Love Works

God knocked on my door last night. I opened up wide to let him in. And voila! There he was, with all his glory, with his head turned sideways, blushing a little, looking a bit shy, saying-

“Hey buddy, would you close the door and come outside for a minute?”

“Why god why?”, replied I.

“Well, you know, the ‘others’ might be listening,” he blushed again.

-“Sorry, the ‘others’ who?”

-“Well, you know…”

I made a straight face at that point because I have had enough, and I slammed the door shut on his godforsaken face.

But that wasn’t the end of it, was it?

No way. God appeared to me again in a dream that night, with all his might, saying, “I’ll punish you for what you have done. You’re gonna pay for it, son. You gon pay for it all…”

Then I woke up sweating. Drank a glass of water to find the day was new again and the sun was gleaming outside my bedroom window. Afterwards, I had a healthy oatmeal breakfast and forgot about that encounter with the deity almighty entirely. Instead, I started thinking about love.

Hey, but, God IS Love, no?

Perhaps.

Then why does it never work?

It’s always us doing all the work.

Love does nothing! Just sits there and…

But I was so damn wrong. Love was already there.

Love was in the air.

I was already breathing love and exhuming the fumes all around me. Some would inhale it with all its blessings while some would wear strange mouth barriers and deny its fundamental value in our lives, going to the kitchen market only to buy it back to our homely domes where love enters the freezer, finely chopped into symmetrical cubes for later consumption. Sometimes after a good & healthy dinner of love we’d put it on our hair, or in the tyres where it will ensure us safety, productivity, prosperity, harmony and…

Bam! I was flung onto the steep climb of Sultana Kamal Bridge (No, not the yellow one from Extraction movie. The REAL one). Anywho it was equally dangerous, my head with a helmet crashed onto the freshly pitched pavement and I was darn lucky that an intercity bus or a raging truck didn’t run over my puny body… or was it not plain luck but divine intervention that rescued me so? While I was thinking these stuff, some local kids encircled me to see the freak show and one of them chuckled, “I told you you’d be punished for what you did, didn’t I?” -”Hey, what did you say?”- I tried to get up and chase after him but there was no one else there but only you again, love. And you said over the telephone-

“Shhh. Stay absolutely still. I’m going to kiss you now.” 

-“But, I’m at a party right now… maybe later tonight when I go home?”

-”You just have to ruin it every time, don’t you?”

-”I… I’m sorry…”

But sorrow doesn’t cut it. It never did. Why would you feel sorry for someone who can only feel the feelings but never can articulate it very well? Why would anyone feel sorry for those who can look you in the eye with only the hope of receiving some affection, or maybe a dream come true, or make new dreams to fill up their souls with but never a plea, not even a flinch, just humble (!) submission to the almighty greedy and his…

-“Hey, are you talking about me, boy?” -a cloud roared.

-”Huh? What? I didn’t even say anything!” -I was bamboozled by this disturbance.

-”Well, you were thinking out loud. You know I can hear all your thoughts, right?” -the cloud roared twice this time. It was about to rain.

I tried to get my shit together and hurry back home before the downpour, but it was too late. Clouds started pissing on me with their full force, sometimes crack laughing, sometimes whispering in a conspiratory rhythm, “I got you noww, I got you nowww. Ahhhahahahahahaaaaa”. I didn’t even know if I could get back home in one piece because it was all dark, the rain blocked my eyesight and the sights of those monster vehicles raging behind me, ground below me soaking wet making the tyres betray and nearly slip, but soon it all didn’t matter anymore because the world slowed down until everything slowly disappeared and you were again here and I complained to you, as if we were kids again-

“I used to love the rain you know. Why are the clouds doing this to me? Why are they pissing and laughing and… hey, is it ‘his’ doing!?”

-”Shhhh. Don’t be silly. You still love the rain,” you said in your usual soft, calming voice, “Look around you. The rain does not belong to anyone. The rain falls for all.”

-”Like you ‘belong’ to no one? We opened up to each other so much, still you left me. You left ‘us’ behind. You don’t know how much that hurts.”

You sighed then, because maybe you thought I was doing the same old whining again, but after a moment, you said-

“That is not the reason I walked away. You started idolizing me, like ‘he’ had been idolized over centuries. Please don’t ever do that again, my love. Not with me, not with anybody or anything else.”

I didn’t know what to say after that, as usual. So I put a stupid smile on my face and said, “You look beautiful with your animal friends.”

“I miss you too,” you smiled, and at that moment I knew. I knew that I will always fight for you, whether it’s the ‘you’ in there or the you inside of me. 

Maybe then you would say, “Won’t that be a waste of time?”.

But I would protest, “No, it would be a life worth living…”

.

.

.

.

The story was supposed to end here, because all cute stories end with a cute, happy note. This story, however, is not a cute story, for we (or I… whatever…) still have to atone for our sins. There remains one final encounter with the Lord in all his vengeful might. Hence let us summon him, oh fellow chanters, chant with me, here comes the heaven, here comes the light, with all his glory, with all his migh…

-”Stfu you cu**! How did you like my piss oil? I hope it drenched you well. I shalt lynch you 1st in soy sauce, then deep fry you with bread crumbs and eat you now.”

-”Hey now wait a second,” I no longer trembled before him but said like a concerned citizen, “You like delicious stuff right? Something juicy, something spicy?”

-”Yeah, duh! But why?”, God sounded a little confused I think.

-”Well, how’d you like your own juicy, light-y taste? Have you heard of cultured meat grown from stem cells? Now you can literally eat yourself!”

-”Wtf! You aren’t messing with me, are you boi?” -said he, raising an eyebrow.

-”What noooo! You gave us brainz to invent all these crazy stuff, remember?”

-”Aight, valid point. K I’ll go check it out.”

Then poof! God vanished. And ever since that encounter, I never saw him again in my life, never felt his presence, not even once!

Now you can talk all yada yada all day about sins & atonement & all, but I did the right thing there, you see? I gave God the very thing he always wanted- the taste of his own yummy flesh. We were all ‘created’ from his light? No? Which was later mixed with mud & minerals and other yucky stuff and turned into flesh & bones? And ever since said ‘creation’- he’s been taxing on us- eating us- or more like, eating gazillions of sentient ‘replicas’ of himself. So why can he not simply go ahead and eat himself, if technology and human prowess makes it truly possible?

Yeah, why not? Win win for all.

Mommy happy. Tummy happy.

Ta Da!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s