4th November, 2005.
Dear God,
I am not an atheist. But, I am not sure if I believe. After much thinking, I decided that it is wise to believe. Atleast, it is wiser than living as if there is no God, only to die and find out there always was. I write this letter as I have come up against a particularly complicated problem that I cannot extricate myself from. I write to you not only because of the dreadful lack of company but also because you are the ideal consultant in such matters. You have been highly recommended by my mother. Just kidding. I am not really sure what kind of humor they appreciate up there, so kindly forgive me if I miss the mark. I am trying to make the choice on my own, endeavouring to distance myself from bias and prejudice. But, from what I understand, so does everyone else with little or no success. You see, I find it hard to be as optimistic as my mother, always searching for the silver lining. She truly is one of your wonders. My father, however, thought it was a wonder you made her. He pointed it out everytime they had a conversation, which thankfully, was not too often. I'll get to the point. The problem is that I do not know if I should stay or just excuse myself. This day has presented to me, quite compelling arguments for both. Allow me to elucidate.
Today morning, my mother took my brother and me along with her to the hospital for a routine check-up. On the way back, she stopped for breakfast and fed us even though we were not really hungry. A few streets away from home, a poor old man stumbled at her feet. As soon as she helped him get up, he promptly proceeded to cough out blood. This went on for some time, and came to an end when he fainted. Now, naturally, such a situation can be rather disturbing. But she supported him on herself and began grunting her way back to the hospital carrying the weight of four people. Having the perennial luxury of a third person's point of view, I usually see everything coming. But, I did not expect this. The weak old man, who until then was as conscious as a doormat, made one swift movement. In a flash of well-practiced and acquired skill, he broke free, cut the gold chain off my mother's neck, left a neat scar on her left cheek and vanished round the corner. And so, once she had exhausted her tears, she lugged us back to the hospital.
At this moment, I must tell you more about my parents. My mother, you can guess, is what they call God-fearing down here. My father ponders over what there is to fear. Both of them are very cliched. So much so that interest in the truth wanes. She is the ever-smiling, compassionate, trusting, optimistic soul. You know the type. I have not spent enough time with my father to describe him properly, but he is nothing like her. He has a strong dislike for the concept of heaven and hell that my mother so faithfully believed. I must admit that his arguments are hard to refute. He once took the trouble of trying to convince himself and her saying,
"Let us for one moment assume the existence of heaven, ruled by God and hell, ruled by the Devil. We also consider that all evil men will be punished in hell and saints rewarded in heaven establishing the elementary fact that God supports the good and punishes evil and the Devil, otherwise. Now, why would the Devil trouble those with the very attribute that he thrives on? And if he did punish them and subject them to the known unpleasantries, he would be abiding by God's will, working for God. And THAT is not possible. Anyway, what would I do in heaven. You cannot expect me to go to a tea party and chit chat with the Pope now, can you? Agreed, I like the climate, but you know what darling, the company in hell is just so much better. Therefore, even if we were sent to hell, it would be like heaven. Get what I am saying?"
I did. God, why doesn't the bible make so much sense.
Anyway, she got her stitches done and we barely made it back home in one patched up piece. She had just washed up and made lunch when my father came in. I expected her scar to be a topic of discussion but it was not even mentioned. Something more trivial grabbed the spotlight. I did not know that peculiar red marks below the neck can be a big issue but apparently they can. My father was sporting a few of them and for some reason my mother did not approve of it. Always a man of few words, he did little in reply. He emptied his plate's contents on the person who made it and walked out of the house. She went in search of some more tears and upon finding it, promptly shed them as well. Tired of having to carry us troublesome brothers around all the time, she lied down for a nap. She had barely drifted away when my neighbour rang the bell. I quite like the boy, he's very sweet and hard-working. My mother thinks so too. They are not too well off, so whenever he comes asking for money to buy books or something, she gives him a little out of her savings. Today, she was reluctant to give him any because my brother and I are due to come out soon. This pregnancy business can be a costly affair. But, she gave in because his sister had been down with high fever for three days and he had to get something to alleviate it. By now, it was dinner time and any satisfaction my mother had gained from her benevolence had been quashed by the anticipation of my father's arrival. Preparing herself was a wise move. My father came back with six of his friends and as the company was insufficient, they dragged my complaisant mother along to the pub down the road. They were nice enough not to ignore her. They had a lot of fun at her expense. During one of the times when she squirmed and tried to look away, her eyes fell upon someone else she knew in the place. Someone, who was supposed to be at his sister's side but could not because he was restrained by all the revelry. When he saw her, the boy tripped and stumbled his way across the room to her. I assumed he was going to express his gratitude. I was right. He leaned close to her, raised his glass and said, "Thanks for everyth..thing, da..darling."
The mood at the table quickly changed from humour to that of passion. A passion for action. Recognising the need of the hour, my father, ever the man of few words, gave my mother one slap on her left cheek, which tore her stitches and one kick which sent her unconscious to the floor. Then, he dragged her to the car, dumped her inside and with dogged determination went back to complete the mission for which he came to the esteemed establishment.
