of people on this earth? Is God just the representation of this ever-growing number, the “X” of the equation which never stops changing?

So, is love thy neighbor just a divine command? Or that fellow human being who does indeed have the power to deliver your letter on time deserves that respect for the simple reasons? So whom do I pray to now? Personally, without the random events of nature and the universe, I would have been lost, because somehow the letter did come that day, as did the maid and thus another day passed.

(After I gave this theory to my mother, it infuriated her. She asked whether that means she puts up her and my picture and starts worshiping those? Not a bad idea, though). So, if this entire theory does go against your moral ideas, which I am pretty sure it would, check that blood pressure and don't get angry and start cussing. I pray to you. Right now, you are my God.

An Odyssey

If you had been here now,

You would have seen a cat

Sitting quietly in a corner of the street;

And listened to the duet of the silent night,

And the chirping bird,

Who forgot what night and day mean.

Had you been here

You would have felt the breeze,

As it would have cooled your sun warmed cheeks,

The starry night would have smiled down

And told you, why

Van Gogh loved her more than the sun’s streaks.

You might have enjoyed walking

The solitary road,

Loneliness wouldn't have touched you still;

Your own slow stride would have ruled the path,

And the race of man

Wouldn’t have trampled your prints.

As you would have made your way

With the living around you,

Safe in their beds, sleep oozing from their doors,

You might have had noticed,

A dreamless window,

Sighs clogging its every pore.

Had you looked there,

You would have found a soul,

Detached, yet forlorn;

A silent audience of the night

Lurking in shadows,

Torn.

Would you have looked closely

To find the secret?

Would you have waited to investigate?

The beauty of night is a cruel seductress,

Would you have delayed

Just a bit?

As the unknown entwines with magic,

And the breeze blows coolly

Pulling you,

Would you have walked, not looking back,

Or would you knock the door,

To make someone’s dream come true?

In Furious Memoriam

The one frozen moment when that beautiful white hot rage fills you up perfectly, and the supreme powerful being in this universe manifests itself through you; when a slight gesture of that almighty entity is enough to infest a destruction so huge, recovery seems wretched and unrealistic : What would you do when you get that power of the gods? Would you strike thunder, laugh at the shock of your victim? Or would you be the wise owl, and smile at your opponent’s perplexed face when no retaliation occurs?

Anger is a drug, and the release of this rage is probably the greatest consummation of human emotions. The moment the monstrous hold lets go and you escape in to that selfish joy of being victorious over your petty adversary, is simply intoxicating. But just that, it's just for that miniscule of moment, not a bit more. As the haze of white clears, red diminishes and all the colours surface again, you realize you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to your own personal pit of inferno. You may pretend otherwise, but it is inescapable, at least in the privacy of your closed doors. And you end up wondering, was it all worth it?

Now I am no moralist. I am a staunch believer of convenience, and pity doesn’t really take us anywhere. I have had my share of anger, and what I see from all those white bright sparks of wrath, I understand why hell doesn’t have an owl. I fought with someone, and the next day I had to fix my broken phone; another time I had to buy my own dinner. Once I couldn’t talk for three days as my throat had gone sore from all that shouting, and then there was also that time when I had to miss my favourite show because intoxication always leaves a bad taste with a hangover. So, I sold my anger for patience, and though I can’t say it easy, but at least I don’t have to think about making my own dinner or miss my shows. Let's face it, anger isn't all that "hot", and peace is oh-so-good!

Thus, this isn't me, lecturing about anger management. It’s just me telling, dude it's just not worth it. If you want to feel powerful, shout in a rock concert or may try breaking a wall. That might teach you something (like common sense, or get you a record deal or may be you would turn out to be Superman or Hulk. Go figure!).

Cheers..! :)

p.s I was really pissed a while back. But I managed and saved my lunch, wrote this amazing sh*t and now grooving with Lil Wayne :D

p.p.s I hope the Garfield pic isn't copyright infringement.