Hello all! This story is part of a journal I am trying to keep. It contains distorted memories, half baked truth and a pinch of fiction. I will try and categorise them as soon as I figure out steem.
#God never takes
Location: Small town
Age: 3 years
Hello cold water, my old foe! Mother says you are my friend. You will keep me tidy and shiny. But I have my doubts. You see, Shinu, my actual friend, loved you. He played with you, dived into you, took mouthful of you and projectiled you to the wall. That was a fun ride, right? And yet you failed to make him tidy. I am talking about those tiny blisters on his face. Mother says they appear when one doesn’t wash one’s mouth after eating. After all that fun he had with you, was the washing really needed? My doubts won’t go away that easy.
And what’s with the goosebumps you give me, every time I touch your face? Is that a greeting from you? A mere “good morning” would suffice. Not to mention the tingle in my spine as mother pours mugs full of you on my body. Its’s my body and it doesn’t like you. If you were my friend, you would really get it. Anyway, the tingle I mentioned earlier doesn’t leave me once you are done. It stays with me. In fact, it travels within my body. From the back, it finds its way to the front, somewhere below my bellybutton. Doesn’t stop at that. Goes beyond, causing me to do absurd things.
You see, every day after we are done with you, I visit the Gods in my house. The visit leads to a shashtang pranaam.
I must lie down, stretching my body and arms. Mother says it helps my words reach you. Mother says it’s a must. I would do it, even if were not a must, unlike eating spinach. That I would never do, if it were not a must. I like stretching my body. And I like the gods too. There’s a monkey god, an elephant-headed god and my favourite, the kid god eating a handful of butter. I love the kid god. He’s Krishna.
He’s exactly like me. I love butter too. Butter makes me happy. It doesn’t give me a tingle. Speaking of the tingle, did you know, it’s still there. As I lie to do my shashtang pranaam, the tingle starts moving again. The cold floor doesn't help either.
As I lie stretched in front of the gods, the tingle moves from below my bellybutton to further down below. I clench my butt cheeks. It comforts me. It has become my move. I have found a way to defeat you, cold water! As I clench, the tingle moves out of my body. My wiener lets it out. Two tiny droplets appear on the floor. Why on the floor? Because I haven’t worn any clothes. I can wear none until I have defeated you. My body shivers a little. Those goosebumps appear for a second too, as if crying out to you, informing you of your lost cause. Today was simply not your day. Try again tomorrow.
Alas! My battle plan doesn’t work for long. Mother has figured out that the dots appear daily, even after you have helped her make the whole house shiny. She confronts me, asks where they come from. “From my wiener” I say. She’s perplexed.
“You urinate in front of the gods?”
“I don’t do it on purpose!”
“Purpose.. no purpose.. How can you do it?”
“Well, I just leave it there. God wouldn’t mind it. It’s just a few droplets of water. It’s my offering to the gods. ”
Mother is paranoid.
“Your offering!!??”
“Yes! Like the sugar pellets you leave for them.”
“That’s holy prasaadam. It’s just sugar”
“Mine’s just water..”
Mother is having a bad day. She takes a deep breath.
“God doesn’t want it. Don’t repeat it.”
“How do you know? How does god need sugar but no water?”
“God doesn’t want anything. God has everything.”
“Well, then why do you leave the sugar?”
Mother takes deep breaths again; then speaks again.
“Who gets to eat the prasaadam that I offer to god?”
“I do.. I like sugar. It’s sweet.”
“Yes! You do.. Because god doesn’t eat it. He doesn’t want it.”
“Then why offer it to him every day?”
“So that he can bless it, for you.”
“Hmmm.. Are you sure he doesn’t want it?”
“Yes son. I am sure. God never takes anything. He just blesses you. That’s all he wants.”
“God’s really good..”
“Yes son. He is. Now promise me. You won’t leave these droplets. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
“What if I do?”
“God would be angry. Now promise me..”
I look at Krishna. He’s looking back at me. He’s smiling, as always, happily eating his handful of butter. I know he can never be angry. But it’s alright. Tomorrow’s another day. I will find a way to defeat you again, cold water! This time I shall be stronger, having eaten the sugar blessed by Krishna himself.
“I promise”, I say.
(All images are from Google)
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