Woh Kisna Hai!!

Jo hai albela madnaino wala

Jis ki diwani Brij ki har bala...

I was in the kitchen, whipping up some rice kheer for my daughter while belting out tunes like I was auditioning for a reality show. I thought I was alone, singing my lungs out, when suddenly, I felt a light poke on my shoulder. Yup, just a poke, but it sent chills down my spine—especially since the door was locked from the inside. 

My brain went into overdrive: “Is this it? Am I about to be robbed?!" As panic set in, I imagined the worst. What would be the headline? "Local Mom Robbed While Cooking!" I mean, come on, if I’m going to be in the news, at least let me have my lipstick on! Priorities, right?

But dampening all my wild momentary thoughts, I could hear a deep voice, singing in a melodious tune, "Woh Kisna Hai." A robber who can sing! My inbuilt autotune responded with a " Par mere pas kuch nahi hai" in a feeble voice.  

That voice again spoke out, " Why are you so scared? At least turn around. You human beings are too fast to give a reaction, without even trying to know. Grow girl, grow." No, I had to obey; at least, my fears had to. I turned and almost fainted at what I saw. No, no, it cannot be Him. Is it He? 

"Yes, it's me," said the intruder with a cheeky grin. Am I even supposed to say that? Or should I just stick with ‘the creator’? He waved a golden flute in the air - oh, so this was what He was poking me with all this while, which I mistook for a gun! " Yes, that's true," he again announced. 

"This is totally unfair! How can I even think if you know exactly what’s going on in my head?" complained the angry voice inside me. "I mean, where have you been all this time? I've been visiting every temple in town, shedding tears that could fill a kiddie pool, and praying like my life depends on it. Almost every second of the day at work, I’m trying to focus on spreadsheets while dreaming about you at night—it's like you’ve become my very own haunting ghost! And now, here you are, casually reading my mind like it’s an open book."

"Calm down, calm down," you said. "You prayed for me, and here I am, all for you... for the entire day. Now, tell me, what can I do for you?"

"You’re asking me what you can do for me?" I replied in disbelief.

"Yes, I am. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Like that? I've been dreaming, praying, aching, and torturing myself for this moment my entire life."

" And, what is it?" He asked again.

" Just be there with me, like a human being, this entire day, today. Will you? " 

He smiled and took my hand, " Your wish, my command." 

Oh yes, this is my moment! I quickly pulled my hand back and declared, "Get me some dry fruits, now!" To my amusement, he darted toward the refrigerator, rummaging through every nook and cranny as if he were on a wild treasure hunt. But alas, it was in vain. I couldn't help but chuckle as I secretly watched his epic struggle to find the jar of dry fruits.

After a while, he sheepishly returned to me, looking like he had just lost a battle. "Sorry, I couldn't find it."

"But you’re God! You know everything," I shot back, trying to keep a straight face.

"Ah, but remember, you asked me to be a normal human around you," he replied, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "So here I am, just a normal guy with his fair share of flaws and fears—like finding dry fruits!”

"Can you whip up this kheer like you do in your heavenly abode?" I asked him.  

"I could have, but then you went and asked me to be human! Now I’m just your average guy who wouldn’t know a spatula from a spoon. Let's just say my cooking skills peak at boiling water, and I treat home delivery like it's a five-star restaurant!"

Oh no, now he’s playing with me! Guess I need to bring out the big guns—time to show him who’s really the boss today. 

"Fine, then, go get my laptop and open my Pending folder...I am struggling with that much work with a deadline hanging around my shoulders. Can you at least finish that for me?" 

He smiled, gave a light nod, and grabbed the laptop. Now there was no escape—he was trapped! I smiled like a cat who had just spotted a mouse. As he fiddled with the laptop, digging through my folder, he asked, "Aren't you supposed to be writing a detective story?"

"Absolutely! But today, you’re the lucky contestant. Remember, my wish is your command!" 

He suddenly looked serious, like someone who had just seen a math problem too complicated to solve. Then, he began typing, and I felt a wave of joy wash over me. I had somehow convinced God to write a detective story for me! Who knew divine intervention came with a side of plots and twists? Now, if only I could get Him to do the dishes!

