Skip to main content

Chapter Five: My Greatest Devotee

Most people call it an alarm; however, I call it the 7 o'clock bell. This 7 o'clock bell, as I say, has contributed more to my life than anyone else. What’s interesting is that I never made an effort to find out where this 7 o'clock bell comes from.

They say curiosity kills the cat, but satisfaction brings it back. And who am I to deny an old saying like that? So, I packed my bags, left my table, and went on an adventure to find the 7 o'clock bell.

After just four precious hours of searching, I discovered that it came from an old temple nearby. I wouldn’t say whether I was satisfied or not, but I was pleased to meet an old friend of mine—God, the Almighty, the one above all.

I wouldn’t say whether I love God or not, but what I do love are the adventures He tells. And today’s adventures are straight from my dear friend, God.

My Greatest Devotee 


From the realms where time wanders, 
I cast my gaze on mortal plight. 
I witness their struggles, day and night, 
Guiding them through time’s endless flight. 
For I am God, the Almighty Light.

Today, my dear child, I shall tell you a story of Navkarpuri— 
Navkarpuri, or as a simple man calls it, a small town in a distant land. 
A summer in this land is dreaded, 
But the monsoon is what they despise. 
I never understood why. 
They said, “We grow crops,” so I said, “Let it rain.” 
They then cursed me for muddy roads, so I said, “No rain.” 
They then cursed me for famine. 
Oh, the deep trouble of being God!

I must tell you, I don’t have favorites, 
But I really liked this priest in Navkarpuri. 
His name was Ramchandra Ramaswami. 
He was my greatest devotee, but he was poor. 
He was also very greedy, but I don’t blame him for it. 
I never made perfect humans— 
That’s an imperfection of mine. 
But nevertheless, I am, after all, God.

He really loved those tiny metal coins, 
So all he ever asked for was them. 
I, of course, am very generous; 
I gave him several metal coins. 
But he wanted more. 
Oh, how greedy, I thought—but that was my mistake. 
I should have made a perfect devotee, but nevertheless, I am God.

Once, I made it flood so heavily that it destroyed all in its path. 
Why, you may ask? Oh, dear child of mine, have patience. 
I shall tell you the most interesting tale. 
In this rain and flood, where muddy roads held fast, 
The king’s carriage became stuck. 
In this distant land of Navkarpuri, 
The king had no choice but to seek shelter. 
And, as you may have guessed, 
He came to the temple of my dear devotee— 
A greedy one, but nevertheless a devotee. 
The king rested and ate, 
Sleeping on the temple’s floor while the priest tended to him.

Pleased with the priest’s actions, he wanted to reward him. 
So, he thought, “What better way to reward a devotee than to reward his master?” 
He commissioned the greatest bell, filled with jewels, 
And hung it in the temple, pleased with his generosity. 
I was pleased, too, thinking the priest might take it, 
For my greatest devotee would surely know that my imperfection is not greed, 
But my inability to make perfect humans.

You might think this a fine fairy tale, but reality had other plans. 
The priest was not pleased—he was furious. 
To him, I was the greedy one who stole his credit. 
I was nothing like the great and mighty. 
He disowned me, leaving me behind, 
While he stole the bell, believing I never deserved it. 
He lived happily off its wealth while cursing me every day. 
Well, as I said, my only imperfection is not making perfect humans— 
But nevertheless, I am God.

Comments

  1. This is exceptional masterpiece of work

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

FOREWORD

Adventures—what a fascinating word, isn’t it? It refuses to be confined by the boundaries of mankind. What was once a mere curiosity became mankind’s mission.From the barren lands of Sahara to the dense forests of Amazon, from the Pacific Ring of Fire to the chilling lands of Antarctic, from the unwandered lands to uncharted seas, We conquered it all. There remains, nothing adventurable except those of this Simple Man. What's so adventurous about this Simple Man? Well, everything! For I am not a typical adventurer, I am the chief editor of a generic English newspaper. You see I would not have became an adventurer to begin with, if my dear sister (whom I will now refer as demonly creature) had not suggested that I must do something about my handwriting, but how can I? I am a doctor by degree. That doesn't have anything to do with my adventure, I just like to show off. Anyways, skipping the reasons and questions, I present to you my perplexing and intriguing view, which may elud...

Chapter two: Tea bags

It is not very rare that I have a problem with someone or something, but you know what, sometimes it is not the problem that I have, sometimes it's just my pure genuine sense of hatred. Very few people have deeds so great to hold a feeling so genuine. Of course, how can I not mention our honorable electricity department for accomplishing something so genuine (hatred of course but still genuine). I would sing you tales of their tiresome deeds but of course, I don't have to do that troublesome task since every single man in this country holds a grudge against them for some or the other reason. Oh God!! I forgot I had a column to write but how can somebody do something in this house, I yawped. Just because the lights are down and you have work pending does not mean you can take the entire house on your head, cleared the horrifying eyes in the utter silence. Well, my belief that the darkness could make my sister less scary was not so right, I guess. If only it was not for my carefu...

Chapter Six: The Freedomic Halloween

I must have said that I work for a old generic english newspaper house. It is not a very popular job for writers like me but it pays decent. However this decent pay is a difficult achievement. It happens to be so because one has to drill water in the desert for it.  Oh! You might be thinking what this has to do with the adventures; Well during one such work for the newspaper column I had to gather data about freedom in old dusty archives of ours. A useless business as I might like to call it, unless, ofcourse, a adventurous story come across. Well as you may have guessed I did come across one - The Freedomic Halloween