Saturday, November 26, 2005
A story disconnected to reality..
It was one of those lazy evenings when you don't even want to open your mouth to talk, but instead wish that empty cartoon balloons just pop near your mouth and get filled with what you want to speak. I was cuddled on the bed with a cosy book, good music and contentment.Hence, at peace with this world, I was thinking about how powerful God is to orchestrate this entire world and that he should be called the Father of Management and not Peter Drucker( no offense meant, but I reckon he is with God now).I had a million questions to ask Him. Not about world peace, apartheid, terrorism or the injustice in the world. I am sure more than a million such questions are skyrocketed towards him from all possible prayer houses in this world and he must have blocked all the questions containing these keywords, which is obvious from the present state of the world.
Somehow, these coloured scripts in my thought bubbles seemed to have attracted His attention and I could hear a voice in my room. I didnt expect his arrival to be so undramatic. Having grown on a staple diet of divine soaps on television, I expected a flash of thunder and lightning followed by God's presence in a mystic halo accompanied by a sonorous voice. Instead I found an old guy with a Frank Zappa moustache and sporting a T shirt spelling G-O-D staring back at me. His eyes were twinkling and I found the entire air between us to be charged with something like static electricity. Bubbles seemed to form from his head too and it read - follow me. He walked through the wall, leaving a 'his' shaped hole in it. I gingerly stepped through the wall to find a dense, grassy forest full of promise and possibilites. Tender, fresh and warm sunlight gleamed through the branches holding the innocence of a new born world.
And then I woke up. But the possibilities remain...