They call me the Knight of Faith. They call me Abraham, but I’m actually a neoconservative modernist lamenting the loss of truth and values. I do what I must do because I must do it. Jehovah speaks to me and asks me to take Isaac to the mountains to help him stop smoking e-cigarettes and though I doubt if it’s schizophrenia setting in, I go with the flow. A part of me wants to drown the voices I hear with an antipsychotic. I can’t understand how taking Isaac to the mountains is going to help him. The hills are just as populated as the cities these days. I’m scared he’ll abandon everything I tried teaching him and actively rebel by smoking weed and by doing magic mushrooms. He already dreams in 3D because of those wretched video games I bought him. I should have never done that, but he never took to the Word. I even bought him a collection of T.S. Eliot and Robert Frost poems and said, “Here, at least read this, son.” I talked to him about measuring out his life in digital avatars and YouTube videos. I told him about how nothing gold stays, but his eyes remained fixed on the screen, and I wondered if he cut himself in secret or something. And so, I pulled his sleeve up, but he suddenly smashed the controller and said, “Look what you’ve done, you old Bastard! Now I’ll never catch that pink Pikachu!” I should have taken off my belt and given him an old school whopping, but I’m already in a messy situation with Sarah because I had an affair with Hagar. The last thing I needed was child services and social workers. So, I went to the room and wept. And then Jehovah spoke, saying, “Take him to the mountains and sacrifice his identity to nature. He’ll heal.” Jehovah already promised me descendants like the number of the stars in the sky or something. I listened, but I wondered what the hell he was rambling about. I already have an illegitimate son and must pay for Hagar’s visits to Egypt and her stays in expensive hotels. At least I don’t have to worry about Ishmael any longer. He went to the Middle East and had a spiritual conversion of another sort. He’s now settled with his two wives. He’s an oil Baron now and a respected member of society. So much for Jehovah’s prophecy of him being a donkey of a man. He told me CBT helped him immensely. He called me Batshit crazy and told me to get help before it’s too late. I disowned him, but he’ll always remain my precious, independent and responsible son. Anyhow, it was tough getting Isaac to come with me to the mountains. “What about my PlayStation Plus and Virtual Reality headset!” He screamed. “God will provide, my son,” I answered.
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2019)