What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin' to make His way home?
We want to believe in higher powers that sometimes grant our wishes and sometimes don’t, because they are all-powerful and can do as they please. But what if they are not, and they are trying, and this really is the best they can do? What if this is just how it is?
That night, Ganeshji came in a beige dhoti. He was missing his earlier ebullience. He waddled over to my fridge while Moushak headed straight to my room.
He pursed his lips at what was in the fridge, which was foul smelling milk and the end slices of bread. He walked past the dining table and over to my window sill to inspect a plushie of himself, another not-so-subtle gift from Amit. But even the god of beginnings had not been able to help me with the beginning of my novel. He studied his own replica, flicked off the dust with a finger, slowing down as he felt around the belly.
“Do you think this is a realistic rendering?” He looked at me earnestly, urgently.
I saw him sucking his belly in, ever so slightly.
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