Just a couple of minutes later, he strutted over with the laptop, looking triumphant. "Done... see what I’ve come up with?" 

I peered at the screen and found just five words: "The detective caught the killer." 

I raised an eyebrow. "So, this is the title of the story? Was the plot twist too much for you to handle? Want to have a brainstorming session, or should we just stick to 'murder by deadline'?" I chuckled, genuinely curious about his thought process.

"No, no, you’ve got it all wrong! This is the whole story," he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air like he was trying to signal an aeroplane. "I promise, if I had more, I’d be giving a TED Talk instead of a casual chat!"

"Hold on a second! I’m supposed to be writing a story here. Do you get what I’m saying? It’s about how the detective caught the killer. Sure, I know the detective nabbed the bad guy, but the real story is all about the wild ride of how he did it!" I said, trying to keep my composure.

"Ah, I see," he said nonchalantly. "So the detective has all the juicy details. But since I’m not him, I am not aware of how he did it all" He chuckled as if he’d just cracked the case of the missing nachos.

"Oh my God, you're the writer here! You plan, you write, and you're basically the creator of this wild ride!" I tried to explain again. "But how can I be a creator today? Last I checked, you wanted me to be a regular guy, not some literary superhero! I left my cape at home! So this is how much I can do as a writer."

I nodded, realising he’d keep playing games with me. Time for a master plan! "Alright, Shakespeare, you can put down the quill for today. I’ve got a mountain of tasks to tackle. Why don’t you go finish dusting?" 

He agreed again without a second thought, and I was convinced he would nail the task. Just five minutes later, he swaggered back with the dusting brush, announcing, “I’m done!” You’d think he’d just defeated a dragon with the way he strutted.

“Wait, hold up! You dusted three rooms in five minutes? Are you a superhero now? Let me check before I send you off to save the world!”

As I stepped into each room, I was greeted by a delightful combination of dirt and cobwebs carpeting the floors, while the walls looked pristine, like they had just returned from a spa day. But wait! What was this? All the wall paintings and photographs were flipped upside down. “What have you done, a modern art installation? Why didn't you clean the dust off the floor after dusting? And did the picture get into a fight with gravity?” I couldn't help but burst out laughing in the midst of my irritation.

"You never mentioned I needed to clean the floor after dusting. I was just trying to create an aerial view experience! I thought about taking you flying around the room so you could enjoy a bird's-eye view of the pictures—because who doesn’t want a little in-house turbulence, right?" he said, pointing enthusiastically at the ceiling.

"So, now that you’ve come up with such a grand idea, how about taking me flying?" I said with a grin. He chuckled and shook his head. "How can I do that? I’m just an average Joe who can barely manage to lift my grocery bags, let alone fly you!"

"Right now, you mentioned thinking about taking me flying?" I asked genuinely. "Yes, I thought so. Don’t you ever think about flying?" His grin was starting to annoy me.

His games were getting out of hand—seriously, I was one eye-roll away from losing my cool. So, before he could launch into another round of "annoy the heck out of me," I had a brilliant idea. I could totally tackle all my work solo, but I desperately needed some good music to drown out the chaos. Who better to ask than him?

So I said, "Alright, you don’t need to do anything else. Just take out that flute and let me work in peace, okay?" He grinned like a kid in a candy store, grabbed that golden flute—the very same one he had poked me with earlier —and began to play. 

To my surprise, he actually started playing music instead of trying to turn my workspace into a circus. The divine sound of the flute made me swoon like I was in a cheesy romantic comedy, and before I knew it, I finished all my work long before it was due. Who knew all it took was a little magical flute music?

Calm and composed, I looked at him and said, "You have been playing games this whole time, but when I asked you to play the flute, why did you actually play it? I thought you would come up with some mischief instead."

He replied, "It's because this is my work. The task you assigned me earlier was yours. You focus on your work, and I will always be there with you. Sometimes, I’ll visit to play the flute, so that you can keep following its tune."