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Its frigid cold outside and I have been lodged on to this couch for the last few days, literally. I get swift smoke breaks every couple of hours or get up to go use the bathroom. I gaze outside the moist and foggy window and see some Mexicans cooking some thing on their grill with beer bottles wrapped in brown paper bags in their hands.
My sister looks and snitches her nose and says, “ Feri Gai ko Masu Pakayo Mora Haru Le “.
On the other hand I wanted a beer so bad and that beef looked rather tasty. Its time for a smoke break again. I still had about a carton of Sikhar Cigarettes from back home. The guys grabbed the entire carton claiming they were craving home made cigarettes, so I let them have the Surya.
I yelled out, “Didi, I’m going out for a little walk inside the complex”.
She yelled back “Its cold put on something warm”.
As I walked down the stairs the Mexicans stopped talking and stared at me. I gave them a half way smile and walked away with no further eye contact.Both of them looked like they were in their mid-twenties and dressed alike, in khakis and white t-shirts. I headed towards the Laundry room. It was too cold to be smoking outside, the wind made it even worse; it felt like it would slice you up if you stayed out long enough.
The laundry room had the heat on but had a big No Smoking sign at the door. There were two older ladies chit chatting, waiting for their clothes to dry up and one of them was smoking.
I thought I’d ask and as she took notice of me entering I asked “Can you smoke in here? “.
She swiftly replied, “Baby, I ain’t going out in that cold, “and continued her conversation with the other lady.
I pulled out my Sikhar and lit one up. I stood close to the door to let the smoke out and it made me feel like I wasn’t actually smoking inside the room. It started to drizzle a little bit and it was getting dark quickly. I pulled my hoodie on and started walking towards the building.All those buildings looked the same had it not been for the numbers and of course I could follow the smell of that grill.
All of a sudden I hear the ground under me rumble to a steady beat . I turned my head around and it was a White Cadillac with tints on its windows and hip-hop music playing with all its might. It rolled past me slow. It almost stopped as if to check who I was. It was dark outside and the tints made sure i could not she who was inside. But it moved on and took the turn around the corner. I took about ten steps jumping over little puddles of water, almost running for some weird urgency that crept inside me.
Right when I was about to take that turn I hear ‘thud-thud-thud’ and the sound of tires squeaking on the wet concrete. My first instinct was to duck because I did not exactly know where this was happening. I waited for about a minute to access the situation and took off running towards the apartment instinctively.
As I approach the stairs,a smell of burnt meat filled the air and there lay the same two Mexicans on the wet winter floor in a pool of blood.
I ran franticly without looking back.
I reached the doorstep and the door opened even before I could knock.
“Where have you been, did you hear what I heard? “
She kept on going on about how she never wanted to move to this neighborhood in the first place.
“We are moving to Boston soon, where Maya didi and her family live”, she rushed to check on the baby who was sleeping in the bedroom.
I sat on the same sofa speechless and wet. I Gazed out that same murky window, now in my sight were, fire trucks and police cars with their red-blue lights on.
Caught a Lightning in the Distance.
“Dude you are always facing problems, everyday, it’s all because you don’t pray”,Mr.X my employer almost says that to me everyday.
Is he threatening me or is he just making a suggestion?
He was brought up in an affluent Islamic family by a single mom who pretty much made it so far without a man in her life, in a foreign land. She pulled through rooted in her strong beliefs and passed those beliefs on to them.Both he and his brother turned out to be fine young men, Mr.X rather immature at times however. I grew up a middle class Brahmin kid with religion all around me but none of those factors influencing me the way they were installed in Mr.X.
He asks me at times what do you believe in. I have no answer for him. He jokes the elephant god “Ganesha”?
The concept of 33 million gods is beyond his and my grasp.So i do not even bother explaining.What do we Hindus believe in really?Honestly, I really do not know.
Christians believe in Jesus, Muslims believe in Allah, What the fuck do I believe in?
Shiva ? Bramah ? Vishnu ? Ganesh ? Ram ? Krishna?
Who is my god?
This is too confusing, but I really do not need an answer neither.
He keeps pushing the ideology that all that he has is due to the blessing of god upon him and his family. Is it really? Isn’t it because you were born in a rich family and you have more time than I do to think about god? And isn’t the lack of anxiety and worry your reason of thanking god? Half the time that I am conscious, I am thinking of how to make that next bill and countless other things that make living a constant struggle for me. A lot of times I thought may be it is the lack of godly presence that has made me see these days of struggle and misfortune. Thus, I paused and I prayed. I closed my eyes and prayed. I cried in silence. But I am not as patient as I probably should have been, but the irony is, I begged ‘god’ for patience and strength to believe in him.
I respect an individual’s right to be religious and follow a lifestyle. But I do not believe hypocrites and these God Goons either. Who say they are on the road that god created for them and consciously veer on to allies commit their ‘sins’ and merge right back into that road like they never sidetracked. At least I do what I do and I have no regrets. I do not claim to be an atheist but I am yet to meet an individual or encounter anything that could inspire me to believe in the existence of god in a logical way, the way I crave to understand him in. Till then god remains in my intellectual curiosity and these fuckin’ God Goons keep on taunting me.
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