Chapter 90
I met Allah next.
I swear my father tried to make my religious experiences as similar to his. He had taken me to the Muslim part of town, just like he had wandered around that area of his town of Pondicherry so long ago. However, the man I met was in no hut, was not a baker, was not a mystic. He was the local mosque's mullah, their priest. I don't remember the conversations we had. I don't even remember what he looks like. Most of my experience with Islam is a blur. I never was much interested in it when I was younger.
Time doesn't change much as it passes.