If not smiles, then Almighty is in our tears. That's certainly how it looks like...from a distance! I may not be fond of religious activities today (much to my old ma's chagrin) but once upon an innocent time, I was a regular temple-visitor. Often accompanied by her, I used to be at my disciplined best once I entered the holy sanctum. No running around or screaming like an orangutan in a boat. I naturally assumed that it must be a sin to fart too. I used to chant the same pray-for-others-before-you-pray-for-yourself Tulu prayer my grandmother taught me. But neither those words nor those visits allowed me to befriend God. However, that particular miracle happened when I started showing up at the place-that-heals all alone. On my own. Since I didn't have an elder brother to 'protect' me from bullies (though I never thought I was supposed to mean the same to my younger brother) at school, I often confided in the dark Hindu idols. In the long run, my God was to become aware of all my dirty secrets which usually involved stealing money (from dad), stationery (from classmates), chalks (from teachers) and glances (from neighbours). Since I presumed He (yea, it was a colossal gender mistake but in my defense, I was barely eight) should know everything, I told him everything. There were days when I used to sit in front of him and cry inconsolably. He was my official shrink with superpowers. Though he never showed a sign of interest in me, I never gave up on Him. As the months passed by, I was growing tired of being. Finally, I delivered two options: either turn me into a grown-up or help me disappear at will. Stupid me. The Bastard conned me as I neither grew up nor became the invisible human who never was.