Now here we are, three of us in this excuse for a car. I do not know when she will wake up, but when she does, she will go in search of some more tears. For a blow intended for my mother, fell instead upon her son, my brother. The only company I had is wasting away in front of my eyes. Thus presents itself before me, this predicament. I do not know if I should stay or leave, when I still can. Although the world itself is reason enough to stay away from it, my mother compensates more than adequately. Therefore dear lord, kindly reply at the earliest so that I can make necessary arrangements.
Thanking you,
(This is where my name is supposed to be)
P.S - How do I post this damned thing?
P.P.S - Kindly excuse the profanity.
Dear God,
I am not an atheist. But, I am not sure if I believe. After much thinking, I decided that it is wise to believe. Atleast, it is wiser than living as if there is no God, only to die and find out there always was. I write this letter as I have come up against a particularly complicated problem that I cannot extricate myself from. I write to you not only because of the dreadful lack of company but also because you are the ideal consultant in such matters. You have been highly recommended by my mother. Just kidding. I am not really sure what kind of humor they appreciate up there, so kindly forgive me if I miss the mark. I am trying to make the choice on my own, endeavouring to distance myself from bias and prejudice. But, from what I understand, so does everyone else with little or no success. You see, I find it hard to be as optimistic as my mother, always searching for the silver lining. She truly is one of your wonders. My father, however, thought it was a wonder you made her. He pointed it out everytime they had a conversation, which thankfully, was not too often. I'll get to the point. The problem is that I do not know if I should stay or just excuse myself. This day has presented to me, quite compelling arguments for both. Allow me to elucidate.
Today morning, my mother took my brother and me along with her to the hospital for a routine check-up. On the way back, she stopped for breakfast and fed us even though we were not really hungry. A few streets away from home, a poor old man stumbled at her feet. As soon as she helped him get up, he promptly proceeded to cough out blood. This went on for some time, and came to an end when he fainted. Now, naturally, such a situation can be rather disturbing. But she supported him on herself and began grunting her way back to the hospital carrying the weight of four people. Having the perennial luxury of a third person's point of view, I usually see everything coming. But, I did not expect this. The weak old man, who until then was as conscious as a doormat, made one swift movement. In a flash of well-practiced and acquired skill, he broke free, cut the gold chain off my mother's neck, left a neat scar on her left cheek and vanished round the corner. And so, once she had exhausted her tears, she lugged us back to the hospital.
At this moment, I must tell you more about my parents. My mother, you can guess, is what they call God-fearing down here. My father ponders over what there is to fear. Both of them are very cliched. So much so that interest in the truth wanes. She is the ever-smiling, compassionate, trusting, optimistic soul. You know the type. I have not spent enough time with my father to describe him properly, but he is nothing like her. He has a strong dislike for the concept of heaven and hell that my mother so faithfully believed. I must admit that his arguments are hard to refute. He once took the trouble of trying to convince himself and her saying,
"Let us for one moment assume the existence of heaven, ruled by God and hell, ruled by the Devil. We also consider that all evil men will be punished in hell and saints rewarded in heaven establishing the elementary fact that God supports the good and punishes evil and the Devil, otherwise. Now, why would the Devil trouble those with the very attribute that he thrives on? And if he did punish them and subject them to the known unpleasantries, he would be abiding by God's will, working for God. And THAT is not possible. Anyway, what would I do in heaven. You cannot expect me to go to a tea party and chit chat with the Pope now, can you? Agreed, I like the climate, but you know what darling, the company in hell is just so much better. Therefore, even if we were sent to hell, it would be like heaven. Get what I am saying?"
I did. God, why doesn't the bible make so much sense.
Anyway, she got her stitches done and we barely made it back home in one patched up piece. She had just washed up and made lunch when my father came in. I expected her scar to be a topic of discussion but it was not even mentioned. Something more trivial grabbed the spotlight. I did not know that peculiar red marks below the neck can be a big issue but apparently they can. My father was sporting a few of them and for some reason my mother did not approve of it. Always a man of few words, he did little in reply. He emptied his plate's contents on the person who made it and walked out of the house. She went in search of some more tears and upon finding it, promptly shed them as well. Tired of having to carry us troublesome brothers around all the time, she lied down for a nap. She had barely drifted away when my neighbour rang the bell. I quite like the boy, he's very sweet and hard-working. My mother thinks so too. They are not too well off, so whenever he comes asking for money to buy books or something, she gives him a little out of her savings. Today, she was reluctant to give him any because my brother and I are due to come out soon. This pregnancy business can be a costly affair. But, she gave in because his sister had been down with high fever for three days and he had to get something to alleviate it. By now, it was dinner time and any satisfaction my mother had gained from her benevolence had been quashed by the anticipation of my father's arrival. Preparing herself was a wise move. My father came back with six of his friends and as the company was insufficient, they dragged my complaisant mother along to the pub down the road. They were nice enough not to ignore her. They had a lot of fun at her expense. During one of the times when she squirmed and tried to look away, her eyes fell upon someone else she knew in the place. Someone, who was supposed to be at his sister's side but could not because he was restrained by all the revelry. When he saw her, the boy tripped and stumbled his way across the room to her. I assumed he was going to express his gratitude. I was right. He leaned close to her, raised his glass and said, "Thanks for everyth..thing, da..darling."
