I tossed and I turned and then, like jack in the box, sprung up to action. It was decided. I had made up my mind. I was going to write a letter. To God.
Sounded weird to me too. But what the heck. If he’s too busy to listen to you or just too confused like Bruce in Bruce almighty, then as well find the next best bet. A letter. Written in my own curvy handwriting, signed by who else but me. He ought not to miss that one, I thought. Think about it. One day, you pass by your rusted old post box and ask yourself, hmm..so lets’ see what’s going on in there after all! You open it and voila! You find a letter. A handwritten, stamped, licked and pasted letter. What do you do? Option A: Say, oh jolly! There’s a letter in there. Shut the box and walk on or Option B: Say, oh jolly! There’s a letter in there. Take it out, eyebrows still raised, mouth still half open, walk to your door, get in, sit down and read it. Eyebrows and mouth still the same. Option 1 if you’re just too cold. Option 2 if you’re normal.
God’s a nice guy. He’s probably a lot more than normal. But he’s really nice. Really. Ya perhaps a little too busy these days listening to the news and shaking his head. Regretting Adam. And then Eve. And then the apple. And all of that. But he’s sure to walk by that letter box some day. And find my letter in there.
So I begin. Dear God. Will fish curry do for lunch? That was amma preparing her menu for the day. And making sure it had what I liked, in it. Moms can be weird, right? Anyways, I reply with a ho-hum and move on to my letter. Dear God, I’m sad and alone. Dad calling. My phone sings and beeps and vibrates altogether and I have no choice but answer.
Hello molu. Your phone bill’s been pending for a while and so I paid it.
Thanks cha. Bye. Will pay you later.
Dear God, I continue, I’m sad and alone and have nothing in life to look forward to. I hate my life. Are you listening?
Phones should be banned. They just don’t leave you alone. Ugh! This time it’s Juhi. Must be some stupid Sardar joke of hers. I read her message. Babe! Pondi this weekend, the whole gang’s there. You game right?
I chose not to reply. I’m depressed and have work to finish.
Back to the letter. I find myself at loss of words. I’m stuck and I can’t seem to write anymore. But I’m depressed. I’m sad. Alone. I have so much to cry about. So much to complain about. Life’s so unfair. God needs to know that. I close my book, irritated, get on to my bed, and lie there thinking. Not before long, I’m asleep. Amma walks in, finds me sleeping and pulls over a blanket on me.
I guess God’s been talking and I haven’t been listening.