A Conversation with God

X:: Are you there?
Y:: Yes I am.

X:: What does it feel like being there?
Y:: Even if I tell, you won't understand.

X:: Okay! So, tell me how's the weather there?
Y:: It's 350 degrees Heavenlious.

X:: What's Heavenlious?
Y:: Leave it, you won't understand.

X:: How many degrees of Celsius is your one degree of Heavenlious?
Y:: It's beyond your calculatuons, skip it.

X:: Why do you keep saying that I won't understand? I am 26, turning 27 next week, I have crossed two oceans, walked across three continents and visited seventeen countries; probably visiting another next year. I have had six girlfriends and two marriages and I have degrees in arts, science and medical. I am a doctor, and a psychologist, a teacher and a public speaker, I am young and receptive to every new idea. What makes you believe I won't understand you?
Y:: Ah! Let it be son. You seem too confused.

X:: No I am not. I have very definite goals in life, I am working for them and I see them getting accomplished.
Y:: In that case, I see, you're bewildered.

X:: Working on a straight path, doing what many can't do, and to have a reason to live, how do you call it bewilderedness?
Y:: Perplexed then.

X:: Oh my dear God! Do you not know how many people live in this world? And how many of them do know what are they living for? Not some but many are confused between pleasures and money, even more between austerity and divinity, and the rest alive but only sleeping. I out of them, know the reasons. I know it why.
Y:: Because you're a slave.

X:: I am a slave? No way! They are. They're the slaves of time. The slaves of money and poverty. Of greed and hunger. I, atleast, am above them all.
Y:: Then you're a wise slave.

X:: What are wise slaves?
Y:: To make you understand, I'd say those who would plan, work and then come to heaven.

X:: I do not dream of your heavens, for heaven means death and death means the end of this life. I am by all means very happy living this life.
Y:: That's because you're accustomed to being a slave.

X:: I am accustomed to living with my routines. And my routines are my alone. I am an entrepreneur and I am no slave. I have desires, that all humans have and I see to it, that I cross my deadlines and stikethrough my to-dos. I am organised on my own, and accustomed to my habits. Each day I wake up to win the day, and sleep with a sense of accomplishment. I work twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week. I am no slave, I am a leader.
Y:: If not a slave, then you're a monotonous robot.

X:: Wait a moment there. I had thought that talking to you would be so enlightening. I had considered that it would be a phase of ultimate learning and recollection, a moment that would stretch to eternity and bring the stars pouring down upon the two of us. I had thought of this moment to be gentle and soothing, but it only seems to be highly criticising.
Y:: Isn't that all true? Did anyone ever care to tell you that?

X:: No, no one ever told me that. And even as you speak I am only forced to take it. I might over here only agree as a submission to your prominance and entirely disagree to every other reason.
Y:: It is because you are non receptive to anything that comes your way. You live in a shell like a snail does, and pull back in whenever something touches you. You have other snails around you who are too busy sensing things around them and least bothered about you. But your shell is so far from the world that you mistaken it as an oyster, and think that you are a pearl delicately placed inside it.

X:: Umm.... Yes, I believe you are right. All these years I have been living in a shell. I have left my friends and family behind. I have cared to know little about my wife and kids. I guess it is all right, as you have said it. I don't understand. I am confused with my logics and wrong with my calculations. I am perhaps bewildered with my goals and perplexed with my deadlines. I am little of a leader and only more of a slave. You say it right, I am so habitual of all of it, that I have become a robot. A robot hiding in his shell, and surrendering to the walls of his own mastery. I am, yes you say it right, a snail pretending to be a pearl.
Y:: No, but I think YOU ARE PERFECT.