The Absence of God

Under the gloomy sky and through the turbid air reeking of cigarette smoke, screeching cats roam about the lanes of the city that never sleeps, contaminated with the people who never wake up. And one such night, there is no God. The icy, bizarre, unyielding downward trajectory of deafening silences makes everything look even more sinister than they are. Beggars sleep where people walk, drains overflow with rodents, all hell-bound just like everyone else there. Men aren’t chivalrous anymore. Yet they have names like Patrick, Jeremiah. But there is no God here. There is nothing here.

“Survival, as said by someone, is completely random. The only rhythm that exists is what we might see if we stare too long, or what we really want to see. Pointlessness makes us feel handicapped, and drives that urge to put patterns into randomness. It’s the only way out, the easiest way to feel complete, to say that something is ours (even if it’s in your mind). Our own solution to triumph in life.

We give temporary meaning to things that we don’t understand. But that’s only because we are in the process of attaining the meanings ourselves.

The prevalent faith in vague meta-physical forces re-establishes this. To extract an idea so specific, from the chaos of impossibility, its like transforming dust to diamonds. A wonderful miracle. Touching, empowering, frightening, yet redundant. It isn’t God who makes us fight wars. It isn’t God who kills people. Not God who causes desolation and loath. And it’s not luck that leads to innocent people getting killed mercilessly. Not destiny that makes them dog-food. Not fate that poisons these lanes.

Its just us. Going through life, filling the spaces in our understanding and blaming all that we have no control over. All those reasons for our misery for which we have no answer to.

And the void, strikes my heart, destroying my illusions, killing my imagination, leaving that space empty. Like a clean slate, to utilize at my will. And I decide not to fill it with anything. I choose something different. And my reasons for doing this?? Nothing. And that is exactly my point."

Saying all this, the man asks me “Does that finally answer your question..?”

I don’t give any reply.

He turns away trying to recollect the number of steps he took to reach the end of the lane.

I sigh. It’s going to rain again tonight.

The blind man however, doesn’t know this yet.