The mood at the table quickly changed from humour to that of passion. A passion for action. Recognising the need of the hour, my father, ever the man of few words, gave my mother one slap on her left cheek, which tore her stitches and one kick which sent her unconscious to the floor. Then, he dragged her to the car, dumped her inside and with dogged determination went back to complete the mission for which he came to the esteemed establishment.
Now here we are, three of us in this excuse for a car. I do not know when she will wake up, but when she does, she will go in search of some more tears. For a blow intended for my mother, fell instead upon her son, my brother. The only company I had is wasting away in front of my eyes. Thus presents itself before me, this predicament. I do not know if I should stay or leave, when I still can. Although the world itself is reason enough to stay away from it, my mother compensates more than adequately. Therefore dear lord, kindly reply at the earliest so that I can make necessary arrangements.
Thanking you,
(This is where my name is supposed to be)
P.S - How do I post this damned thing?
P.P.S - Kindly excuse the profanity.
11 comments:
I advocate nothing of the sort bud. I normally write on a lighter vein and expect it to be read that way. Personally, my concept of God is rather complicated. In any case, I am absolutely against any kind of religious or anti-religious campaign and classroom teachings. mono, poly or a-theism should be chosen by an individual without any external influences and kept to himself.
funny...:)..unexpected.
Sujan
a letter from the mother to God...
dear God,
a lot of things have happened to me today...a very weak old man robbed me of my chain and gave me a cut on my cheek.i wonder why he had to resort to such means...must be in a lot of trouble,can you please find it in your heart to help him?also my husband has hurt me...im so sad that he does not realise,he is losing his son.he would be heart broken if he knew what he did..please save my son so that he doesnt have to go through that agony...i almost forgot,please forgive the boy next door he is too young to understand what he is doing,besides i think his sister is really sick.thats all about me.hows the world going?i know that u will do a great job abot it..
love you,
your daughter.
----------------------------------
faith makes all the difference in how you look at things...isnt the above a better way to look at things??
It undoubtedly is darling. But, I couldn't look at it that way. It dealt with too much optimism and happiness.
1. Hope is concurrently, man's greatest friend and his worst enemy.
2. In your version, the mother searches and researches and finds the good in people. Unfortunately, my understanding of things is different. Most do not notice how good people are. But their imperfections and mistakes are as obvious as Godzilla riding a bicycle around Manhattan.
3. Show me a woman who would forgive the husband inspite of everything he did and be happy with him; even if he was willing to turn a new leaf. Not blaming her, but I don't think a woman who would put up with such a husband for long exists. Let alone forgive him and be happy in the situation.
I know it's fiction, but I can only draw from my understanding till date. But yes, you are right. You're a far better person than I am. And more people who think like you would make a better world.
Don't be hasty in making a generalized "no woman would do that" statement. no scope for me to say 'speak for yourself' .. but i believe i've seen lots of examples, of women, taking enough and more shit, only because they live in an eternal hope that someday, it will stop, someday, hell would become heaven, and someday, i'm going to be happy. and if everyone decided to look at hope as a relative good/bad thing, one would never exist long enough to even judge situations..
and pardon me if i forgot the contents of the blog, it was too big to re-read..just a response to your response.. ;-)
ps-->and sadly, that wasn't me. actually, not sadly. i think i look at the world as a darker place, faith is a solid support, but the world with all my faith, is still a dark place. just doesn't get darker.
Shreya Sweetheart...I probably shouldn't have made an extreme generalization. I'm not saying that women won't hang on for a while to see if it gets better. Some hang on far more than the others, but, in the end they all quit. And it's a good thing.
All I'm saying is no one is going to delusional about the situation they are in. And everyone cracks, sooner or later.....
if you choose not to quit, you don't. then hope just goes out of the window, and it's just sheer will.
Hmmm...You know, the way you put it, it sounds really nice. And I used to think it is, but I realized that I was being self-centred.
It's really nice to know a girl like that, who wouldn't give up and all. But, it's not too nice for the girl though.
oh please, tell me that wasn't the least bit indicative!! and i shan't believe you anyway. but let's just say, girls generally maybe put up with 'shit' a lot more than guys do, but some of them put up with shit all their life, as a matter of will, so to speak, than as a matter of policy, and some others say, well, why not give up on the 'shit' .. let's see how that works.. and it's ultimately *all* selfish, because it's for your own bloody good.
and maybe i should stop giving you gyan on this the second i complete the link.. ;)
My god woman....I'm not going to have one of those Man Vs. Woman arguments with you here. :) . Call me....if you can. :D .
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