the randomness of life

by ashwinia

There is someone – a denizen of the skies, seated up there on a throne-like royal couch resting his massive hirsute legs on the soft fluffs of a cloud. Not God or some divine existence – Being an agnostic, I don’t spend hours mulling over let alone writing about the existence of God.
So going back to the clouds, on one huge greyish-white cloud, there is a golden throne, draped in red velvet, adorned in silver and gold satin – nothing short of what I imagine the legendary throne of Apollo to be. Our mammoth protagonist is comfortably seated devouring seedless green grapes, pausing only for sips of scotch. There’s a 24hrs catering service to satiate his palate when the grapes get boring. There’s the typical manservant seated in an ordinary yet golden chair a couple of fluffs below. There are small TV screens all around, needless to say, LED and HD supporting as well. This hulk like figure is glued to his new phone- an Android Ice-cream sandwich model which he ordered on Flipkart simply because the OS had a name that goes well with the fluffs of his abode. All day, he basks in all this comfort while flirt-texting a lady ogre he’s trying to hit on.
The screens in his abode relay random scenes from a blue, pretty-looking orb called Earth. Earth has many many many small insignificant creatures called humans who live a few years doing incomprehensible and strange things before disappearing into nothingness. The screens play scenes from the lives of these creatures like a TV soap, thus entertaining the manservant constantly, and the hulk too when Whatsapp is down or when the lady is busy with something/someone else. The manservant uses a remote control to switch to another scene from another mass of land on the Earth. The hulk is more powerful and influential. He casually flicks his fingers to alter the story of the scene. He can change anything. Everything.
One day they were watching a female human walking. She was dressed up. The Hulk realized dressing up was a lady thing, universally; it happens in the clouds and far away on Earth too. The she-human was not half as pretty as the Hulk’s special one, yet she looked so proud and haughty. He flicked his fingers, SNAP. The she-human tripped and fell flat faced into a puddle. The Hulk and his manservant burst into fits of laughter.
Another day, millions of miles away, on Earth, I woke up to a bright and pleasant Sunday morning. I was going to take my unresponsive iron box to the electronics shop; I hated having to wear clothes I disliked only because they were the only ones crisply ironed the way I liked it. I stepped out of the house. SNAP. The sun shone brighter than ever and it sent down heat waves that quite burnt my skin. I walked almost a mile hunting for the shop. The weather was so bad; I was almost drenched in sweat. I reached the shop. The guy behind the desk plugged the iron box in. SNAP. It worked perfectly like it hadn’t, in weeks. The manservant giggled so much seeing the bewilderment on my face that he snorted. I walked to the tailor’s shop. SNAP. It was closed. This seemed like so much fun to the manservant. Even the hulk was smiling; he needed something to keep his mind off the lady issues. I had woken up early on a Sunday for no good reason. I cursed the Gods under my breath; little did I know who was behind all of this. I came back home, frustrated. I decided to do some laundry, simply to cross somethingoff my to-do list. I filled water, soap. I dumped in the clothes. The machine roared for five seconds before it began to whirl and whirl. Five minutes passed.  SNAP. The power went off. I was so mad, I didn’t know who to punch; I was alone at home. The Android vibrated, the lady had texted. The ogre smiled like a toddler would at the sight of a new toy train. He asked the manservant to program the SNAPs to a randomize function. The manservant reluctantly obeyed. The ogre went back to his phone. The manservant simply watched as SNAPs happened in random scenes on random screens.
I binged on the tub of half-melted ice-cream I had saved for the day. I drew in my pretty red curtains; there was no sign of the sun outside. I cursed my way to deep sleep.