The epiphany

He seethed in anger - at wrongdoings, unfairness, power plays, character assassinations, selfishness and viles of the world. 

He didn't know why he felt so intensely. Sometimes, he wished he didn't. Maybe it was handed over to him through generations - the sense of morality and justice. Yeah, that was it. He had been taught to be nice, to be good, to do right. And as he grew up, the bubble burst. He thought since he was playing fair, everyone else will too. How silly of him. 

He sat in his office cubicle and wondered about how his conniving colleagues could even sleep at night, how his boss could selfishly choose a project that would show him in good light, how his ex-girlfriend could take his money and squander it on some other guy. All they care about is themselves and they get everything they want. He JUST didn't get it!

Does God never look at all of this? He had heard theories and stories of karma and justice. All nonsense, he screamed in his mind. Nothing ever happens to these $@#&#@$. Maybe even he should become like them - heartless and manipulative. Maybe even plan to have them killed or kidnapped and tortured. He obviously wouldn't do it himself but he had heard that there are many people who do this for a living. Even Lord Krishna had said that evil has to be destroyed. Actually Krishna had said that He will come back when evil floods the Earth. Considering He hasn't made it yet or probably has forgotten, someone has to do His work. 

Lost and tired, he opened the drawer stocked with 28 bars of Bounty and chomped on one. Bounty always made him feel better. He looked at his watch and realized it was time to go home. 

Home...home is where the heart is, or such was the belief. His heart wasn't in his home either. The constant fights between his wife and his mother drove him crazy. Sometimes, he wished he could do away with them too. Or simply, do away with himself. Wouldn't that be easier? If he wouldn't exist, nothing would bother him, right?

He complained of a headache to his wife and mother and lay down on his bed. He prayed to God to help him, find a way out of this mess. As he drifted into a dream, he heard his wife's sobs, his mother's complaints, his colleagues' cribbing, his boss' insecurity, his ex-girlfriend's fears. 

When we woke up, he found himself feeling strangely at peace. And there popped into his mind, Hercule Poirot's words:

"God doesn't need to punish us, Ms. Barton; We are too busy punishing ourselves."

God had answered his prayer.