Overheard: A prayer to God

Aradhika  Sharma

Dear God,

You may have noticed that I’m not kneeling before you while praying but sitting on the couch. I apologise but my leg is in excruciating pain, and you, albeit in a way, are to blame. I’m sitting because my leg got mauled by one of the creatures that you created. Why can’t you be more responsible about the sort of beings that you unleash in my sector? (Try cute boys)

Anyway, here’s what happened. Mummy asked me to get some ice-cream for dessert and I happily set off to the Verka booth to buy a brick of Strawberry Crush.  Just as I handed the money to the Verka wali auntie, I felt a piercing pain ripping through me. Too terrified to react, I looked down to see that a mangy brown dog had snuck up and taken a huge bite of my calf.  A large portion of my flesh was still gripped firmly between his teeth. The hound from hell seemed determined to separate it from my leg. The mutt had literally appeared from nowhere. (Honestly, God, had he just come up to me and wagged his tail, I’d have bought him a packet of biscuits — tastier than the lean meat from my leg any day)

I let out a blood curdling screech of anguish. Lots of people gathered around, clucking in commiseration. Blood started pouring down my leg. Someone got me a chair. Finally, I was bundled into a car and deposited home to my mother. In all the commotion, the savage canine escaped but not before he had been identified as Billoo Badmash, the dog from the next sector. Billoo is a certified bully and a car chaser. For the first time in my life I experienced sheer hate. I wished death on Billoo!

At home, mummy cleaned up my wound and rushed me, weeping and wailing, to the hospital. Just when I thought that the pain couldn’t get more excruciating, the doctor poked a huge injection right into the wound. He said that I’d subsequently need more inoculations and advised that we should watch Billoo to see if it died. If it did, it would mean that it was rabid and that would be very serious for me.

This means that even though Billoo Badmash is my most hated dog, I still must pray for his good health. How in the world is that humanly possible when my leg feels as if hot knives were being turned in it and the wound is now looking red, inflamed and ugly? Goodness knows if I’ll ever be able to wear my dresses again. I suppose God that you have some divine plan of imparting lessons in forgiveness and non-hatred. Love thy enemies and all that.

Anyway, please grant Billoo good health and a long life. Just, please, let his bark be worse than his bite!

PS: Vaise, if this is your idea of a joke, it’s a very poor one. 

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