My Open Letters to God

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This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 6, the sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers, where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

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Dear God,

The year 1978 was sort of a wonder year. It was pretty similar to 1977, and pre-cursor to 1979. This was also the year when Rakhi Sawant's parents were planning to make Rakhi Sawant. This was also the year when you kicked me off to this planet.

But I guess, in every birth, I am invariably sentenced to a life-term in the middle class. My strive for that 'silver spoon' is an unfulfilled bliss. Courtesy Pichle Janam ka Raaz, I now know that I was a poor-grader even in my previous birth. And in the previous-to-previous birth too. In fact, if I rewind all the way back to the 10th century, I now recall that I was another moron studying engineering in the Nalanda University, and that too because my brahmin father Vatsyayana happened to be the Dean. I was pretty bad at Bhaskara's mathematics. In fact, Aryabhatta ended up discovering ZERO while grading my Sanskrit papers. But, dear God, even though my grades were bad, I was an 'A-ranker' in vocational courses like nude sculpting. I did well even in 'Kamasutra Pyrotechnics', where I did my homework and lab experiments with utmost sincerity. Oops, I am digressing...

As I deal with my life's musings, I find myself staring at a very bleak future - a pre-ordained, generic one at that. Crazy me, I still entertain hopes of leaving my unique mark behind, before my next birth into another middle-class household. But, I have had enough of this ordinary existence. Bad Karma. Period.

Anyway, the purpose of this letter is different. I have forgiven your partisanship in my previous births. But not this time around. Let me take thirty seconds of your valuable time and put forth the whereabouts of my few desires.

Wish 1 - Attention and Affection: Yes sir, I am always last in the queue, in the longest of queues. Even my kids know that. I make it to every single Dumb-ass list, even if some lists have only one entry. People engage me in small-talk simply because I amuse them, and am an easy target for one of those chain-marketing ideas like Amway et al. Please reverse all that and more.

Wish 2 - Insane money: In his morning signatures, my father-in-law chants "Bhargo Devasaya Dheemahi, Dhiyo Yo Naha Prachodayat" requesting you, 'the embodiment of knowledge and light' to 'enlighten his intellect'. Can you please (and please and please and..) listen to his prayers and lead him to LIGHT. And while you do that, please get him to sign his Will in my name.

Wish 3 - A White, away from India: Haven't I been tormented enough by my relatives? I have documented every relative of mine and their dysfunctional interference in my personal life. In fact, the Animal Planet' channel runs a special program on some of my relatives. I want to be stationed far away from this country, where I can avoid their logic-defying acts. Even better, if I can be a White!!

Wish 4 - More entertainment: The country is galloping fast at double-digit growth rate. Then, there is violence and sex, and sex by violence and violent sex as well. This is disgusting and I am loving it. Some more please.

Dear God, you must finally relent and let me have my way this time. I, hereby, earnestly request you to transform me into a meaningful conglomeration of molecules, with my above desires fulfilled.

Uselessly yours,

The Talking Skull

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Dear Talking Skull,

Tathaastu!!

Good Luck,
God

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ZZZZZZZAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!

Suddenly, there was a blinding light, and a la Matrix, I got transported to a different world. Oh, yes, this was America. New Jersey, to be precise. Now, even though you know it, New Jersey (NJ) is full of Indians - the Desis - and like entropy, their size keeps increasing. And, there I was. Whiter than white, and bigger than big. Oh, I am a COW now - the New Jersey Cow - one of the udderly massive variants, unlike their skinny, dirty cousins in India.

I was standing there in the garden outside a huge mansion that had 'Hare Ram' embossed on the arch. There was an American flag, an Indian flag and three striped underwears fluttering on the balcony. This is definitely my sasuraal, I guessed. And, I could also see about 82-odd Indians, all nattily dressed. Hmm... the Desis are celebrating the 'Gau Diwas' in NJ. And, so was I, all decked up as the center of attention. I was the indeed garnering lots of adulation, with people around 'petting' me. I would occasionally get tickled when some brat would get between my legs, push my tail up and pet me on my erogenous zones. The air was shrill with bawdy Sanskrit shlokas on how cow gives and gives and gives....

And, there was my father-in-law (F-I-L) near the stage, attending to the guests. Why would a perfectly normal and happy F-I-L suddenly move to the US and have a cow. Why? There must be a reason reasons. For my F-I-L, is it one more feather in his cap during his long life of seeking feathers for his cap?.... ...like having himself photographed with AR Rahman in Dubai Airport or filling his farm-house with 45" plasmas.

Meanwhile, my portly F-I-L walked on to the stage and made a life-altering announcement. Life-altering for me, that is. "My desi friends, I have decided to migrate my cow-farming business to this land of the morally corrupt. This fabulous cow that you see is my first acquisition here. I have invested ALL my savings in this ONE holy cow. I am now going to breed it day in day out... heh.. .heh... We have also tied up with the local Hare Krishna Association to package its urine as Cow-Cola. With the launch of Cow-Cola in four different variants, we are confident of capturing the local beverages market. Henceforth, being pissed off will be a pleasant experience.. heh... heh... ", he remarked with a disgraceful grimace amidst venerated applause.

Cowreena Kapoor, a leading Bollywood actress, had been roped in as the brand ambassador. “This Cow-Cola stuff is pretty coool! I wonder why nobody ever made this before!”, cooed an excited Cowreena Kappor. When asked why she liked it, she replied with an emphasized 'r' for the local Americans, “Because . . u'know, it's like, so orr-ganic! Yu'know – itz. . .uh . . verry . . well, it's orrganic!”, and giggled incoherently.

So, the God has been smart. He made me 'white', 'phoren-ed', 'rich', 'adorable', 'productive' and 'sexophalic' - all that I had wished for and yet everything I did not want to be. God does look for creative ideas to combat serious problems. But in my case, it has just substituted one empty life in India for another one here.

How surreal!! Why can't I accept myself for what I am and live in peace? Well, I can go on and on, along this convoluted train of thought. But, I won't. It is time to be back to my ordained form.

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Dear God,

Oh God, please pardon this remorseless, brainless vermin in me, who sees a conspiracy in every move of yours. Please turn me back to whatever I was.

Udderly Sorry,

The Talking Skull
Wow-the-Cow@cowcola.com

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Dear Talking Scum,

You asked me to treat you like a prince, so I pulled the chair from underneath you, deposed you, took all your great belongings, as Maharaja-days are long over.

Anyway... Tathaastu!!

Love,

God

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ZZZZZZZAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!

I am back to my normal self now, and vow that I will never ever write a letter to the Almighty.....

PS: Dear Father-in-law, and my other in-laws, This post was written only in jest, and in state of inebriation. Hence, please ignore the contents above. Categorically speaking, I have no interest in your riches. However, I cannot say the same for my wife.

PS: The God rang me over the weekend, and told me that he may consider a better re-incarnation for me if I could get 51 bloggers to promote this post on Indivine. Hence, if you are an IndiBlogger, please contribute generously.

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