Monday, May 31, 2010

The Gods play scrabble

So how do the Gods chalk out millions of different life times, millions of different stories for each individual? Or is it just an old formula rehashed time and again with a few subplots thrown in for variety? That had been the standard procedure with the result that the Gods had plenty of free time and were consequently bored. Among the more conventional pastimes was Scrabble which an enterprising God had once learnt from a pearly white (their euphemism, coz the Gods where the whitest and there was no better white), while he was waiting for an admit.

Consequently a cruel streak in them, for Gods have to be cruel to be effective, which mortal would remember them otherwise, made them adopt this device for designing new lifetimes ,a collaborative process now (the Wise One was very keen on collaboration. He called it a buzz word since so many gods talking at once reminded one of angry bees) .The possibilities were immense thwarted only by vocabulary but the Gods were quick learners.
The first word had to signify the beginning, usually words like creation, inception or idea (for the metaphysically inclined) were used, but this one started with “Baby”, made by the practical motherly-looking-old-lady-god. The other Gods groaned at this because it severely limited their possibilities but an eager-fresh-faced-goddess made Beauty.

“So the fairy godmother has done her work again”, drawled a sarcastic no-nonsense-looking-God and he added wit and the Wise One added intelligence.
 This was met with protests since these stories tended to be much drabber than the others and the Gods liked their fun as much as anyone as and more than most. But the Wise One just smiled and said that the fates had willed it at which Fortune threw him a dirty look. This new system meant a lot of implementation work for her and she was feeling the strain.
“Ok time to start the story now”, said the Creative-God also the god of mayhem, thunderstorms and the likes.  “I am tired of the same old rigmarole, it curbs my creative instincts”. And he took the lonely Y which was free and made Y-E-T-I.
“But that’s not even a word! They don't exist “, snapped the starry-eyed eager-fresh- faced-goddess. “I was going to use it for a youthful flame”, she sighed.
“Yea like you ever have any ideas. Of course they exist, I personally supervised the look, and all this mystery only adds to their glamour”, snapped back the Creative-God.
The Wise One had to intervene. “We agreed that this would be a normal life”, he said acidly . I am done with the rock band groupie crap”, he added wincing , the memories of the last story were clearly still fresh.
So the Creative-God made yak and settled down with a smirk.

Fortune firmly put holiday and then school. She was glad to get her turn in as early as this. At least they steered clear of the gangs and the cults, which were quite a rage with the Creative-God right now. The Al-Qaeda was it? It seemed to be the theme of the season! No this would be a good life, she was firm, if they could just get by without Lucifer arriving.
Lucifer ambled in crooning, “So you think you can tell heaven from hell”. “Well you can”, snapped the Wise-One.
“Relax it’s a song”, said Lucifer grinning. “Chap called Pink Floyd”.
“It’s not a chap you moron”, said the Creative-God.
“How do they know”, said the old-motherly-one suspiciously. “If you ask me these bands are getting too smug for their own good. Why I heard something like a “stairway to heaven”, gave me a turn I must say. “How would he know how to work the switch?”
“It’s a metaphor nanny”, said Creative one indulgently. “You know a symbolic way of expressing”.
” I don’t hold with metaphors”, sniffed the nanny. “Stick to the plain facts. What if we started calling death, the end of all hope?”
She laughed wheezily at her own wit. Death and Hope were constantly in a state of strife and everyone knew who won in the end!
The story was unfolding before them. A small fresh faced girl, laughing on her way to school, a youthful teenager holidaying in Tibet (heh heh, laughed Lucifer. He was the only one who got the Creative-God’s jokes. They called it a satire).
The wise one made college and work since the Creative-God hand had been hovering close to the D and R . “Well then let’s make it love”, he said angrily “and heartbreak yes heartbreak”.
The sound of her sobs smote the heart of the eager-fresh-faced goddess, who promptly made marriage, and tried to explain to the elderly one that “a nice cup of tea “would not work both in the game and otherwise.
“Depression!” screamed Lucifer, in his element now, and the eager-fresh-faced goddess made a trip to Europe and old-lady-god made babies.
Creative-God however made I-P-A-D. “It’s a chance” he said to his bewildered audience. “But I will take it”.
This was met with deep suspicion.
“Whatever is this? The other day u were talking about some IPod and now this?” The IPod is the biggest revolution since the invention of the wheel”, said the Creative God.
“Bigger than Let there be light,  countered the Wise One his eyebrows raised.
“ Oh come of it”, snapped Lucifer. "The guy is pretty much a demi-god there”, he said, as Jesus blanched. “Just a figure of speech”, he added hastily.
"Well let’s not do grandchildren and all that!”, said the no-nonsense-God as her saw old-lady-god hands hovering dangerously towards "crib". I thought she would be doing something worthwhile?"
“Let’s make her write a book”, suggested Creative.
“Careful”, snapped Fortune. “The last one produced “The Secret”, having people believe they could bend me at will. You know I could never refuse a little attention and a girl is helpless in the face of devotion” (“Girl!” cackled Fresh face). “This one had me working overtime for weeks.”

“No not that one”, said Wise one quickly. More on the lines of HP since her life has been devoid of great love or tragedy to produce anything groundbreaking”.
“Oh that can be remedied”, said Lucifer quickly and death looked hopeful (Hope flinched).
“No”, said the Wise One, “It’s getting late. Let’s call it a day”. “Hee hee”, wheezed the old one who always got a pun late. “Now who fancies a game of chess?” said the Wise One. “I feel like there is a war coming on”……….