Direct and intimate, this writer keeps saying the unsayable in such a plain style with such humour and tenderness, you switch from shock to recognition, from laughter to sadness in an instant. It starts as a classic – and hilarious - story of immigration from India to America then takes a turn into dealing with terrible chance and grief. Painful, funny, and very perceptive, this is quietly brilliant.
I was on my strip of foam and I asked God whether he minded being prayed to only in need. ‘You think of your toe only when you stub it,’ he said.
‘Still, it’s better to pray just to pray.’
‘It’s human nature. I don’t mind it.’ God looked like Clark Kent. He was wearing a gray cardigan and slacks. He sat cross-legged at the foot of the mat.